Гроздья гнева
Chapter 16
Lookathesuna-flashin’onthemwindas."
Thetruckdrovetotheservice-stationbelt,andthereontheright-handsideoftheroadwasawreckingyard—anacrelotsurroundedbyahighbarbed-wirefence,acorrugatedironshedinfrontwithusedtirespiledupbythedoors,andprice-marked.Behindtheshedtherewasalittleshackbuiltofscrap,scraplumberandpiecesoftin.Thewindowswerewindshieldsbuiltintothewalls.Inthegrassylotthewreckslay,carswithtwisted,stove-innoses,woundedcarslyingontheirsideswiththewheelsgone.Enginesrustingonthegroundandagainsttheshed.Agreatpileofjunk;fendersandtrucksides,wheelsandaxles;overthewholelotaspiritofdecay,ofmoldandrust;twistediron,half-guttedengines,amassofderelicts.
Aldrovethetruckupontheoilygroundinfrontoftheshed.Tomgotoutandlookedintothedarkdoorway."Don’tseenobody,"hesaid,andhecalled,"Anybodyhere?"
"Jesus,Ihopetheygota’25Dodge."
Behindtheshedadoorbanged.Aspecterofamancamethroughthedarkshed.Thin,dirty,oilyskintightagainststringymuscles.Oneeyewasgone,andtheraw,uncoveredsocketsquirmedwitheyemuscleswhenhisgoodeyemoved.Hisjeansandshirtwerethickandshinywitholdgrease,andhishandscrackedandlinedandcut.Hisheavy,poutingunderliphungoutsullenly.
Tomasked,"Youtheboss?"
Theoneeyeglared."Iworkfortheboss,"hesaidsullenly.
"Whatchawant?"
"Gotawrecked’25Dodge?Weneedacon-rod."
"Idon’tknow.
