Гроздья гнева
Chapter 6
’Causewhat’dtheytakewhentheytractoredthefolksoffthelan’?What’dtheygetsotheir’marginaprofit’wassafe?TheygotPadyin’onthegroun’,an’Joeyellin’hisfirstbreath,an’mejerkin’likeabillygoatunderabushinthenight.What’dtheyget?Godknowsthelan’ain’tnogood.Nobodybeenabletomakeacropforyears.Butthemsons-a-bitchesattheirdesks,theyjus’choppedfolksintwofortheirmarginaprofit.Theyjus’cut’emintwo.Placewherefolksliveisthemfolks.Theyain’twhole,outlonelyontheroadinapiled-upcar.Theyain’talivenomore.Themsons-a-bitcheskilled’em."Andhewassilent,histhinlipsstillmoving,hischeststillpanting.Hesatandlookeddownathishandsinthefirelight."I—Iain’ttalkedtonobodyforalongtime,"heapologizedsoftly."Ibeensneakin’aroun’likeaol’graveyardghos’."
Casypushedthelongboardsintothefireandtheflameslickeduparoundthemandleapeduptowardthemeatagain.Thehousecrackedloudlyasthecoolernightaircontractedthewood.Casysaidquietly,"Igottaseethemfolksthat’sgoneoutontheroad.Igotafeelin’Igottoseethem.Theygonnaneedhelpnopreachin’cangive’em.Hopeofheavenwhentheirlivesain’tlived?HolySperitwhentheirownsperitisdowncastan’sad?Theygonnaneedhelp.Theygottolivebeforetheycanaffordtodie."
Joadcriednervously,"JesusChrist,le’seatthismeat’foreit’ssmaller’nacookedmouse!Lookather.Smellher."
