Зеленая миля

Chapter 8

           

           JohnCoffeywentonkissingherinthatdeepandintimateway,inhalingandinhaling,onehandstillheldout,theotheronthebed,proppinguphisimmenseweight.Thefingersweresplayed;thehandlookedtomelikeabrownstarfish.

           Suddenly,herbackarched.Oneofherownhandsflailedoutintheair,thefingersclenchingandunclenchinginaseriesofspasms.Herfeetdrummedagainstthebed.Thensomethingscreamed.Again,that’snotjustme;theothermenheardit,aswell.ToBrutalitsoundedlikeawolforcoyotewithitslegcaughtinatrap.Tomeitsoundedlikeaneagle,thewayyou’dsometimeshearthemonstillmorningsbackthen,cruisingdownthroughthemistycutswiththeirwingsstifflyspread.

           Outside,thewindgustedhardenoughtogivethehouseasecondshakeandthatwasstrange,youknow,becauseuntilthentherehadbeennowindtospeakofatall.

           JohnCoffeypulledawayfromher,andIsawthatherfacehadsmoothedout.Therightsideofhermouthnolongerdrooped.Hereyeshadregainedtheirnormalshape,andshelookedtenyearsyounger.Heregardedherraptlyforamomentortwo,andthenhebegantocough.Heturnedhisheadsoasnottocoughinherface,losthisbalance(whichwasn’thard;bigashewas,he’dbeensittingwithhisbutthalfwayoffthesideofthebedtostartwith),andwentdownontothefloor.Therewasenoughofhimtogivethehouseathirdshake.

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