Мгла
The First Night.
Ithinkthatnothingintheentirebusinessstandsinmymemorysostronglyasthatbird-thingblazingazigzaggingcourseabovetheaislesofthe’FederalSupermarket,droppingcharredandsmokingbitsofitselfhereandthere.Itfinallycrashedintothespaghettisauces,splatteringRaguandPrinceandPrimaSalsaeverywherelikegoutsofblood.Itwaslittlemorethanashandbone.Thesmellofitsburningwashighandsickening.Andunderlyingitlikeacounterpointwasthethinandacridstenchofthemist,eddyinginthroughthebrokenplaceintheglass.
Foramomenttherewasuttersilence.Wewereunitedintheblackwonderofthatbrightlyflamingdeathflight.Thensomeonehowled.Othersscreamed.AndfromsomewhereinthebackIcouldhearmysoncrying.
Ahandgrabbedme.ItwasBudBrown.Hiseyeswerebulgingfromtheirsockets.Hislipsweredrawnbackfromhisfalseteethinasnarl."Oneofthoseotherthings,"hesaid,andpointed.
Oneofthebugsbadcomeinthroughtheholeanditnowperchedonalawn-foodbag,houseflywingsbuzzing-youcouldhearthem;itsoundedlikeacheapdepartment-storeelectricfan-eyesbulgingfromtheirstalks.Itspinkandnoxiouslyplumpbodywasaspiratingrapidly.
Imovedtowardit.Mytorchwasgutteringbutnotyetout.ButMrs.Reppler,thethird-gradeteacher,beatmetoit.Shewasmaybefifty-five,maybesixty,rope-thin.Herbodyhadatough,dried-outlookthatalwaysmakesmethinkofbeefjerky.
ShehadacanofRaidineachhandlikesomecrazygunslingerinanexistentialcomedy.
