Мгла
The Expedition to the pharmacy.
AmaninamaroonT-shirtlayfacedowninthedoorway.OratfirstIthoughthisT-shirtwasmaroon;thenIsawafewwhitepatchesatthebottomandunderstoodthatonceithadbeenallwhite.Themaroonwasdriedblood.Andtherewassomethingelsewrongwithhim.Ipuzzleditoverinmymind.EvenwhenBuddyEagletonturnedaroundandwasnoisilysick,itdidn’tcomeimmediately.Iguesswhensomethingthat...thatfinalhappenstosomeone,yourmindrejectsitatfirst-unlessmaybeyou’reinawar.
Hisheadwasgone,that’swhatitwas.Hislegsweresplayedoutinsidethepharmacydoors,andhisheadshouldhavebeenhangingoverthelowstep.Buthisheadjustwasn’t.
JimGrondinhadhadenough.Heturnedaway,hishandsoverhismouth,hisbloodshoteyesgazingmadlyintomine.Thenhestumbled-staggeredbacktowardthemarket.
Theotherstooknonotice.Millerhadsteppedinside.MikeHatlenfollowed.Mrs.Repplerstationedherselfatonesideofthedoubledoorswithhertennisracket.OlliestoodontheothersidewithAmanda’sgundrawnandpointingatthepavement.
Hesaidquietly,"Iseemtoberunningoutofhope,David."
BuddyEagletonwasleaningweaklyagainstthepay-phonestalllikesomeonewhohasjustgottenbadnewsfromhome.Hisbroadshouldersshookwiththeforceofhissobs.
"Don’tcountusoutyet,"IsaidtoOllie.Isteppeduptothedoor.Ididn’twanttogoinside,butIhadpromisedmysonacomicbook.
TheBridgtonPharmacywasacrazyshambles.Paperbacksandmagazineswereeverywhere.
