Мгла
The Spell of Mrs. Carmody. The Second Night in the Market. The Final Confrontation.
GaultpointedoutthatinthefortiesWeirdTaleshadonlybeenabletopayapittance,andthatinthefiftiesitwentbroke.Whenthemachinesfail,hehadsaid(whilehiswifecandledeggsandroosterscrowedquerulouslyoutside),whenthetechnologiesfail,whentheconventionalreligioussystemsfail,peoplehavegottohavesomething.Evenazombielurchingthroughthenightcanseemprettycheerfulcomparedtotheexistentialcomedy/horroroftheozonelayerdissolvingunderthecombinedassaultofamillionfluorocarbonspraycansofdeodorant.
Wehadbeentrappedherefortwenty-sixhoursandwehadn’tbeenabletododiddlyshit.Ouroneexpeditionoutsidehadresultedinfifty-sevenpercentlosses.Itwasn’tsosurprisingthatMrs.Carmodyhadturnedintoagrowthstock,maybe.
"Hasshereallygotadozenpeople?"Iasked.
"Well,onlyeight,"Cornellsaid."Butshenevershutsup!It’slikethoseten-hourspeechesCastrousedtomake.It’sagoddamfilibuster."
Eightpeople.Notthatmany,notevenenoughtofillupajurybox.ButIunderstoodtheworryontheirfaces.Itwasenoughtomakethemthesinglelargestpoliticalforceinthemarket,especiallynowthatDanandMikeweregone.Thethoughtthatthebiggestsinglegroupinourclosedsystemwaslisteningtoherrantonaboutthepitsofhellandthesevenvialsbeingopenedmademefeelprettydamnclaustrophobic.
"She’sstartedtalkingabouthumansacrificeagain,"Amandasaid."BudBrowncameoverandtoldhertostoptalkingthatdrivelinhisstore.
