Мгла
The Coming of the Mist.
WewereinthelinethatwouldeventuallyleadustothecheckoutwhereBudBrownwasstanding.Therewerestillmaybethirtypeopleinfrontofus.TheeasiestonetopickoutwasMrs.Carmody,inherblazing-yellowpantsuit.Shelookedlikeanadvertisementforyellowfever.
Suddenlyashriekingnoisebeganinthedistance.Itquicklybuiltupinvolumeandresolveditselfintothecrazywarbleofapolicesiren.Ahornblaredattheintersectionandtherewasashriekofbrakesandburningrubber.Icouldn’tsee-theanglewasallwrong-butthesirenreacheditsloudestasitapproachedthemarketandthenbegantofadeasthepolicecarwentpast.Afewpeoplebrokeoutoflinetolook,butnotmany.Theyhadwaitedtoolongtochancelosingtheirplaces.
Nortonwent;hisstuffwastuckedintomycart.Afterafewmomentshecamebackandgotintolineagain."Localfuzz,"hesaid.
Thenthetownfirewhistlebegantowail,slowlycrankinguptoashriekofitsown,fallingoff,thenrisingagain.Billygrabbedmyhand-clutchedit."Whatisit,Daddy?"heasked,andthen,immediately:"IsMommyallright?"
"MustbeafireontheKansasRoad,"Nortonsaid.
Thosedamnedlivelinesfromthestorm.Thefiretruckswillgothroughinaminute."
Thatgavemydisquietsomethingtocrystallizeon.Therewerelivelinesdowninouryard.
BudBrownsaidsomethingtothecheckerhewassupervising;shehadbeencraningaroundtoseewhatwashappening.Sheflushedandbegantorunhercalculatoragain.
Ididn’twanttobeinthisline.
