Мгла
The Storage Area. Problems with the Generators. What Happened to the Bag-Boy.
"Youletthatladygobyherself-"
"Ididn’tnoticeyoubreakingyourasstoescorther,"Jim’sbuddyMyronsaid.Adull,brick-coloredflushwascreepingoutofhiscollar.
"-butyou’regoingtoletthiskidriskhislifeoverageneratorthatdoesn’tevenmatter?"
"Whydon’tyoujustshutthef*ckup!"Normyelled.
"Listen,MrDrayton,"Jimsaid,andsmiledatmecoldly."I’lltellyouwhat.Ifyou’vegotanythingelsetosay,Ithinkyoubettercountyourteethfirst,becauseI’mtiredoflisteningtoyourbullshit."
Ollielookedatme,plainlyfrightened.Ishrugged.Theywerecrazy,thatwasall.Theirsenseofproportionwastemporarilygone.Outtheretheyhadbeenconfusedandscared.Inherewasastraight-forwardmechanicalproblem:abalkygenerator.Itwaspossibletosolvethisproblem.Solvingtheproblemwouldhelpmakethemfeellessconfusedandhelpless.Thereforetheywouldsolveit.
JimandhisfriendMyrondecidedIknewwhenIwaslickedandwentbackintothegeneratorcompartment."Ready,Norm?"Jimasked.
Normnodded,thenrealizedtheycouldn’thearanod."Yeah,"hesaid.
"Norm,"Isaid."Don’tbeafool."
"It’samistake,"Ollieadded.
Helookedatus,andsuddenlyhisfacewasmuchyoungerthaneighteen.Itwasthefaceofaboy.HisAdam’sapplebobbedconvulsively,andIsawthathewasscaredgreen.
