Мгла
The Storage Area. Problems with the Generators. What Happened to the Bag-Boy.
TherewasnosoundexcepttheroarofthegeneratorandOllie,cryinginsidetheplywoodcompartment.Icouldseehimsittingonastoolintherewithhisfaceclutchedinhishands.
ThenIbecameawareofanothersound.Thesoft,slitherysoundIhadbeardinthedark.Onlynowthesoundwasmultipliedtenfold.Itwasthesoundoftentaclessquirmingovertheoutsideoftheloadingdoor,tryingtofindawayin.
Myrontookacoupleofstepstowardsme."Look,"hesaid."Yougottounderstand-"
Iloopedafistathisface.Hewastoosurprisedtoeventrytoblockit.Itlandedjustbelowhisnoseandmashedhisupperlipintohisteeth.Bloodflowedintohismouth.
"Yougothimkilled"Ishouted."Didyougetagoodlookatit?Didyougetagoodlookatwhatyoudid?"
Istartedtopummelhim,throwingwildrightsandlefts,notpunchingthewayIhadbeentaughtinmycollegeboxingclassesbutonlyhittingout.Hesteppedback,shakingsomeofthemoff,takingotherswithanumbnessthatseemedlikeakindofresignationorpenance.Thatmademeangrier.Ibloodiedhisnose.Iraisedamouseunderoneofhiseyesthatwasgoingtoblackjustbeautifully.Iclippedhimahardoneonthechin.Afterthatone,hiseyeswentcloudyandsemi-vacant.
"Look,"hekeptsaying,"look,look,"andthenIpunchedhimlowinthestomachandtheairwentoutofhimandhedidn’tsay"look,look"anymore.Idon’tknowhowlongIwouldhavegoneonpunchinghim,butsomeonegrabbedmyarms.Ijerkedfreeandturnedaround.IwashopingitwasJim.IwantedtopunchJimout,too.
