Кладбище домашних животных

49

           digholes?Thatsimple?Isitlunacy?Ispenteightyearsbecomingadoctor,butI’vebecomeagraverobberinonesimplestepwhatIsupposepeoplewouldcallaghoul.

           Hecrammedhisfistsagainsthismouthtostopsomesoundfromcomingoutandfeltforthatinteriorcoldness,thatsenseofdisconnection.Itwasthere,andLouisdrewitgratefullyaroundhim.

           Whenthecouplefinallywalkedon,Louiswatchedthemwithnothingbutimpatience.Theyclimbedthestepsofoneoftheapartmentbuildings.Themanfeltforakey,andamomentlatertheywereinside.Thestreetwassilentagainexceptfortheconstantbeatofthewind,rustlingthetreesandtumblinghissweatyhairoverhisforehead.

           Louisrandowntothefence,bentlow,andfeltthroughthebrushforhiscanvasbundle.Hereitwas,roughunderhisfingers.Hepickeditup,listeningtothemuffledclankfrominside.Hecarrieditovertothebroadgraveleddrivethatledinthroughthegatesandpausedtoorienthimself.Straightuphere,goleftatthefork.Noproblem.

           Hewalkedalongtheedgeofthedrive,wantingtobeabletogofartherintotheshadowoftheelmsiftheredidhappentobeafull-timecaretakerandifhehappenedtobeout.

           Heboreleftatthefork,approachingGage’sgravenow,andsuddenly,appallingly,realizedhecouldnotrememberwhathissonhadlookedlike.Hepaused,staringoffintotherowsofgraves,thefrowningfacadesofthemonuments,andtriedtosummonhimup.

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