Кладбище домашних животных

51

           Somethingwhiteprotrudedfromhismouthlikeanalbinotongue,andLouisthoughtatfirstthattheyhad,perhaps,usedtoomuchembalmingfluid.Itwastrickystuffatbest,andwithachilditwasnexttoimpossibletotellhowmuchwasenough...ortoomuch.

           Thenherealizeditwasonlycotton.Hereachedinandpluckeditoutoftheboy’smouth.Gage’slips,oddlylaxandseemingsomehowtoodarkandtoowide,closedwithafaintbutaudibleplip!Hethrewthecottonintothegravewhereitfloatedintheshallowpuddleandgleamedaloathsomewhite.NowoneofGage’scheekshadahollowold-man’slook.

           "Gage,"hewhispered,"goingtotakeyououtnow,okay?"

           Heprayednoonewouldcomealongnow,acaretakermakinga12:30swingthroughthecemetery,somethinglikethat.Butitwasnolongeramatterofnotbeingcaught;ifsomeoneelse’sflashlightbeamspearedhimashestoodhereinthegravegoingabouthisgrimwork,hewouldseizethebent,scarredspadeandputitthroughtheintruder’sskull.

           HeworkedhisarmsunderGage.Thebodylolledbonelesslyfromsidetoside,andasudden,awfulcertaintycameoverhim:whenheliftedGage,Gage’sbodywouldbreakapartandhewouldbeleftwiththepieces.Hewouldbeleftstandingwithhisfeetonthesidesofthegravelinerwiththepieces,screaming.Andthatwashowtheywouldfindhim.

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