Кладбище домашних животных

51

           Hegrabbedit,cuppedahandoveritsfeltedlens,andpushedthelittlerubbernipplethathidtheswitch.Hispalmlitupbriefly,andheswitchedtheflashlightoff.Itwasokay.

           Heusedhispocketknifetocutthepickfreefromthecanvasrollandtookthetoolsthroughthegrasstothetrees.Hestoodbehindthebiggest,lookingbothwaysalongMasonStreet.Itwasutterlydesertednow.Hesawonlyonelightontheentirestreetasquareofyellow-goldinanupstairsroom.Aninsomniac,perhaps,oraninvalid.

           Movingquicklybutnotrunning,Louissteppedoutontothesidewalk.Afterthedimnessofthecemetery,hefelthorriblyexposedunderthestreetlights;herehestood,onlyyardsawayfromBangor’ssecond-largestboneyard,apick,shovel,andflashlightcradledinhisarms.Ifsomeonesawhimnow,theinferencewouldbetoocleartomiss.

           Hecrossedthestreetrapidly,heelsclicking.TherewashisCivic,onlyfiftyyardsdownthestreet.ToLouis,itlookedlikefivemiles.Sweating,hewalkedtowardit,alertforthesoundofanapproachingcarengine,footfallsotherthanhisown,perhapstheraspofawindowgoingup.

           HegottohisHonda,leanedthepickandshovelagainsttheside,andfumbledforhiskeys.Theyweren’tthere,notineitherpocket.Freshsweatbegantobreakonhisface.Hisheartbegantorunagain,andhisteethwereclenchedtogetheragainstthepanicthatwantedtoleapfree.

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