Кладбище домашних животных

55

           

           Thisnextbitislikethedeadfallyougottowalksteadyandeasy.Justfollowmeanddon’tlookdown.

           Yes,okay...andjustbythebye,haveyoueverseenplantsliketheseinMainebefore?InMaineoranywhereelse?WhatinChrist’snamearethey?

           Nevermind,Louis.Just...let’sgo.

           Hebegantowalkagain,lookingatthewet,marshyundergrowthjustlongenoughtosightthefirsttussockandthenonlylookingaheadofhimself,hisfeetmovingfromonegrassyhumptothenextfaithisacceptinggravityasapostulate,hethought;nothinghehadbeentoldinacollegetheologyorphilosophycourse,butsomethinghishighschoolphysicsinstructorhadoncetossedoffneartheendofaperiod...somethingLouishadneverforgotten.

           HeacceptedtheabilityoftheMicmacburyinggroundtoresurrectthedeadandwalkedintoLittleGodSwampwithhissoninhisarms,notlookingdownorback.Thesemarshybottomswerenoisiernowthantheyhadbeenatthetagendofautumn.Peeperssangconstantlyinthereeds,ashrillchoruswhichLouisfoundalienanduninviting.Anoccasionalfrogtwangedadeepelasticsomewhereinitsthroat.TwentypacesorsointoLittleGodSwamphewasbuzz-bombedbysomeshape...abat,perhaps.

           Thegroundmistbegantoswirlaroundhim,firstcoveringhisshoes,thenhisshins,finallyenclosinghiminaglowingwhitecapsule.

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