Кладбище домашних животных

57

           

           "Church,"hesaid."Ithoughtsomeoneputyouout."

           Churchonlylookedathimfromatopthetoilettank.Yes,someonehadputChurchout;hehaddoneithimself.Herememberedthatveryclearly.Justasherememberedreplacingthewindowpanedown-cellarthattimeandthentellinghimselfthatthathadtakencareoftheproblem.Butexactlywhomhadhebeenkidding?WhenChurchwantedtogetin,Churchgotin.BecauseChurchwasdifferentnow.

           Itdidn’tmatter.Inthisdull,exhaustedaftermath,nothingseemedtomatter.Hefeltlikesomethinglessthanhumannow,oneofGeorgeRomero’sstupid,lurchingmovie-zombies,ormaybesomeonewhohadescapedfromT.S.Eliot’spoemaboutthehollowmen.Ishouldhavebeenapairofraggedclaws,scuttlingthroughLittleGodSwampanduptotheMicmacburyingground,hethoughtandutteredadrychuckle.

           "Headpiecefullofstraw,Church,"hesaidinhiscroakingvoice.Hewasunbuttoninghisshirtnow."That’sme.Youbetterbelieveit."

           Therewasanicebruisecomingonhisleftside,abouthalfwayuphisribcage,andwhenherolleduphispantsleghesawthatthekneehehadbangedonthegravestonewasswellinguplikeaballoon.Ithadalreadyturnedarottenpurple-black,andhesupposedthatassoonashestoppedflexingit,thejointwouldbecomestiffandpainfullyobdurateasifithadbeendippedincement.

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