Кладбище домашних животных

60

           Thisisit.Whatcomeswhenyou’retooslowwishingawaythethingthatknocksonyourdoorinthemiddleofthenightissimpleenough:totaldarkness.

           Iwouldcommitsuicidenow,hethought,andIsupposeit’sinthecards,isn’tit?Ihavetheequipmentinmybag.Ithasmanagedeverything,manageditfromthefirst.Theburyingground,theWendigo,whateveritis.Itforcedourcatintotheroad,andperhapsitforcedGageintotheroadaswell,itbroughtRachelhome,butonlyinitsowngoodtime.SurelyI’mmeanttodothat...andIwantto.

           Butthingshavetobeputright,don’tthey?

           Yes.Theydid.

           TherewasGagetothinkabout.Gagewasstilloutthere.Somewhere.

           Hefollowedthefootprintsthroughthediningroomandthelivingroomandbackupthestairs.Theyweresmudgedtherebecausehehadwalkedoverthemonhiswaydownwithoutseeingthem.Theyledtothebedroom.Hewashere,Louisthoughtwonderingly,hewasrighthere,andthenhesawthathismedicalbagwasunsnapped.

           Thecontentsinside,whichhealwaysarrangedwithcarefulneatness,werenowinjumbleddisorder.ButitdidnottakeLouislongtoseethathisscalpelwasmissing,andheputhishandsoverhisfaceandsatthatwayforsometime,afaint,despairingnoisecomingfromhisthroat.

           Atlastheopenedthebagagainandbegantolookthroughit.

           Downstairsagain.

           Thesoundofthepantrydoorbeingopened

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