Кладбище домашних животных

61

           HeremovedthreemoremultidosevialsandfilledeachofthesyringeswithenoughmorphinetokillahorseorHanrattythebull,ifitcametothat.Heputtheminhispocketagain.

           Heleftthekitchen,crossedthelivingroom,andstoodatthebaseofthestairs.

           "Gage?"

           FromsomewhereintheshadowsabovetherecameagigglingacoldandsunlesslaughterthatmadetheskinonLouis’sbackprickle.

           Hestartedup.

           Itwasalongwalktothetopofthosestairs.Hecouldwellimagineacondemnedmantakingawalkalmostaslong(andashorriblyshort)totheplatformofascaffoldwithhishandstiedbehindhisback,knowingthathewouldpisswhenhecouldnolongerwhistle.

           Hereachedthetopatlast,onehandinhispocket,staringonlyatthewall.Howlongdidhestandthatway?Hedidnotknow.Hecouldnowfeelhissanitybeginningtogiveway.Thiswasanactualsensation,atruething.Itwasinteresting.Heimaginedatreeoverloadedwithiceinaterriblestormwouldfeelthiswayiftreescouldfeelanythingshortlybeforetoppling.Itwasinteresting...anditwassortofamusing.

           "Gage,wanttogotoFloridawithme?"

           Thatgiggleagain.

           Louisturnedandwasgreetedbythesightofhiswife,towhomhehadoncecarriedaroseinhisteeth,lyinghalfwaydownthehall,dead.HerlegsweresplayedoutasJud’shadbeen.

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