Сияние

Up On the Roof

           

           Howlonghadhebeensittingthere,lookingatthatholewithitsunpleasantsurprisedowninside,rakingoveroldcoals?Helookedathiswatch.Almosthalfanhour.

           Helethimselfdowntotheedgeoftheroof,droppedonelegover,andfeltarounduntilhisfootfoundthetoprungoftheladderjustbelowtheoverhang.HewouldgodowntotheequipmentshedwherehehadstoredthebugbombonahighshelfoutofDanny’sreach.Hewouldgetit,comebackup,andthentheywouldbetheonessurprised.Youcouldbestung,butyoucouldalsostingback.Hebelievedthatsincerely.TwohoursfromnowthenestwouldbejustsomuchchewedpaperandDannycouldhaveitinhisroomifhewantedto-Jackhadhadoneinhisroomwhenhewasjustakid,ithadalwayssmelledfaintlyofwoodsmokeandgasoline.Hecouldhaveitrightbytheheadofhisbed.Itwouldn’thurthim.

           "I’mgettingbetter."

           Thesoundofhisownvoice,confidentinthesilentafternoon,reassuredhimeventhoughhehadn’tmeanttospeakaloud.Hewasgettingbetter.Itwaspossibletograduatefrompassivetoactive,totakethethingthathadoncedrivenyounearlytomadnessasaneutralprizeofnomorethanoccasionalacademicinterest.Andiftherewasaplacewherethethingcouldbedone,thiswassurelyit.

           Hewentdowntheladdertogetthebugbomb.Theywouldpay.Theywouldpayforstinginghim.

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