On an entirely normal, beautiful fall day in Chester’s Mill, Maine, the town is inexplicably and suddenly sealed off from the rest of the world by an invisible force field.
Авторы: King Stephen Edwin
that milk box. Rusty told me.’
Thurston had opened the door, but now he paused. ‘I can’t do that. What if somebody else needs them?’
She wasn’t going to argue; she’d probably wind up screaming at him and scaring the children.
‘Whatever. Just hurry up. This is like a box canyon.’
‘As fast as I can.’
Yet it seemed to take him forever to snip pieces of the lead roll, and she had to restrain herself from leaning out the window and asking if he had been born a prissy old lady or just grew into one.
Keep it shut. He lost someone he loved last night.
Yes, and if they didn’t hurry, she might lose everything. There were already people on Main Street, heading out toward 119 and the Dinsmore dairy farm, intent on getting the best places. Linda jumped every time a police loudspeaker blared,’CARS ARE NOT ALLOWED ON THE HIGHWAY! UNLESS YOU ARE PHYSICALLY DISABLED, YOU MUST WALK.’
Thibodeau was smart, and he had sniffed something. What if he came back and saw that her van was gone? Would he look for it? Meanwhile, Thurse just kept snipping pieces of lead from the roofing roll. He turned and she thought he was done, but he was only visually measuring the windshield. He started cutting again.
Whacking off another piece. Maybe he was actually trying to drive her mad. A silly idea, but once it had entered her mind it wouldn’t leave.
She could still feel Thibodeau rubbing against her bottom. The tickle of his stubble. The fingers squeezing her breast. She told herself not to look at what he’d left on the seat of her jeans when she took them off, but she couldn’t help it. The word that rose in her mind was mansplat, and she’d found herself in a short, grim struggle to keep her breakfast down. Which also would have pleased him, if he had known.
Sweat sprang out on her brow.
‘Mom?’ Judy, right in her ear. Linda jumped and uttered a cry. Tm sorry, 1 didn’t mean to jump you. Can I have something to eat?’
‘Not now.’
‘Why does that man keep loudspeakering?’
‘Honey, I can’t talk to you right now.’
‘Are you bummin?’
‘Yes. A little. Now sit back.’
‘Are we going to see Daddy?’
‘Yes.’ Unless we get caught and I get raped in front of you. ‘Now sit back.’
Thurse was finally coming. Thank God for small favors. He appeared to be carrying enough cut squares and rectangles of lead to armor a tank. ‘See? That wasn’t so ba- oh, shit.’
The kids giggled, the sound like rough files sawing away at Linda’s brain. ‘Quarter in the swear-jar, Mr Marshall,’Janelle said.
Thurse was looking down, bemused. He had stuck the metal-snips in his belt.
‘I’ll just put these back under the milk box—’
Linda snatched them before he could finish, restrained a momentary urge to bury them up to the handles in his narrow chest—admirable restraint, she thought—and got out to put them away herself.
As she did, a vehicle slid in behind the van, blocking access to West Street, the only way out of this cul-de-sac.
Atop Town Common Hill, just below the Y-intersection where Highland Avenue split off from Main Street, Jim Rennie’s Hummer sat idling. From below came the amplified exhortations for people to leave their cars and walk unless they were disabled. People were flowing down the sidewalks, many with packs on their backs. Big jim eyed them with that species of longsuffering contempt which is felt only by caretakers who do their jobs not out of love but out of duty.
Going against the tide was Carter Thibodeau. He was striding in the middle of the street, every now and then shoving someone out of his way. He reached the Hummer, got in on the passenger side, and armed sweat from his forehead. ‘Man, that AC feels good. Not hardly eight in the morning and it’s got to be seventy-five degrees out there already. And the air smells like a frickin ashtray. ‘Scuse the language, boss.’
‘What kind of luck did you have?’
‘The bad kind. I talked to Officer Everett. Ex-Officer Everett. The others are in the breeze.’
‘Does she know anything?’
‘No. She hasn’t heard from the doc. And Wettington treated her like a mushroom, kept her in the dark and fed her shit.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Her kids there with her?’
‘Yup. The hippy, too. The one who straightened out your ticker. Plus the two kids Junior and Frankie found out at the Pond.’ Carter thought about this. ‘With his chick dead and her husband gone, him and Everett’ll probably be boinking each other’s brains out by the end of the week. If you want me to take another run at her, boss, I will.’
Big Jim flicked a single finger up from the steering wheel to show that wouldn’t be necessary. His attention was elsewhere. ‘Look at
