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
‘I’m so sorry for those men,’Julia said. ‘Do their relatives know yet?’
‘Given your own situation, it’s very kind of you to think of that. They’ll be informed soon.The accident occurred at one o’clock this morning. Work has already begun on Little Boy Two. It should be ready in three days. Four at most.’
Barbie nodded. ‘Thank you, sir, but I’m not sure we have that long.’
A long thin wail of grief—a child’s wail—went up from behind them. As Barbie and Julia turned around, the wail turned into a series of harsh coughs and gasps for air. They saw Linda kneel beside her
elder daughter and fold the girl into her arms.
‘She can’t be dead!’ Janelle screamed. ‘Audrey can’t be dead!’
But she was.The Everetts’ golden retriever had died in the night,
quietly and without fuss, as the Little Js slept on either side of her.
11
When Carter came back into the main room, The Mill’s Second Selectman was eating cereal from a box with a cartoon parrot on the front. Carter recognized this mythical bird from many childhood breakfasts: Toucan Sam, the patron saint of Froot Loops.
Must be stale as hell, Carter thought, and had a fleeting moment of pity for the boss. Then he thought of the difference between seventy-some hours of air and eighty or a hundred and hardened his heart.
Big Jim scrummed more cereal from the box, then saw the Beretta in Carter’s hand.
‘Well,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry, boss.’
Big Jim opened his hand and let the Froot Loops cascade back into the box, but his hand was sticky and some of the brightly colored cereal-rings clung to his fingers and palms. Sweat gleamed on his forehead and trickled from his receding hairline.
‘Son, don’t do this.’
‘I have to, Mr Rennie. It’s not personal.’
Nor was it, Carter decided. Not even a little bit. They were trapped in here, that was all. And because it had happened as a result of Big Jim’s decisions, Big Jim would have to pay the price.
Big Jim set the box of Froot Loops on the floor. He did it with care, as if he were afraid the box might shatter if treated roughly. ‘Then what is it?’
‘It just comes down to… air.’
‘Air. I see.’
‘I could have come in here with the gun behind my back and just put a bullet in your head, but I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to give you time to get ready. Because you’ve been good to me.’
‘Then don’t make me suffer, son. If it’s not personal, you won’t make me suffer.’
‘If you keep still, you won’t. It’ll be quick. Like shooting a wounded deer in the woods.’
‘Can we talk about it?’
‘No, sir. My mind is made up.’
Big Jim nodded. ‘All right, then. Can I have a word of prayer, first? Would you allow me that?’
‘Yes, sir, you can pray if you want. But make it fast. This is hard on me too, you know.’
‘I believe it is. You’re a good boy, son.’
Carter, who hadn’t cried since he was fourteen, felt a prickle in the corners of his eyes. ‘Calling me son won’t help you.’
‘It does help me. And seeing you’re moved… that helps me, too.’
Big Jim shuffled his bulk off the couch and got on his knees. In the act of doing this, he knocked over the Froot Loops and uttered a sad little chuckle. ‘Wasn’t much of a last meal, I can tell you that.’
‘No, probably not. I’m sorry.’
Big Jim, his back now to Carter, sighed. ‘But I’ll be eating roast beef at the Lord’s table in a minute or two, so that’s all right.’ He raised a pudgy finger and pressed it high on the back of his neck. ‘Right here. The brain stem. All right?’
Carter swallowed what felt like a large dry ball of lint. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Do you want to get kneebound with me, son?’
Carter, who had gone prayerless even longer than he’d gone tearless, almost said yes. Then he remembered how sly the boss could be. He probably wasn’t being sly now, was probably beyond that, but Carter had seen the man at work and was taking no chances. He shook his head. ‘Say your prayer. And if you want to get all the way to amen, you really have to make it a short one.’
On his knees, back to Carter, Big Jim clasped his hands on the cushion of the sofa, which was still dimpled from the weight of his not inconsiderable fanny.’Dear God, this is Your servant, James Rennie. I guess I’m coming to you, like it or not. The cup has been raised to my lips, and I can’t—’
A large dry sob escaped him.
«Turn out the light, Carter. I don’t want to be crying in front of you. That’s not how a man should die.’
Carter extended the gun until it was almost touching the nape of Big Jim’s neck. ‘Okay, but that was your last request.’ Then he turned out the light.
He knew it was a mistake the instant he did it, but by then it was too late. He heard the boss move,
