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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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- Стр. 172/641
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When
,
thirty
minutes
later
,
he
heard
the
noise
of
distant
helicopters
coming
from
the
west
,
he
struck
out
away
from
the
timber
trail
and
into
the
woods
.
There
were
two
helicopters
,
and
he
lay
,
crouched
in
a
hollow
beneath
a
fallen
tree
,
and
listened
to
them
pass
over
.
As
they
moved
away
,
he
looked
out
and
looked
up
,
for
one
hasty
glance
at
the
gray
winter
sky
.
He
was
satisfied
to
observe
that
the
helicopters
were
painted
a
matte
black
.
He
waited
beneath
the
tree
until
the
noise
of
the
helicopters
was
completely
gone
.
Under
the
trees
the
snow
was
little
more
than
a
dusting
,
which
crunched
underfoot
.
He
was
deeply
grateful
for
the
chemical
hand
-
and
feetwarmers
,
which
kept
his
extremities
from
freezing
.
Beyond
that
,
he
was
numb
:
heart
-
numb
,
mind
-
numb
,
soul
-
numb
.
And
the
numbness
,
he
realized
,
went
a
long
way
down
,
and
a
long
way
back
.
So
what
do
I
want
?
he
asked
himself
.
He
couldn
’
t
answer
,
so
he
just
kept
on
walking
,
a
step
at
a
time
,
on
and
on
through
the
woods
.
Trees
looked
familiar
,
moments
of
landscape
were
perfectly
déjà
-
vued
.
Could
he
be
walking
in
circles
?
Maybe
he
would
just
walk
and
walk
and
walk
until
the
warmers
and
the
candy
bars
ran
out
and
then
sit
down
and
never
get
up
again
.
He
reached
a
large
stream
,
of
the
kind
the
locals
called
a
creek
and
pronounced
crick
,
and
decided
to
follow
it
.
Streams
led
to
rivers
,
rivers
all
led
to
the
Mississippi
,
and
if
he
kept
walking
,
or
stole
a
boat
or
built
a
raft
,
eventually
he
’
d
get
to
New
Orleans
,
where
it
was
warm
,
an
idea
which
seemed
both
comforting
and
unlikely
.
There
were
no
more
helicopters
.
He
had
the
feeling
that
the
ones
that
had
passed
overhead
had
been
cleaning
up
the
mess
at
the
freight
train
siding
,
not
hunting
for
him
,
otherwise
they
would
have
returned
;
there
would
have
been
tracker
dogs
and
sirens
and
the
whole
paraphernalia
of
pursuit
.
Instead
,
there
was
nothing
.
What
did
he
want
?
Not
to
get
caught
.
Not
to
get
blamed
for
the
deaths
of
the
men
on
the
train
.
"
It
wasn
’
t
me
,
"
he
heard
himself
saying
,
"
it
was
my
dead
wife
.
"
He
could
imagine
the
expressions
on
the
faces
of
the
law
officers
.
Then
people
could
argue
about
whether
he
was
crazy
or
not
while
he
went
to
the
chair
…
He
wondered
whether
Wisconsin
had
the
death
penalty
.
He
wondered
whether
that
would
matter
.
He
wanted
to
understand
what
was
going
on
—
and
to
find
out
how
it
was
all
going
to
end
.
And
finally
,
producing
a
half
-
rueful
grin
,
he
realized
that
most
of
all
he
wanted
everything
to
be
normal
.
He
wanted
never
to
have
gone
to
prison
,
for
Laura
to
still
be
alive
,
for
none
of
this
ever
to
have
happened
.
"
I
’
m
afraid
that
’
s
not
exactly
an
option
,
m
’
boy
,
"
he
thought
to
himself
,
in
Wednesday
’
s
gruff
voice
,
and
he
nodded
agreement
.
Not
an
option
.
You
burned
your
bridges
.
So
keep
walking
.
Do
your
own
time
…
