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- Нил Гейман
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The
tower
began
to
tumble
,
and
the
biggest
bird
,
its
eyes
the
blinding
blue
-
white
of
forked
lightning
,
plummeted
down
toward
him
in
a
rush
of
thunder
,
and
Shadow
was
falling
,
tumbling
down
the
tower
of
skulls
…
The
telephone
shrilled
.
Shadow
had
not
even
known
that
it
was
connected
.
Groggy
,
shaken
,
he
picked
it
up
.
"
What
the
fuck
,
"
shouted
Wednesday
,
angrier
than
Shadow
had
ever
heard
him
.
"
What
the
almighty
flying
fuck
do
you
think
you
are
playing
at
?
"
"
I
was
asleep
,
"
said
Shadow
into
the
receiver
,
stupidly
.
"
What
do
you
think
is
the
fucking
point
of
stashing
you
in
a
hiding
place
like
Lakeside
,
if
you
’
re
going
to
raise
such
a
ruckus
that
not
even
a
dead
man
could
miss
it
?
"
"
I
dreamed
of
thunderbirds
…
,
"
said
Shadow
.
"
And
a
tower
.
Skulls
…
"
It
seemed
to
him
very
important
to
recount
his
dream
.
"
I
know
what
you
were
dreaming
.
Everybody
damn
well
knows
what
you
were
dreaming
.
Christ
almighty
.
What
’
s
the
point
in
hiding
you
,
if
you
’
re
going
to
start
to
fucking
advertise
?
"
Shadow
said
nothing
.
There
was
a
pause
at
the
other
end
of
the
telephone
.
"
I
’
ll
be
there
in
the
morning
,
"
said
Wednesday
.
It
sounded
like
the
anger
had
died
down
.
"
We
’
re
going
to
San
Francisco
.
The
flowers
in
your
hair
are
optional
.
"
And
the
line
went
dead
.
Shadow
put
the
telephone
down
on
the
carpet
,
and
sat
up
,
stiffly
.
It
was
six
A
.
M
.
and
still
night
-
dark
outside
.
He
got
up
from
the
sofa
,
shivering
.
He
could
hear
the
wind
as
it
screamed
across
the
frozen
lake
.
And
he
could
hear
somebody
nearby
,
crying
,
only
the
thickness
of
a
wall
away
.
He
was
certain
it
was
Marguerite
Olsen
,
and
her
sobbing
was
insistent
and
low
and
heartbreaking
.
