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- Нил Гейман
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- Американские боги
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"
She
’
s
nobody
’
s
wife
.
"
The
old
man
sat
in
silence
for
a
moment
,
looking
down
at
his
rough
hands
.
"
No
.
We
are
all
relatives
.
We
come
over
here
together
,
long
time
ago
.
"
From
the
pocket
of
his
bathrobe
,
Czernobog
produced
a
pack
of
unfiltered
cigarettes
.
Wednesday
pulled
out
a
narrow
gold
lighter
and
lit
the
old
man
’
s
cigarette
.
"
First
we
come
to
New
York
,
"
said
Czernobog
.
"
All
our
countrymen
go
to
New
York
.
Then
,
we
come
out
here
,
to
Chicago
.
Everything
got
very
bad
.
Even
in
the
old
country
,
they
had
nearly
forgotten
me
.
Here
,
I
am
just
a
bad
memory
.
You
know
what
I
did
when
I
got
to
Chicago
?
"
"
No
,
"
said
Shadow
.
"
I
get
a
job
in
the
meat
business
.
On
the
kill
floor
.
When
the
steer
comes
up
the
ramp
,
I
was
a
knocker
.
You
know
why
we
are
called
knockers
?
Is
because
we
take
the
sledgehammer
and
we
knock
the
cow
down
with
it
.
Bam
!
It
takes
strength
in
the
arms
.
Yes
?
Then
the
shackler
chains
the
beef
up
,
hauls
it
up
,
then
they
cut
the
throat
.
They
drain
the
blood
first
before
they
cut
the
head
off
.
We
were
the
strongest
,
the
knockers
.
"
He
pushed
up
the
sleeve
of
his
bathrobe
,
flexed
his
upper
arm
to
display
the
muscles
still
visible
under
the
old
skin
.
"
Is
not
just
strong
though
.
There
was
an
art
to
it
.
To
the
blow
.
Otherwise
the
cow
is
just
stunned
,
or
angry
.
Then
,
in
the
fifties
,
they
give
us
the
bolt
gun
.
You
put
it
to
the
forehead
,
bam
!
bam
!
Now
you
think
,
anybody
can
kill
.
Not
so
.
"
He
mimed
putting
a
metal
bolt
through
a
cow
’
s
head
.
"
It
still
takes
skill
.
"
He
smiled
at
the
memory
,
displaying
an
iron
-
colored
tooth
.
"
Don
’
t
tell
them
cow
-
killing
stories
.
"
Zorya
Utrennyaya
carried
in
their
coffee
on
a
red
wooden
tray
,
in
small
brightly
enameled
cups
.
She
gave
them
each
a
cup
,
then
sat
beside
Czernobog
.
"
Zorya
Vechernyaya
is
doing
shopping
,
"
she
said
.
"
She
will
be
soon
back
.
"
"
We
met
her
downstairs
,
"
said
Shadow
.
"
She
says
she
tells
fortunes
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
said
her
sister
.
"
In
the
twilight
,
that
is
the
time
for
lies
.
I
do
not
tell
good
lies
,
so
I
am
a
poor
fortune
-
teller
.
And
our
sister
,
Zorya
Polunochnaya
,
she
can
’
t
tell
no
lies
at
all
.
"
The
coffee
was
even
sweeter
and
stronger
than
Shadow
had
expected
.
Shadow
excused
himself
to
use
the
bathroom
-
a
closet
-
like
room
,
hung
with
several
brown
-
spotted
framed
photographs
of
men
and
women
in
stiff
Victorian
poses
.
It
was
early
afternoon
,
but
already
the
daylight
was
beginning
to
fade
.
He
heard
voices
raised
from
down
the
hall
.
He
washed
his
hands
in
icy
-
cold
water
with
a
sickly
-
smelling
sliver
of
pink
soap
.
