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- Стр. 449/529
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(
I
’
m
going
holy
mother
of
Jesus
I
’
m
going
off
)
And
that
was
where
the
car
stopped
,
canting
forward
at
a
thirty
-
degree
angle
,
the
left
fender
jammed
against
a
guardrail
,
the
rear
wheels
nearly
off
the
ground
.
When
Hallorann
tried
reverse
,
the
wheels
only
spun
helplessly
.
His
heart
was
doing
a
Gene
Krupa
drumroll
.
He
got
out
-
very
carefully
he
got
out
-
and
went
around
to
the
Buick
’
s
back
deck
.
He
was
standing
there
,
looking
at
the
back
wheels
helplessly
,
when
a
cheerful
voice
behind
him
said
:
"
Hello
there
.
fella
.
You
must
be
shit
right
out
of
your
mind
.
"
He
turned
around
and
saw
the
plow
forty
yards
further
down
the
road
,
obscured
in
the
blowing
snow
except
for
the
raftered
dark
brown
streak
of
its
exhaust
and
the
revolving
blue
lights
on
top
.
The
driver
was
standing
just
behind
him
,
dressed
in
a
long
sheepskin
coat
and
a
slicker
over
it
.
A
blue
-
and
-
white
pinstriped
engineer
’
s
cap
was
perched
on
his
head
,
and
Hallorann
could
hardly
believe
it
was
staying
on
in
the
teeth
of
the
wind
.
(
Glue
.
It
sure
-
God
must
be
glue
.
)
"
Hi
,
"
he
said
.
"
Can
you
pull
me
back
onto
the
road
?
"
"
Oh
,
I
guess
I
could
,
"
the
plow
driver
said
.
"
What
the
hell
you
doing
way
up
here
,
mister
?
Good
way
to
kill
your
ass
.
"
"
Urgent
business
.
"
