-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Зеленая миля
-
- Стр. 107/304
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
That
's
the
way
it
was
,
too
.
The
man
we
took
back
to
his
cell
the
next
night
at
nine
was
quiet
,
pallid
,
and
seemingly
chastened
.
He
walked
with
his
head
down
,
made
no
effort
to
attack
anyone
when
the
straitjacket
came
off
,
and
only
stared
listlessly
at
me
when
I
told
him
it
would
go
just
the
same
the
next
time
,
and
he
just
had
to
ask
himself
how
much
time
he
wanted
to
spend
pissing
in
his
pants
and
eating
baby-food
a
spoonful
at
a
time
.
"
I
'll
be
good
,
boss
,
I
learnt
my
lesson
,
"
he
whispered
in
a
humble
little
voice
as
we
put
him
back
in
his
cell
.
Brutal
looked
at
me
and
winked
.
Late
the
next
day
,
William
Wharton
,
who
was
Billy
the
Kid
to
himself
and
never
that
bushwhacking
John
Law
Wild
Bill
Hickok
,
bought
a
moon-pie
from
Old
Toot-Toot
.
Wharton
had
been
expressly
forbidden
any
such
commerce
,
but
the
afternoon
crew
was
composed
of
floaters
,
as
I
think
I
have
said
,
and
the
deal
went
down
.
Toot
himself
undoubtedly
knew
better
,
but
to
him
the
snack-wagon
was
always
a
case
of
a
nickel
is
a
nickel
,
a
dime
is
a
dime
,
I
'd
sing
another
chorus
but
I
do
n't
have
the
time
.
That
night
,
when
Brutal
ran
his
check-round
,
Wharton
was
standing
at
the
door
of
his
cell
.
He
waited
until
Brutal
looked
up
at
him
,
then
slammed
the
heels
of
his
hands
into
his
bulging
cheeks
and
shot
a
thick
and
amazingly
long
stream
of
chocolate
sludge
into
Brutal
's
face
.
He
had
crammed
the
entire
moon-pie
into
his
trap
,
held
it
there
until
it
liquefied
,
and
then
used
it
like
chewing
tobacco
.
Wharton
fell
back
on
his
bunk
wearing
a
chocolate
goatee
,
kicking
his
legs
and
screaming
with
laughter
and
pointing
to
Brutal
,
who
was
wearing
a
lot
more
than
a
goatee
.
"
Li
'
l
Black
Sambo
,
yassuh
,
boss
,
yassuh
,
howdoo
you
do
?
"
Wharton
held
his
belly
and
howled
.
"
Gosh
,
if
it
had
only
been
ka-ka
!
I
wish
it
had
been
!
If
I
'd
had
me
some
of
that
--
"
"
You
are
ka-ka
,
"
Brutal
growled
,
"
and
I
hope
you
got
your
bags
packed
,
because
you
're
going
back
down
to
your
favorite
toilet
.
"
Once
again
Wharton
was
bundled
into
the
strait
jacket
,
and
once
again
we
stowed
him
in
the
room
with
the
soft
walls
Two
days
,
this
time
.
Sometimes
we
could
hear
him
raving
in
there
,
sometimes
we
could
hear
him
promising
that
he
'd
be
good
,
that
he
'd
come
to
his
senses
and
be
good
,
and
sometimes
we
could
hear
him
screaming
that
he
needed
a
doctor
,
that
he
was
dying
.
Mostly
,
though
,
he
was
silent
.
And
he
was
silent
when
we
took
him
out
again
,
too
,
walking
,
back
to
his
cell
with
his
head
down
and
his
eyes
dull
,
not
responding
when
Harry
said
,
"
Remember
,
it
's
up
to
you
.
"
He
would
be
all
right
for
a
while
,
and
then
he
'd
try
something
else
.
There
was
nothing
he
did
that
had
n't
been
tried
before
(
well
,
except
for
the
thing
with
the
moon-pie
,
maybe
;
even
Brutal
admitted
that
was
pretty
original
)
,
but
his
sheer
persistence
was
scary
.
I
was
afraid
that
sooner
or
later
someone
's
attention
might
lapse
and
there
would
be
hell
to
pay
.
And
the
situation
might
continue
for
quite
awhile
,
because
somewhere
he
had
a
lawyer
who
was
beating
the
bushes
,
telling
folks
how
wrong
it
would
be
to
kill
this
fellow
upon
whose
brow
the
dew
of
youth
had
not
yet
dried
...
and
who
was
,
incidentally
,
as
white
as
old
Jeff
Davis
.
There
was
no
sense
complaining
about
it
,
because
keeping
Wharton
out
of
the
chair
was
his
lawyer
's
job
.
Keeping
him
safely
jugged
was
ours
.
And
in
the
end
,
Old
Sparky
would
almost
certainly
have
him
,
lawyer
or
no
lawyer
.
That
was
the
week
Melinda
Moores
,
the
warden
's
wife
,
came
home
from
Indianola
.
The
doctors
were
done
with
her
;
they
had
their
interesting
,
newfangled
X-ray
photographs
of
the
tumor
in
her
head
;
they
had
documented
the
weakness
in
her
hand
and
the
paralyzing
pains
that
racked
her
almost
constantly
by
then
,
and
were
done
with
her
.
They
gave
her
husband
a
bunch
of
pills
with
morphine
in
them
and
sent
Melinda
home
to
die
.
Hal
Moores
had
some
sick-leave
piled
up
--
not
a
lot
,
they
did
n't
give
you
a
lot
in
those
days
,
but
he
took
what
he
had
so
he
could
help
her
do
what
she
had
to
do
.
My
wife
and
I
went
to
see
her
three
days
or
so
after
she
came
home
.
I
called
ahead
and
Hal
said
yes
,
that
would
be
fine
,
Melinda
was
having
a
pretty
good
day
and
would
enjoy
seeing
us
.
