-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Зеленая миля
-
- Стр. 17/304
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Oh
,
now
,
a
little
lunch
,
is
that
right
?
"
McGee
asked
,
and
Coffey
nodded
and
said
yessir
with
his
eyes
running
and
dear
snot-runners
hanging
out
of
his
nose
.
"
And
where
did
the
likes
of
you
get
a
little
lunch
,
John
Coffey
?
"
Forcing
himself
to
be
calm
,
although
he
could
smell
the
girls
by
then
,
and
could
see
the
flies
lighting
and
sampling
the
places
on
them
that
were
wet
.
It
was
their
hair
that
was
the
worst
,
he
said
later
...
and
this
was
n't
in
any
newspaper
story
;
it
was
considered
too
grisly
for
family
reading
.
No
,
this
I
got
from
the
reporter
who
wrote
the
story
,
Mr.
Hammersmith
.
I
looked
him
up
later
on
,
because
later
on
John
Coffey
became
sort
of
an
obsession
with
me
.
McGee
told
this
Hammersmith
that
their
blonde
hair
was
n't
blonde
anymore
.
It
was
auburn
.
Blood
had
run
down
their
cheeks
out
of
it
like
it
was
a
bad
dye-job
,
and
you
did
n't
have
to
be
a
doctor
to
see
that
their
fragile
skulls
had
been
dashed
together
with
the
force
of
those
mighty
arms
.
Probably
they
had
been
crying
.
Probably
he
had
wanted
to
make
them
stop
.
If
the
girls
had
been
lucky
,
this
had
happened
before
the
rapes
.
Looking
at
that
made
it
hard
for
a
man
to
think
,
even
a
man
as
determined
to
do
his
job
as
Deputy
McGee
was
.
Bad
thinking
could
cause
mistakes
,
maybe
more
bloodshed
.
McGee
drew
him
in
a
deep
breath
and
calmed
himself
.
Tried
,
anyway
.
"
Wellsir
,
I
do
n't
exactly
remember
,
be
dog
if
I
do
,
"
Coffey
said
in
his
tear-choked
voice
,
"
but
it
's
a
little
lunch
,
all
right
,
sammidges
and
I
think
a
swee
"
pickle
.
"
I
might
just
have
a
look
for
myself
,
it
's
all
the
same
to
you
,
"
McGee
said
.
"
Do
n't
you
move
now
,
John
Coffey
.
Do
n't
do
it
,
boy
,
because
there
are
enough
guns
aimed
at
you
to
make
you
disappear
from
the
waist
up
should
you
so
much
as
twitch
a
finger
.
"
Coffey
looked
out
across
the
river
and
did
n't
move
as
McGee
gently
reached
into
the
chest
pocket
of
those
biballs
and
pulled
out
something
wrapped
in
newspaper
and
tied
with
a
hank
of
butcher
's
twine
.
McGee
snapped
the
string
and
opened
the
paper
,
although
he
was
pretty
sure
it
was
just
what
Coffey
said
it
was
,
a
little
lunch
.
There
was
a
bacon-tomato
sandwich
and
a
jelly
fold-over
.
There
was
also
a
pickle
,
wrapped
in
its
own
piece
of
a
funny
page
John
Coffey
would
never
be
able
to
puzzle
out
.
There
were
no
sausages
.
Bowser
had
gotten
the
sausages
out
of
John
Coffey
's
little
lunch
.
McGee
handed
the
lunch
back
over
his
shoulder
to
one
of
the
other
men
without
taking
his
eyes
off
Coffey
.
Hunkered
down
like
that
,
he
was
too
close
to
want
to
let
his
attention
stray
for
even
a
second
.
The
lunch
,
wrapped
up
again
and
tied
for
good
measure
,
finally
ended
up
with
Bobo
Marchant
,
who
put
it
in
his
knapsack
,
where
he
kept
treats
for
his
dogs
(
and
a
few
fishing
lures
,
I
should
n't
wonder
)
.
It
was
n't
introduced
into
evidence
at
the
trial
--
justice
in
this
part
of
the
world
is
swift
,
but
not
as
swift
as
a
bacon-tomato
sandwich
goes
over
--
though
photographs
of
it
were
.
"
What
happened
here
,
John
Coffey
?
"
McGee
asked
in
his
low
,
earnest
voice
.
"
You
want
to
tell
me
that
?
"
And
Coffey
said
to
McGee
and
the
others
almost
exactly
the
same
thing
he
said
to
me
;
they
were
also
the
last
words
the
prosecutor
said
to
the
jury
at
Coffey
's
trial
.
"
I
could
n't
help
it
,
"
John
Coffey
said
,
holding
the
murdered
,
violated
girls
naked
in
his
arms
.
The
tears
began
to
pour
down
his
cheeks
again
.
"
I
tried
to
take
it
back
,
but
it
was
too
late
!
"
