-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Зеленая миля
-
- Стр. 19/304
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
No
,
sir
,
"
I
said
,
raising
my
hand
.
"
He
'll
want
me
to
take
sulfa
,
and
I
'll
be
throwing
up
in
every
comer
of
my
office
by
the
end
of
the
week
.
It
'll
run
its
course
,
but
in
the
meantime
,
I
guess
we
best
stay
out
of
the
playground
.
"
She
kissed
my
forehead
right
over
my
left
eyebrow
,
which
always
gives
me
the
prickles
...
as
Janice
well
knew
.
"
Poor
baby
.
As
if
that
awful
Percy
Wetmore
was
n't
enough
.
Come
to
bed
soon
.
"
I
did
,
but
before
I
did
,
I
stepped
out
onto
the
back
porch
to
empty
out
(
and
checked
the
wind
direction
with
a
wet
thumb
before
I
did
--
what
our
parents
tell
us
when
we
are
small
seldom
goes
ignored
,
no
matter
how
foolish
it
may
be
)
.
Peeing
outdoors
is
one
joy
of
country
living
the
poets
never
quite
got
around
to
,
but
it
was
no
joy
that
night
;
the
water
coming
out
of
me
burned
like
a
line
of
lit
coal-oil
.
Yet
I
thought
it
had
been
a
little
worse
that
afternoon
,
and
knew
it
had
been
worse
the
two
or
three
days
before
.
I
had
hopes
that
maybe
I
had
started
to
mend
.
Never
was
a
hope
more
ill-founded
.
No
one
had
told
me
that
sometimes
a
bug
that
gets
up
inside
there
,
where
it
's
warm
and
wet
,
can
take
a
day
or
two
off
to
rest
before
coming
on
strong
again
.
I
would
have
been
surprised
to
know
it
.
I
would
have
been
even
more
surprised
to
know
that
,
in
another
fifteen
or
twenty
years
,
there
would
be
pills
you
could
take
that
would
smack
that
sort
of
infection
out
of
your
system
in
record
time
.
.
and
while
those
pills
might
make
you
feel
a
little
sick
at
your
stomach
or
loose
in
your
bowels
,
they
almost
never
made
you
vomit
the
way
Dr.
Sadler
's
sulfa
pills
did
.
Back
in
"
32
,
there
was
n't
much
you
could
do
but
wait
,
and
try
to
ignore
that
feeling
that
someone
had
spilled
coal-oil
inside
your
works
and
then
touched
a
match
to
it
.
I
finished
my
butt
,
went
into
the
bedroom
,
and
finally
got
to
sleep
.
I
dreamed
of
girls
with
shy
smiles
and
blood
in
their
hair
.
The
next
morning
there
was
a
pink
memo
slip
on
my
desk
,
asking
me
to
stop
by
the
warden
's
office
as
soon
as
I
could
.
I
knew
what
that
was
about
--
there
were
unwritten
but
very
important
rules
to
the
game
,
and
I
had
stopped
playing
by
them
for
awhile
yesterday
--
and
so
I
put
it
off
as
long
as
possible
.
Like
going
to
the
doctor
about
my
waterworks
problem
,
I
suppose
.
I
've
always
thought
this
"
get-it-over-with
"
business
was
overrated
.
Anyway
,
I
did
n't
hurry
to
Warden
Moores
's
office
.
I
stripped
off
my
wool
uniform
coat
instead
,
hung
it
over
the
back
of
my
chair
,
and
turned
on
the
fan
in
the
corner
--
it
was
another
hot
one
.
Then
I
sat
down
and
went
over
Brutus
Howell
's
night-sheet
.
There
was
nothing
there
to
get
alarmed
about
.
Delacroix
had
wept
briefly
after
turning
in
--
he
did
most
nights
,
and
more
for
himself
than
for
the
folks
he
had
roasted
alive
,
I
am
quite
sure
--
and
then
had
take
Mr.
Jingles
,
the
mouse
,
out
of
the
cigar
box
he
slept
in
.
That
had
calmed
Del
,
and
he
had
slept
like
a
baby
the
rest
of
the
night
.
Mr.
Jingles
had
most
likely
spent
it
on
Delacroix
's
stomach
,
with
his
tail
curled
over
his
paws
,
eyes
unblinking
.
It
was
as
if
God
had
decided
Delacroix
needed
a
guardian
angel
,
but
had
decreed
in
His
wisdom
that
only
a
mouse
would
do
for
a
rat
like
our
homicidal
friend
from
Louisiana
.
Not
all
that
was
in
Brutal
's
report
,
of
course
,
but
I
had
done
enough
night
watches
myself
to
fill
in
the
stuff
between
the
lines
.
There
was
a
brief
note
about
Coffey
:
"
Laid
awake
,
mostly
quiet
,
may
have
cried
some
.
I
tried
to
get
some
talk
started
,
but
after
a
few
grunted
replies
from
Coffey
,
gave
up
.
Paul
or
Harry
may
have
better
luck
.
"
"
Getting
the
talk
started
"
was
at
the
center
of
our
job
,
really
.
I
did
n't
know
it
then
,
but
looking
back
from
the
vantage
point
of
this
strange
old
age
(
I
think
all
old
ages
seem
strange
to
the
folk
who
must
endure
them
)
,
I
understand
that
it
was
,
and
why
I
did
n't
see
it
then
--
it
was
too
big
,
as
central
to
our
work
as
our
respiration
was
to
our
lives
.
It
was
n't
important
that
the
floaters
be
good
at
"
getting
the
talk
started
,
"
but
it
was
vital
for
me
and
Harry
and
Brutal
and
Dean
...
and
it
was
one
reason
why
Percy
Wetmore
was
such
a
disaster
.
The
inmates
hated
him
,
the
guards
hated
him
...
everyone
hated
him
,
presumably
,
except
for
his
political
connections
,
Percy
himself
,
and
maybe
(
but
only
maybe
)
his
mother
.
He
was
like
a
dose
of
white
arsenic
sprinkled
into
a
wedding
cake
,
and
I
think
I
knew
he
spelled
disaster
the
start
.
He
was
an
accident
waiting
to
happen
.
As
for
the
rest
of
us
,
we
would
have
scoffed
at
the
idea
that
we
functioned
most
usefully
not
as
the
guards
of
the
condemned
but
as
their
psychiatrists
part
of
me
still
wants
to
scoff
at
that
idea
today
--
but
we
knew
about
getting
the
talk
started
...
and
without
the
talk
,
men
facing
Old
Sparky
had
a
nasty
habit
of
going
insane
.
I
made
a
note
at
the
bottom
of
Brutal
's
report
to
talk
to
John
Coffey
--
to
try
,
at
least
--
and
then
passed
on
to
a
note
from
Curtis
Anderson
,
the
warden
's
chief
assistant
.
