-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Зеленая миля
-
- Стр. 218/304
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
He
took
the
first
step
up
,
so
that
the
light
over
the
stoop
could
fall
fully
on
his
face
,
I
joined
him
.
Hal
Moores
looked
back
and
forth
between
us
,
his
angry
determination
giving
way
to
bewilderment
.
"
What
are
you
doing
here
?
"
he
asked
.
"
Not
only
is
it
the
shank
of
the
morning
,
you
boys
have
the
duty
.
I
know
you
do
,
I
've
got
the
roster
pinned
up
in
my
workshop
.
So
what
in
the
name
of
...
oh
,
Jesus
.
It
's
not
a
lockdown
,
is
it
?
Or
a
riot
?
"
He
looked
between
us
,
and
his
gaze
sharpened
.
"
Who
else
is
down
by
that
truck
?
"
Let
me
do
the
talking
.
So
I
had
instructed
Brutal
,
but
now
the
time
to
talk
was
here
and
I
could
n't
even
open
my
mouth
.
On
my
way
into
work
that
afternoon
I
had
carefully
planned
out
what
I
was
going
to
say
when
we
got
here
,
and
had
thought
that
it
did
n't
sound
too
crazy
.
Not
normal
--
nothing
about
it
was
normal
--
but
maybe
close
enough
to
normal
to
get
us
through
the
door
and
give
us
a
chance
.
Give
John
a
chance
.
But
now
all
my
carefully
rehearsed
words
were
lost
in
a
roaring
confusion
.
Thoughts
and
images
--
Del
burning
,
the
mouse
dying
,
Toot
jerking
in
Old
Sparky
's
lap
and
screaming
that
he
was
a
done
tom
turkey
--
whirled
inside
my
head
like
sand
caught
in
a
dust-devil
.
I
believe
there
is
good
in
the
world
,
all
of
it
flowing
in
one
way
or
another
from
a
loving
God
.
But
I
believe
there
's
another
force
as
well
,
one
every
bit
as
real
as
the
God
I
have
prayed
to
my
whole
life
,
and
that
it
works
consciously
to
bring
all
our
decent
impulses
to
ruin
.
Not
Satan
,
I
do
n't
mean
Satan
(
although
I
believe
he
is
real
,
too
)
,
but
a
kind
of
demon
of
discord
,
a
prankish
and
stupid
thing
that
laughs
with
glee
when
an
old
man
sets
himself
on
fire
trying
to
light
his
pipe
or
when
a
much-loved
baby
puts
its
first
Christmas
toy
in
its
mouth
and
chokes
to
death
on
it
.
I
've
had
a
lot
of
years
to
think
on
this
,
all
the
way
from
Cold
Mountain
to
Georgia
Pines
,
and
I
believe
that
force
was
actively
at
work
among
us
on
that
morning
,
swirling
everywhere
like
a
fog
,
trying
to
keep
John
Coffey
away
from
Melinda
Moores
.
"
Warden
...
Hal
...
I.
.
.
"
Nothing
I
tried
made
any
sense
.
He
raised
the
pistol
again
,
pointing
it
between
Brutal
and
me
,
not
listening
.
His
bloodshot
eyes
had
gotten
very
wide
.
And
here
came
Harry
Terwilliger
,
being
more
or
less
pulled
along
by
our
big
boy
,
who
was
wearing
his
wide
and
daffily
charming
smile
.
"
Coffey
,
"
Moores
breathed
.
"
John
Coffey
.
"
He
pulled
in
breath
and
yelled
in
a
voice
that
was
reedy
but
strong
:
"
Halt
!
Halt
right
there
,
or
I
shoot
!
"
From
somewhere
behind
him
,
a
weak
and
wavery
female
voice
called
:
"
Hal
?
What
are
you
doing
out
there
?
Who
are
you
talking
to
,
you
fucking
cocksucker
?
"
He
turned
in
that
direction
for
just
a
moment
,
his
face
confused
and
despairing
.
Just
a
moment
,
as
I
say
,
but
it
should
have
been
long
enough
for
me
to
snatch
the
long-barrelled
gun
out
of
his
hand
.
Except
I
could
n't
lift
my
own
hands
.
They
might
have
had
weights
tied
to
them
.
My
head
seemed
full
of
static
,
like
a
radio
trying
to
broadcast
during
an
electrical
storm
.
The
only
emotions
I
remember
feeling
were
fright
and
a
kind
of
dull
embarrassment
for
Hal
.
Harry
and
John
Coffey
reached
the
foot
of
the
steps
.
Moores
turned
away
from
the
sound
of
his
wife
's
voice
and
raised
the
gun
again
.
He
said
later
that
yes
,
he
fully
intended
to
shoot
Coffey
;
he
suspected
we
were
all
prisoners
,
and
that
the
brains
behind
whatever
was
happening
were
back
by
the
truck
,
lurking
in
the
shadows
.
He
did
n't
understand
why
we
should
have
been
brought
to
his
house
,
but
revenge
seemed
the
most
likely
possibility
.
