-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Кладбище домашних животных
-
- Стр. 342/409
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
I
'm
that
lady
,
all
right
,
"
Rachel
said
.
She
thought
about
it
.
"
Yes
,
I
suppose
I
could
do
that
,
could
n't
I
?
If
any
of
the
agencies
has
a
car
.
"
The
security
guard
laughed
.
"
Oh
,
they
'll
have
cars
.
Only
time
they
do
n't
have
cars
at
Logan
is
when
the
airport
's
fogged
in
.
Which
is
a
lot
of
the
time
.
"
Rachel
barely
heard
her
.
In
her
mind
she
was
already
trying
to
calculate
it
.
She
could
n't
get
to
Portland
in
time
to
catch
her
Bangor
flight
even
if
she
bulleted
up
the
turnpike
at
a
suicidal
pace
.
So
figure
driving
straight
through
.
How
long
?
That
depended
on
how
far
.
Two
hundred
and
fifty
miles
,
that
was
the
figure
which
came
to
mind
.
Something
Jud
had
said
maybe
.
It
was
going
to
be
at
least
a
quarter
past
twelve
before
she
got
going
,
probably
closer
to
12:30
A.M.
.
It
was
all
turnpike
.
She
thought
that
her
chances
of
going
the
whole
distance
at
sixty-five
without
getting
hauled
down
for
speeding
were
reasonably
good
.
She
ran
the
figures
quickly
in
her
head
,
dividing
sixty-five
into
two
hundred
and
fifty
.
Not
quite
four
hours
.
Well
...
say
four
even
.
She
would
have
to
stop
once
and
go
to
the
bathroom
.
And
although
sleep
seemed
impossibly
distant
now
,
she
knew
her
own
resources
well
enough
to
believe
she
would
also
have
to
stop
for
a
great
big
black
coffee
Still
,
she
could
be
back
in
Ludlow
before
first
light
.
Mulling
all
this
over
,
she
started
for
the
stairs
--
the
car
rental
desks
were
one
level
down
from
the
concourses
.
"
Good
luck
,
honey
,
"
the
security
guard
called
.
"
Take
care
.
"
"
Thanks
,
"
Rachel
said
.
She
felt
that
she
deserved
some
good
luck
.
The
smell
hit
him
first
,
and
Louis
recoiled
,
gagging
.
He
hung
on
the
edge
of
the
grave
,
breathing
hard
,
and
just
when
he
thought
he
had
his
gorge
under
control
,
his
entire
big
,
tasteless
meal
came
up
in
a
spurt
.
He
threw
up
on
the
far
side
of
the
grave
and
then
put
his
head
against
the
ground
,
panting
.
At
last
the
nausea
passed
.
Teeth
clamped
together
,
he
took
the
flashlight
out
of
his
armpit
and
shone
it
down
into
the
open
coffin
.
A
deep
horror
that
was
very
nearly
awe
stole
over
him
--
it
was
the
sort
of
feeling
usually
reserved
for
the
worst
nightmares
,
the
ones
you
can
barely
remember
upon
awakening
.
