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- Стр. 343/409
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Gage
's
head
was
gone
.
Louis
's
hands
were
trembling
so
badly
he
had
to
hold
the
flashlight
with
both
hands
,
gripping
it
the
way
a
policeman
is
taught
to
grip
his
service
revolver
on
the
target
range
.
Still
the
beam
jittered
back
and
forth
and
it
was
a
moment
before
he
could
train
the
pencil-thin
beam
back
into
the
grave
.
It
's
impossible
,
he
told
himself
,
just
remember
that
what
you
thought
you
saw
is
impossible
.
He
slowly
moved
the
narrow
beam
up
Gage
's
three-foot
length
,
from
the
new
shoes
to
the
suit
pants
,
the
little
coat
(
ah
,
Christ
,
no
two-year-old
was
ever
meant
to
wear
a
suit
)
,
to
the
open
collar
,
to
--
His
breath
caught
in
a
harsh
sound
that
was
too
outraged
to
be
a
gasp
,
and
all
his
fury
at
Gage
's
death
came
back
in
a
rush
,
drowning
fears
of
the
supernatural
,
the
paranatural
,
his
growing
certainty
that
he
had
crossed
over
into
the
country
of
the
mad
.
Louis
scrabbled
in
his
back
pocket
for
his
handkerchief
and
pulled
it
out
.
Holding
the
light
in
one
hand
,
he
leaned
into
the
grave
again
,
almost
past
the
point
of
balance
.
If
one
of
the
segments
of
grave
liner
had
fallen
now
,
it
would
have
surely
broken
his
neck
.
Gently
he
used
his
handkerchief
to
wipe
away
the
damp
moss
that
was
growing
on
Gage
's
skin
--
moss
so
dark
that
he
had
been
momentarily
fooled
into
thinking
Gage
's
whole
head
was
gone
.
The
moss
was
damp
but
no
more
than
a
scum
.
He
should
have
expected
it
;
there
had
been
rain
,
and
a
grave
liner
was
not
watertight
.
Flashing
the
light
to
either
side
,
Louis
saw
that
the
coffin
was
lying
in
a
thin
puddle
.
Beneath
the
light
slime
of
growth
,
he
saw
his
son
.
The
mortician
,
aware
that
the
coffin
could
not
be
opened
after
such
a
terrible
accident
,
had
nonetheless
done
the
best
he
could
--
morticians
almost
always
did
.
Looking
at
his
son
was
like
looking
at
a
badly
made
doll
.
Gage
's
head
bulged
in
strange
directions
.
His
eyes
had
sunken
deep
behind
closed
lids
.
Something
white
protruded
from
his
mouth
like
an
albino
tongue
,
and
Louis
thought
at
first
that
they
had
,
perhaps
,
used
too
much
embalming
fluid
.
It
was
tricky
stuff
at
best
,
and
with
a
child
it
was
next
to
impossible
to
tell
how
much
was
enough
...
or
too
much
.
Then
he
realized
it
was
only
cotton
.
He
reached
in
and
plucked
it
out
of
the
boy
's
mouth
.
Gage
's
lips
,
oddly
lax
and
seeming
somehow
too
dark
and
too
wide
,
closed
with
a
faint
but
audible
plip
!
He
threw
the
cotton
into
the
grave
where
it
floated
in
the
shallow
puddle
and
gleamed
a
loathsome
white
.
Now
one
of
Gage
's
cheeks
had
a
hollow
old-man
's
look
.
"
Gage
,
"
he
whispered
,
"
going
to
take
you
out
now
,
okay
?
"
