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- Стр. 345/409
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Hey-ho
,
let
's
go
.
"
Indeed
,
"
Louis
muttered
.
The
wind
rose
,
shrieking
briefly
through
the
trees
and
making
him
look
around
uneasily
.
He
laid
the
shovel
,
the
pick
he
had
yet
had
to
use
,
the
gloves
,
and
the
flashlight
beside
the
bundle
.
Using
the
light
was
a
temptation
,
but
he
resisted
it
.
Leaving
the
body
and
the
tools
,
Louis
walked
back
the
way
he
had
come
and
arrived
at
the
high
wrought-iron
fence
about
five
minutes
later
.
There
,
across
the
street
,
was
his
Civic
,
parked
neatly
at
the
curb
.
So
near
and
yet
so
far
.
Louis
looked
at
it
for
a
moment
and
then
struck
off
in
a
different
direction
.
This
time
he
moved
away
from
the
gate
,
walking
along
the
wrought-iron
fence
until
it
turned
away
from
Mason
Street
at
a
neat
right
angle
.
There
was
a
drainage
ditch
here
,
and
Louis
looked
into
it
.
What
he
saw
made
him
shudder
.
There
were
masses
of
rotting
flowers
here
,
layer
upon
layer
of
them
,
washed
down
by
seasons
of
rain
and
snow
.
Christ
.
No
,
not
Christ
.
These
leavings
were
made
in
propitiation
of
a
much
older
God
than
the
Christian
one
.
People
have
called
Him
different
things
at
different
times
,
but
Rachel
's
sister
gave
Him
a
perfectly
good
name
,
I
think
:
Oz
the
Gweat
and
Tewwible
,
God
of
dead
things
left
in
the
ground
,
God
of
rotting
flowers
in
drainage
ditches
,
God
of
the
Mystery
.
Louis
stared
down
into
the
ditch
as
if
hypnotized
.
At
last
he
dragged
his
gaze
away
with
a
little
gasp
--
the
gasp
of
one
who
has
come
to
,
or
who
has
been
called
from
a
mesmerist
's
trance
by
the
final
number
in
a
count
of
ten
.
He
went
on
.
He
had
n't
walked
far
before
he
found
what
he
was
looking
for
,
and
he
suspected
that
his
mind
had
neatly
stored
this
bit
of
information
on
the
day
of
Gage
's
burial
.
Here
,
looming
in
the
windy
dark
,
was
the
cemetery
's
crypt
.
