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- Стивен Кинг
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- Кладбище домашних животных
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- Стр. 346/409
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Coffins
were
stored
there
in
the
winter
when
it
was
too
cold
for
even
the
payloaders
to
dig
in
the
frozen
earth
.
It
was
also
used
when
there
was
a
rush
of
business
.
There
were
such
rushes
of
"
cold
custom
"
from
time
to
time
,
Louis
knew
;
in
any
given
population
there
were
times
when
,
for
no
reason
anyone
could
understand
,
lots
of
people
died
.
"
It
all
balances
out
,
"
Uncle
Carl
told
him
.
"
If
I
have
a
two-week
period
in
May
when
nobody
dies
,
Lou
,
I
can
count
on
a
two-week
period
in
November
when
I
'll
have
ten
funerals
.
Only
it
's
rarely
November
,
and
it
's
never
around
Christmas
,
although
people
always
think
that
's
when
a
lot
of
people
die
.
That
stuff
about
Christmas
depression
is
just
a
load
of
bullshit
.
Just
ask
any
funeral
director
.
Most
people
are
really
happy
around
Christmas
,
and
they
want
to
live
.
So
they
do
live
.
It
's
usually
February
when
we
get
a
big
bulge
.
The
flu
gets
the
old
people
and
there
's
pneumonia
,
of
course
--
but
that
's
not
all
.
There
'll
be
people
who
've
been
battling
cancer
like
mad
bastards
for
a
year
,
sixteen
months
.
Then
bad
old
February
comes
around
and
it
seems
as
if
they
get
tired
and
the
cancer
just
rolls
them
up
like
a
rug
.
On
January
31
they
're
in
remission
,
and
they
feel
as
if
they
're
in
the
pink
.
Come
February
24
they
're
planted
.
People
have
heart
attacks
in
February
,
strokes
in
February
,
renal
failure
in
February
.
It
's
a
bad
month
.
People
get
tired
in
February
.
We
're
used
to
it
,
in
the
business
.
But
then
,
for
no
reason
,
the
same
thing
will
happen
in
June
or
in
October
.
Never
in
August
.
August
's
a
slow
month
.
Unless
a
gas
main
explodes
or
a
city
bus
goes
off
a
bridge
,
you
never
fill
up
a
cemetery
crypt
in
August
.
But
there
have
been
Februarys
when
we
've
had
caskets
stacked
up
three
deep
,
hoping
like
hell
for
a
thaw
so
we
can
plant
some
of
them
before
we
have
to
rent
a
frigging
apartment
.
"
Uncle
Carl
had
laughed
.
And
Louis
,
feeling
a
party
to
something
not
even
his
instructors
in
med
school
knew
,
had
laughed
too
.
The
crypt
's
double
doors
were
set
into
a
grassy
rise
of
hill
,
a
shape
as
natural
and
attractive
as
the
swell
of
a
woman
's
breast
.
This
hill
(
which
Louis
suspected
was
landscaped
rather
than
natural
)
crested
only
a
foot
or
two
below
the
decorative
arrow
tips
of
the
wrought-iron
fence
,
which
remained
even
at
the
top
rather
than
rising
with
the
contour
.
Louis
glanced
around
,
then
scrambled
up
the
slope
.
On
the
other
side
was
an
empty
square
of
ground
,
perhaps
two
acres
in
all
.
No
...
not
quite
empty
.
There
was
a
single
outbuilding
,
like
a
disconnected
shed
.
Probably
belongs
to
the
cemetery
,
Louis
thought
.
That
would
be
where
they
kept
their
grounds
equipment
.
The
streetlights
shone
through
the
moving
leaves
of
a
belt
of
trees
--
old
elms
and
maples
--
that
screened
this
area
from
Mason
Street
.
Louis
saw
no
other
movement
.
He
slid
back
down
on
his
butt
,
afraid
of
falling
and
reinjuring
his
knee
,
and
returned
to
his
son
's
grave
.
He
almost
stumbled
over
the
roll
of
the
tarpaulin
.
He
saw
he
would
have
to
make
two
trips
,
one
with
the
body
and
another
for
the
tools
.
He
bent
,
grimacing
at
his
back
's
protest
,
and
got
the
stiff
canvas
roll
in
his
arms
.
He
could
feel
the
shift
of
Gage
's
body
within
and
steadfastly
ignored
that
part
of
his
mind
which
whispered
constantly
that
he
had
gone
mad
.
