-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Стивен Кинг
-
- Кладбище домашних животных
-
- Стр. 375/409
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Louis
?
"
he
tied
to
call
again
,
but
only
a
faint
croak
actually
emerged
because
now
he
could
smell
the
thing
which
had
come
into
his
house
here
at
the
end
of
the
night
.
It
was
a
dirty
,
low
smell
--
the
smell
of
poisoned
tidal
flats
.
Jud
could
make
out
bulking
shapes
in
the
gloom
--
Norma
's
armoire
,
the
Welsh
dresser
,
the
highboy
--
but
no
details
.
He
tried
to
get
to
his
feet
on
legs
that
had
gone
to
water
,
his
mind
screaming
that
he
needed
more
time
,
that
he
was
too
old
to
face
this
again
without
more
time
;
Timmy
Baterman
had
been
bad
enough
,
and
Jud
had
been
young
then
.
The
swing
door
opened
and
let
in
shadows
.
One
of
the
shadows
was
more
substantial
than
the
others
.
Dear
God
,
that
stink
.
Shuffling
steps
in
the
darkness
.
"
Gage
?
"
Jud
gained
his
feet
at
last
.
From
one
corner
of
his
eye
he
saw
the
roll
of
cigarette
ash
in
the
Jim
Beam
ashtray
.
"
Gage
,
is
that
y
--
"
A
hideous
mewling
sound
now
arose
,
and
for
a
moment
all
of
Jud
's
bones
turned
to
white
ice
.
It
was
not
Louis
's
son
returned
from
the
grave
but
some
hideous
monster
.
No
.
It
was
neither
.
It
was
Church
,
crouched
in
the
hall
doorway
,
making
that
sound
.
The
cat
's
eyes
flared
like
dirty
lamps
.
Then
his
eyes
moved
in
the
other
direction
and
fixed
on
the
thing
which
had
come
in
with
the
cat
.
Jud
began
to
back
up
,
trying
to
catch
at
his
thoughts
,
trying
to
hold
on
to
his
reason
in
the
face
of
that
smell
.
