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- Кладбище домашних животных
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- Стр. 398/409
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That
giggle
again
.
Louis
turned
and
was
greeted
by
the
sight
of
his
wife
,
to
whom
he
had
once
carried
a
rose
in
his
teeth
,
lying
halfway
down
the
hall
,
dead
.
Her
legs
were
splayed
out
as
Jud
's
had
been
.
Her
back
and
head
were
cocked
at
an
angle
against
the
wall
.
She
looked
like
a
woman
who
had
gone
to
sleep
while
reading
in
bed
.
He
walked
down
toward
her
.
Hello
,
darling
,
he
thought
,
you
came
home
.
Blood
had
splashed
the
wallpaper
in
idiot
shapes
.
She
had
been
stabbed
a
dozen
times
,
two
dozen
,
who
knew
?
His
scalpel
had
done
this
work
.
Suddenly
he
saw
her
,
really
saw
her
,
and
Louis
Creed
began
to
scream
.
His
screams
echoed
and
racketed
shrilly
through
this
house
where
now
only
dead
lived
and
walked
.
Eyes
bulging
,
face
livid
,
hair
standing
on
end
,
he
screamed
;
the
sounds
came
from
his
swollen
throat
like
the
bells
of
hell
,
terrible
shrieks
that
signaled
the
end
not
of
love
but
of
sanity
;
in
his
mind
all
the
hideous
images
were
suddenly
unloosed
at
once
.
Victor
Pascow
dying
on
the
infirmary
carpet
,
Church
coming
back
with
bits
of
green
plastic
in
his
whiskers
,
Gage
's
baseball
cap
lying
in
the
road
,
full
of
blood
,
but
most
of
all
that
thing
he
had
seen
near
Little
God
Swamp
,
the
thing
that
had
pushed
the
tree
over
,
the
thing
with
the
yellow
eyes
,
the
Wendigo
,
creature
of
the
north
country
,
the
dead
thing
whose
touch
awakens
unspeakable
appetites
.
Rachel
had
not
just
been
killed
.
Something
had
been
...
something
had
been
at
her
.
