"Barker, Clive - Coldheart Canyon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barker Clive)

TWO
"Kiddo?"
Todd was floating in a blind black place, his body untethered. He couldn't even feel it.
"Kiddo? Can you hear me?"
Despite the darkness all around, it was a comfortable place to be in. There were no predators here in this no-man's-land. There were no sharks circling, wanting ten-percent of his flesh. Todd felt pleasantly removed from everything. Except for that voice calling him.
"Kiddo? If you can hear me, move your finger."
It was a trick, he knew. It was a way to get him to go back to the world where once he'd lived and breathed and been unhappy. But he didn't want to go. It was too brittle that place; brittle and bright. He wanted to stay where he was, here in the darkness, floating and floating.
"Kiddo...it's Donnie."
Donnie?
Wait, that couldn't be right. His older brother, Donnie? They hadn't talked in months. Why would he be here, trying to seduce him out of his comfortable hideaway? But then, if not Donnie, then who? Nobody else ever called him Kiddo.
Todd felt a dim murmur of anxiety. Donnie lived in Texas, for God's sake. What was he doing here?
"Talk to me, Kiddo."
Very reluctantly, Todd forced himself to reply to the summons, though when he finally coaxed his lips to shape it the sound he made was as remote as the moon.
"Donnie?"
"Well, howdy. I must say it's good to have you back in the land of the livin'." He felt a hand laid on his arm. The sensation, like Donnie's voice, and his own, felt distant and dulled.

"You had us a bit stirred up for a while there."
"Why's...it...so dark in here?" Todd said. "Will you have someone turn on the lights?"
"Everything's going to be okay, buddy."
"Donnie. Please. Turn on the lights."
"They are on, Kiddo. It's just you've got some bandages over your face. That's all it is. You're going to be just fine."
Bandages on his face.
Now it all started to come back to him. His last memories. He'd been going under Burrows's knife for the big operation.
The last thing he remembered was Burrows telling him to count backwards from ten. Burrows had been smiling reassuringly at him, and as Todd counted-had thought: I wonder how much work he's had done on that face of his? The nose for sure. And all the lines gone from around his eyes—
“Are you counting, Todd?" Burrows had said.
"Ten. Nine. Eight—"
There hadn't been a seven. Not that Todd could remember. The drugs had swept him off to their own empty version of La-La land.
But now he was back from that dreamless place, and Donnie was here at his bedside, all the way from Texas. Why? And why the bandages over his eyes? Burrows hadn't said anything about bandages.
"My mouth's so dry," Todd whispered.
"No problemo, buddy," Donnie replied gently. "I'll get the nurse in here."
"I'll have a vodka...straight up."
Donnie chuckled. "I'll see what I can do."
Todd heard him get up and go to the door, and call for a nurse. His consciousness wavered, and he felt himself slipping back into the void from which he'd just been brought by Donnie's voice. The prospect of that lush darkness didn't seem quite as comforting as it had a few moments before. He started to panic, scrambling to keep hold of the world, at least until he knew what had happened to him.
He called out to Donnie: "Where are you? Donnie? Are you there?"
Footsteps came hurriedly back in his direction.
"I'm still here, Kiddo." Donnie's voice was tender. Todd couldn't remember ever hearing such tenderness in it before now.
"Burrows didn't tell me it'd be like this," Todd said.
"There's nothing to get worked up about," Donnie replied.
Even in his semi-drugged state, Todd knew a lie when he heard one.
"You're not a very good actor," he said.
"Runs in the family," Donnie quipped, and squeezed Todd's arm again. "Just kidding."
"Yeah...yeah..." Todd said. As he spoke a spasm of pain ran from the bridge of his nose and spread across his face in both directions. He was suddenly in excruciating agony. "Jesus," he gasped. "Jesus. Make it stop!"
He felt Donnie's reassuring hand go from his arm; heard his brother crossing to the door again, yelling as he went, his voice suddenly shrill with fear: "Will somebody get in here. Right now! Christ!"
Todd's panic, momentarily soothed by his brother's voice, started to rise up in him again. He raised his hand to his face. The bandages were tight and smooth, like a visor over his head, searing him in. He started to hyperventilate. He was going to die in here, if he didn't get this smothering stuff off his face. He began to claw at the bandages. He needed air. Right now!
Air, for Christ's sake, air—
"Mr. Pickett, don't do that! Please!"
The nurse caught hold of Todd's hands, but the panic and the pain made him strong and she couldn't prevent him from digging his fingers beneath the bandages and pulling.
There were flashes of light in his head, but he knew it wasn't the light of the outside world he was seeing. His brain was overloading; fear was leaping like lightning across his skull. His blood roared in his ears. His body thrashed around in the bed as though he was in the grip of a seizure.
“All right, nurse. I've got him now."
Suddenly, there were hands around his wrists. Somebody stronger than the nurse was gently but insistently pulling his fingers away from his face. Then a voice came to find him through the sound of his own sobs.