"Barker, Clive - Sacrament (b)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barker Clive)

claimed only to know Steep; but apparently he'd known them both.

'I was thirty. Way too old for Rosa. She liked 'em real young. And of course she liked Steep. I mean the two of
them, they were like husband and wife and brother and sister and fuck knows what else all rolled into one. I
didn't stand a chance with her.' He let the subject trail away, and picked up another. 'You want to do some good
for these bears?' he said. 'Get out there on the dump and poison 'em. Teach 'em not to come back. Maybe it'll
take five seasons, and that'll be a lot of dead bears, but they'll get the message sooner or later.' Finally he
downed the contents of his glass, and while the liquor still burned his throat said: 'I try not to think about them,
but I do-' He wasn't talking about the bears now, Will knew. 'I can see both of them, like it was yesterday.' He
shook his head. 'Both of them so beautiful. So . . . pure.' His lip curled at the word, as though he meant its
antithesis. 'It must be terrible for them.'

'What must be terrible?'

'Living in this filthy world.' He looked up at Will. 'That's the worst part for me,' he said. 'That the older I get, the
more I understand 'em.' Were those tears in his eyes, Will wondered, or simply rheum? 'And I hate myself for it
so fucking much.' He put down his empty glass, and with sudden determination announced: 'That's all you're
getting from me.' He crossed to the door and unbolted it. 'So you may as well just get the hell out of here.'

'Well, thank you for your time,' Will said, stepping past the old man and into the freezing air.

Guthrie waved the courtesy away. 'If you see Sister Ruth again……'

'I won't,' Will said. 'She died last February.'

'What of?'

'Ovarian cancer.'

'Huh. That's what you get for not using what God gave you,' Guthrie said.

The dog had joined them at the threshold now, and was growling loudly. Not at Will this time, but at whatever
lay out there in the night. Guthrie didn't hush her, but stared out at the darkness. 'She smells bears. You'd better
not hang around.'

'I won't,' Will said, offering his hand to Guthrie. The man looked down at it in puzzlement for a moment, as
though he'd forgotten this simple ritual. Then he took it.

'You should think about what I told you,' he said. 'About poisoning the bears. You'd be doing them a favour.'

'I'd be doing Jacob's work for him,' Will replied. 'That's not what I was put on the planet to do.'

'We're all doing his work just being alive,' Guthrie replied. 'Adding to the trash-heap.'

'Well at least I won't be adding to the population,' Will said, and started from the threshold towards his jeep.

'You and Sister Ruth both,' Guthrie called after him. There was a sudden eruption of fresh barking from his dog,
a shrillness in its din which Will knew all too well. He'd heard camp dogs raise a similar row at the approach of
lions. There was warning in it, and Will took heed. Scanning the darkness to left and right of him he was at the
jeep in half a dozen quickened heartbeats.