"Brooks, Terry - A Knight Of The Word" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

Except for his dream about Simon Lawrence, the one in which the old man recognized him from the past, the one in which he recognized that the old man's words were true and he had indeed killed the Wizard of Oz. He'd had that same dream three times now, and each time it had revealed a little bit more of what he would do. He had never had a dream three times, even when he was a Knight of the Word; he had never had a dream mare than once. It had frightened him at first, unnerved him so that even though he was already living in Seattle and working for Simon he had thought to leave at once, to go far, far away from even the possibility of the dream coming to pass.

It was Stef who had convinced him that the way you banish the things you fear is to stand up to them. He had decided to stay finally, and it had been the right choice. He wasn't afraid of the dream anymore. He knew it wasn't going to happen, that he wasn't truing to kill Simon. Simon Lawrence and his incredible work at Fresh Start and Pass/Go was the future John Ross had chosen to embrace.

Ross stepped out of the elevator into the coffee room. The room was large but bare, save for a couple of multipurpose tables with folding chairs clustered about, the coffee machine and cups rotting on a cabinet filled with coffee-making materials, a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a set of old shelves containing an odd assortment of everyday china pieces, silverware, and glasses.

Ray Hapgood was sitting at one of the tables as Ross appeared, reading the Post-Intelligencer. 'My man, John!' he greeted, dancing up. 'How goes the speech-writing effort? We gonna make the Wiz sound like the Second Coming?'

Ross laughed 'He doesn't need that kind of help from me. Most people already think he is the Second Coming.'

Hapgood chuckled and shook his head. Ray was the director of education at Pass/Go, a graduate of the University of Washington with an undergraduate degree in English literature and years. of teaching experience in the .Seattle public school system, where he had worked before coming to Simon. He was a tall, lean black man with short-cropped hair receding dramatically toward the crown of his head, his eyes bright and welcoming, his smile ready. He was a °black' man because that was what he called himself None of that 'African American' stuff for him. Black American was okay, but black was good enough. He had little time or patience for that political-correctness nonsense. What you called him wasn't going to make any difference as to whether or not he liked you or were his friend. He was that kind of guy-blunt, open, hardworking, right to the point. Ross liked him a lot.

'Della sends you her love,' Ross said, tongue firmly in cheek, and moved over to the coffee machine. He would have preferred a 1atte, but that meant a two-block hike. He wasn't up to it.

'Yeah, Della's in love with me, sure enough; Ray agreed solemnly. 'Cart blame the woman, can you?'

Ross shoal his head, pouring himself a cup and stirring in a little cream. 'But it isn't right for you to string her along like you do. You have to fish or cut bait, Ray'

'Fish or cut bait?' Ray stared at him. 'What's that, some sort of midwestern saying, something you Ohio homeboys tell each other"

'Yep' 'Ross moved over and sat down across from him, leaning

the black staff against his chair. He took a sip. 'What do you Seattle homeboys say?'

'We say, "Shit or get off the pot;" but I expect that sort of talk offends your senses, so I don't use it around you: Ray shrugged and went back to his paper. After a minute, he said, 'Damn, why do I bother reading this rag? It just depresses me'

Carole Price walked in, smiled at Ross, and moved over to the coffee machine. 'What depresses you, Ray?"

'This damn newspaper! People! Life in general' Ray Hapgood leaned back and shook the paper as if to rid it of spiders. 'Listen to this. There's three stories in here, all of them the same story really. Story one. Woman living in Renton is depressed-lost her job, ex-husband's not paying support for the one kid that's admittedly his, boyfriend beats her regularly and with enough disregard for the neighbours that they've called the police a dozen times, and then he drinks and totals her car. End result? She goes home and pets a gun to her head and kills herself-But she takes time first to kill all three children because-as she says in the note she so thoughtfully leaves-she cant imagine them wanting to live without her'

Carole nodded. Blond, fit, middle-aged, a veteran of the war against the abuse of women and children, she was the detector of Fresh Start. 'I read about that'

'Story two.' Hapgood plowed ahead with a nod of satisfaction. 'Estranged husband decides he's had enough of life. Goes home to visit the wife and children, two of than his from a former marriage, two of them hers from same. Kills her, 'cause she's his wife, and kills his children, cause they're his, see. Lets her children live, 'cause they aren't his and he doesn't see them as his responsibility.'

Carole shook her head and sighed.

'Story three: Hapgood rolled his eyes dramatically before continuing. 'Ex-husband can't stand the thought of his former wife with another man. Goes over to their trailer with a gun, shoots them both, then shoots himself Leaves three small children orphaned and homeless in the process. Too bad for them'

He threw down the newspaper. 'We could have helped all these people, damn it! We could have helped it we could have gotten to them! If they'd just came to us, these women, just come to us and told us they felt threatened and . . '

He threw up his hands. 'I don't know, it's all such a waste!'

'It's that, all right,' agreed Carole. Ross sipped his coffee and nodded, but didn't say anything.

'Then, right on the same page, like they cant see the irony of it, is an article about the fuss being created over the Pirates of the Caribbean exhibit in Disney World!'

Ray looked furious. 'See, these pirates are chasing these serving wenches around a table and then auctioning them off, all on this ride, and some people are offended. Okay, I can understand that. But this story, and all the fuss over it, earns the same amount of space, and a whole lot more public interest, than what's happened to these women and children. And I'll bet Disney gives the pirates more time and money than they give the homeless. I mean, who cares about the homeless, right? Long as it isn't you or me, who cares?'

'You're obsessing, Ray; said Jip Wing, a young volunteer who had wandered in during the exchange. Hapgood shot him a look.