"Laymon, Richard - The Traveling Vampire Show" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laymon Richard)

where to look.

We tried to look everywhere: at the grandstands ahead of us, at the
mouth of the dirt road behind us, at the gloomy borders of the forest
that surrounded the whole rid and at the gray, dusty ground.

We especially kept watch on the ground. Not because so many people had
been found buried in it over the years, but because of its physical
dangers. Though fairly flat and level, it was scattered with rocks and
broken glass and holes.

The rocks were trecherous like icebergs. Just a small, sharp corner
might be sticking up, but if your foot hits it, you find out that most
of it is buried. The rock stays put and you go down.

You don't want to go down inJanks Fidd. (Forget the double-meaning.)
If you go down, you'll come up in much worse shape.

Even if you're lucky enough to escape bites from spiders or snakes,
you'll probably land on jutting rocks and broken glass.

The field was carpeted with the smashed remains of bottles from
countless solo drinking bouts, trysts, wild parties, orgies, satanic
festivities and what have you. The pieces were hard to see on gray
days like this, but whenever the sun was out, the sparkle and glare of
the broken bottles was almost blinding. \020Of course, you never
walked barefoot on Janks Field. And you dreaded a fall.

But falls were almost impossible to avoid. If you didn't trip on a
jutting rock, you would probably stumble in a hole. There were snake
holes, gopher holes, spider holes, shallow depressions from old graves,
and even shovel holes. Though all the corpses had supposedly been
removed back in 1954, flesh, open holes kept turning up. God knows
why. But every time we explored Janks Field, we discovered a couple of
new ones.

Those are some of the reasons we watched the ground ahead of our
feet.

We also watched the more distant ground to make sure we weren't about
to get jumped. That sort of thing had happened to us a few times
before in Janks Field. If it was going to happen again, we wanted to
see it coming and haul ass.

Our heads swung from side to side as we made our way toward the
stadium. Each of us, every so often, walked sideways and backward. It
was rough on the nerves.

And it suddenly got rougher when Slim, nodding her head to the left,
said, "Here comes a dog." Rusty and I looked. Rusty said, "Oh,