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

I checked underneath my bloody shirt again. Rusty looked under his,
too. We both studied Slim's back for a while.

"Bleeding's stopped," I announced.

"Good deal," said Slim.

"But it'll probably start up again if you move around too much. You'd
better just lay there for a while."

"Not like we're going anyplace anyhow," Rusty said.

I stood up, stepped to the front of the roof and leaned forward to see
over the top of the sign. The dog, already staring up at me, bared its
teeth and rumbled a growl. "Get outa here!" I shouted.

It leaped at me. I flinched and my heart lurched, but I held my
position as the dog hit the wall about four feet up and tried to
scramble higher. It worked its legs furiously, claws scratching at the
old wood for a second or two. Then it fell, tumbled onto its side,
flipped over and regained its feet and barked at me.

I muttered, "Up yours, bow-wow." Then I turned away.

Rusty, sitting cross-legged beside Slim, gave me a worried look.
"What're we gonna do?" he asked.

"Stay right here," I told him. "At least for now. Give Slim's wounds
a chance to dry up a little more. When we're ready to go, we'll figure
out something about the dog."

"Maybe it'll be gone by then," Slim said.

"That's a good one," Rusty said.

"God, I'm being nice to it and the thing tries to rip my face off."

"Sometimes," I said, "being nice doesn't work."

"You can say that again."

"Sometimes, being nice "

"Okay, okay," Rusty said.

I sat down beside Slim and turned my hands over. They were rust
colored and sticky. I wiped them on the legs of my jeans, but not much
came off.

Rusty looked at his hands, too. They were as stained as mine.