Читать книгу Behind the Moon - Madison Smartt Bell - Страница 32

When Marko’s hand came over the ledge Jamal stomped it with his boot-heel, twisting his foot to grind down on it with the metal tap he used to scuff pavement when he put a boot down from his bike. The hand jerked away, but then Marko’s head and shoulders rose up over the rim. Jamal kicked him in the face, but Marko snatched Jamal’s other leg, and Jamal went over backwards, all unstrung and landing so roughly that his head snapped hard against the rock, but maybe the cushion of his thick hair had protected it, and as Marko came over the ledge Jamal got up quickly and with the side of his foot he swiped the sack of cans he’d collected into Marko’s path, and Marko’s feet did tangle on the trash bag—“You little shit!” he cried.

Jamal took one backward step, reaching around to the back of his waistband to pull something out from under the hem of his windbreaker. Julie didn’t get a good look because of the quickness of the movement and the uncertain moonlight, but whatever it was changed Marko’s tone.

“Oh no,” Marko said. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

Julie was looking at Jamal’s back, since he had put himself directly between her and Marko, and over his shoulder she could see Marko holding both of his hands palm-out, leaning a little into his palms; he seemed to lean into an invisible wall. She was aware of the narrow, dark slit at the back of the rock shelter just behind her, as if it had already opened to enclose her, as if she had already moved into the close, tight mouth of the cave.

“Are you sure?” Jamal asked. Was his voice slightly trembling? It was steady when he spoke again. “How bad do you really want to find out?”

“Jamal,” Marko said, staying just where he was. “It gets so much worse.”