Читать книгу Behind the Moon - Madison Smartt Bell - Страница 34

As Marko came over the ledge Jamal got up quickly and scraped the rattling sack of cans to tangle Marko’s feet.

“You little shit!” cried Marko. With his heel he kicked the trash bag behind him, out over the ledge. A moment of silence, then a clatter when it landed somewhere down below.

Jamal took one backward step, reaching under the hem of his windbreaker to draw the pistol from the bottom of his spine. The chrome of it glimmered weakly in the moonlight. It looked small.

“What is this, a fucking cap gun?” Marko said. “You’re not gonna shoot me.”

Julie was looking at Jamal’s back, since he had put himself exactly between her and Marko, and over his shoulder she saw Marko halt and hold both his hands palm-out, leaning a little into his palms, like he was pushing against an invisible wall. At any moment the tilt would bring him lunging forward, through Jamal, toward her.

“Are you sure?” Jamal said. He lowered the barrel, using both hands; the shot, though tinny, splintered rock at Marko’s feet. Marko looked down as if dumbstruck, then backed a couple of steps away.

“Hold on,” he said, as Sonny pulled himself over the ledge behind him, and came from a crouch upright.

“Jamal,” said Sonny. “Don’t—” He turned slightly and caught Marko by the elbow. “Man, it’s not worth it. Let’s just go.”