Читать книгу Behind the Moon - Madison Smartt Bell - Страница 35

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

“What would you bet on it?” Jamal raised his left hand to support the pistol, bending his knees slightly; his upper body framed a triangle, with the barrel at the point. Marko kept on leaning forward, as if pushing against an invisible wall, and then he broke through it, roaring, lunging through Jamal toward Julie—the gun made two inconsequential pops and Jamal skipped aside, since Marko wasn’t stopping. Julie edged away, but slowly, like she was pulling her feet out of paste. Behind her she felt the slit of the cave’s opening, as if it had already taken her in.

Marko fell face-down at Julie’s feet. Fluid seeped out from his torso, spreading on the stone beneath him, slow as maple syrup in the moonlight. Julie clapped both hands over her mouth, to clamp off screams and the urge to puke. Where was Karyn? She wished she’d really spent the night at Karyn’s. She wished they both were still ten years old, whispering and scattering cracker crumbs beneath the sheets of a shared bed.

Then Sonny pulled himself over the ledge.

“Jamal,” he said, as he brought himself from a crouch to his feet. “What did you do?”

“What would you do?” Jamal raised the gun barrel bolt upright, pointing at the moon, and for a moment Julie wondered if he’d turn it on himself. Sonny’s eyes went from Jamal to the blood that purled from Marko’s body, then back to Jamal again.

“Jesus,” Sonny said. “It looks like a goddamn starter pistol.”

“Not much knockdown to it,” Jamal said. “But it’ll kill you just the same.” He aimed the pistol at Sonny, bracing it as he had before. “Three shots left.”