Читать книгу The Ambidextrist - Peter Rock - Страница 7

ONE

FIRST CROSSING

The four boys snatch the tattered magazine from each other, cursing when it rips and then trying to pull single pages free. It’s late. They stand beneath an overpass, light filtering down, the silent, black river on one side and the empty train tracks on the other. The boys are nervous, excited; they are only thirteen.

“Man,” Terrell says. “These ladies are licking each other.”

“You haven’t seen anything.” Darnay laughs. He kicks at the small pile of things they’ve found, hidden under some old boards, inside a plastic bag. Taking out a pair of pants, he pulls them on over his shorts, as a joke. He cinches the leather belt around his waist.

Down the river, lighted letters circle atop the Peco building: PHILADELPHIA BELIEVES. A truck rattles past, overhead. Headlights shine, glancing across the water, and disappear.

“Let’s get out of here,” John says.

“Scared?” Swan says. He spills jars from the bag, along the ground. “Baby food,” he says. “No money.”

And then, beyond the train tracks, the bushes begin to shake and rustle. First to one side, then the other, as if a number of people are about to emerge. A scream rises, and a dark shape suddenly breaks loose, lunging closer, shouting sounds that aren’t quite words.

The boys turn and run, stumbling on the rough gravel, down the river, pages of the magazine still in their hands. Their backs crawl, bowed out, ready to be touched.

“Wait,” John says, lagging behind. “No one’s following.”

They slow and look behind them, not stopping until they’re certain.

One man stands there, fifty yards away, illuminated by the faint light of the Vine Street on-ramp. They can’t hear him, if he’s still screaming. His body reflects slightly, his shoulders padded or hunched somehow. He kicks his legs out, his feet pointed; his arms are above his head, and he keeps twisting and kicking, all in slow motion.

“White guy,” John says.

“There’s just him,” Darnay says, embarrassed for running. “We could go back.”

“Not now,” Terrell says. “He might have friends.”