"John Dalmas - The Second Coming" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dalmas John)

The large, younger man grinned. "That's gigaton. Five gigatons."


"What the hell you talking about?"


"That five-gigaton rock he's going to call down to land on your roof. Drive you clear
down to hell if you're not careful."


Carl swore again. "Lute, you listen to that Un-gunda enough, your brain'll rot. It's like
smoking dope."


Lute laughed outright. "Like that snoose'll rot out your jaw? When dope comes in a
bottle, I may get interested." He got to his feet. "Right now, though, I'm going to
freshen up my coffee and listen to you tell me why it's worth my time and somebody's
money to kill the guru."


He went to the kitchen. It was lit by a Coleman lamp, despite the generator humming
in an add-on behind the house. The firebox in a hybrid wood and propane stove kept
the coffee pot hot on the backburner. Luther Koskela poured from it into a mug, and
sat down at the table. His uncles followed, the eldest hunched and limping, and sat
down across from him.


"When he's dead," Carl answered, "people won't have to listen to him anymore."


"That's it? Jesus Christ, Carl, it's a hell of a lot cheaper and easier to change the
channel."


Carl's voice was implacable. "It's reason enough. The man's an abomination to God.
God'll be glad when the sonofabitch is dead."


"Huh! When he's dead, people will declare him the second coming of Christ, and he'll
be on television from then on. They'll replay every word he ever said! Every Sunday!
That's what makes someone a messiah. Leave him alive. After a while, people'll get
tired of him. Then he'll die out on his own." Lute paused, grinning hugely. "Leave be,
Carl, and listen to him. Maybe he'll save your soul."


Carl swore at greater length, this time more angry than surly. Lute laughed. "Well,
never let it be said I turned down fifty thousand."


The swearing stopped. Carl stared. "Fifty thousand?!"