"Davis, Jerry - Random Acts" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

RANDOM ACTS

й 1997 by Jerry J. Davis



1. LITTLE RED LIGHTS



HAVE YOU SEEN A
LITTLE RED LIGHT?

If you have, you'll know it,
and if you want to share your
experience with others who
have seen and heard the same
thing then come to 225 W.
Poplar Street, Berkeley, at
8:30 PM on Friday 6/20/84.

The building at 225 W. Poplar Street is an ugly Co-Op meeting
hall with brown-painted stucco walls and a flat roof that's
trimmed in orange. Nervous-looking people stand on the front lawn
smoking cigarettes and talking in low voices; they watch Tom, Pris
and I with haunted expressions as we pull up in Tom's car. Tom
looks back at them and they turn quickly away, staring at their
own feet, a companion's elbow, a tree . . . anything but us. As we
get out of the car and walk up the rough, rock-imbedded concrete
sidewalk toward them, they move away.
Tom nudges me. "If they kick me out, I want you to stay. Say
you don't know me. Okay?"
I nod slightly. We've been over this before --- they'd
already told him they don't want publicity, even though they'd
been putting up those weird signs all over town. A reporter from
the Berkeley Barb would not be welcome.
The inside the building is dim and smells of marijuana. There
are folding metal chairs set up in rows, and at the front of the
room there's a cheap utilitarian table and an obviously hand-built
podium that's wired for sound. All throughout the room people
gather in little groups, whispering, and one mustachioed man
dressed in black is lighting candles and placing them on the cheap
table. Everyone glances at us and at each other but they avoid
direct eye contact.
I lean over and whisper into Pris's ear. "Boy, do these
people know how to party."
Pris grins. This brightens my mood a bit, but only for a
while; the place has a feeling of musty, suppressed dread, and I'm
beginning to wonder if we've stumbled into some sort of satanic
cult. Tom is quiet, taking it all in; his eyes are like camera