"Shaun Hutson - Compulsion" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hutson Shaun)

The shape stood on the bed, unzipped grubby combat trousers and
urinated onto the duvet.

Downstairs, the other two were waiting.

All three of them left the same way they had entered; through a small
window in the kitchen at the rear of the house. There were pieces of
broken glass on the window sill, inside and out.

They made their way towards the bottom of the garden, swallowed up by
the welcoming night.

It was an easy climb over the fence into the field.

They walked unhurriedly through the tall grass, dragging the dustbin
bag.

Behind them, the house remained silent.

CARL THOMPSON DREW gently on the cigarette, then blew out a stream of
bluish-grey smoke. It mingled with the steadily swelling cloud already
hanging in the flat.

The smell helped to mask the odour of damp that permeated the air
inside the abandoned dwelling.

"Give us a light," Graham Brown murmured, leaning closer to his
companion.

Thompson complied and Brown sucked heavily on the Super-king.

At fourteen, Brown was two years Thompson's junior. Dressed in a dark
blue Reebok jacket, combats and a pair of Nike trainers, he sat
cross-legged on the bare floor of the flat like some kind of emaciated
Buddha.

His skin had already suffered the first onslaught of pubescent acne;
spots clustered on his cheeks, chin and forehead like a virulent rash.
The redness was a marked contrast to the pallor of his flesh. Here and
there hardened crusts of blood had formed, the result of Brown's
insistence on picking the heads from the most troublesome of the
blemishes.

Opposite him, Donna Freeman was glancing through the contents of the
plastic bin bags they had filled during the burglary.
She was the same age as Brown. Dishwater blonde. Eyes sunken into the
sockets. Red rimmed, as if someone had sketched around the orbs with a
blood-stained pencil.