"James Patrick Kelly - Big Guy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly James Patrick)

тАЬHave to,тАЭ said Murph.

The jaws spread wider and wider, like a snake's. Murph walked Big Guy in. Way Out's breath was
warm and minted to cover a faint whiff of eggs. Murph stepped over the gleaming row of incisors onto
the damp, nubbly surface of the tongue. The epithelial cells that lined the inside of Way Out's mouth
shone with a slick, pink light. Murph ducked under the uvula and entered the hall of faces.

They seemed to stretch to a vanishing point. Way Out had sorted them so that only the first couple were
Murph's familiars. To his immediate left, one face morphed from Dead Mike to Plumber to Feelie to Blue
to Negro to Dead Mike again. They all called to him in turn to join their party. тАЬBig Guy, right here, right,
Big Guy, live fast.тАЭ Next to them were Jelly Donut and Handgun, both solo, both happy to see him.
тАЬHey, Big Guy!тАЭ The Log and Cow Girl were together but weren't looking for company.

He ignored them all. The first face to his right was Cat's. She watched him silently for a moment, her
expression unreadable. Then she was replaced by Shiva. тАЬBig Guy,тАЭ he said, without enthusiasm. Shiva
was a pale man with curly red hair and three eyes. He was wearing a necklace of little human skulls.
тАЬShe's been waiting.тАЭ He opened his mouth. Murph hadn't liked Shiva the last time they'd met and had no
reason to like him better now. But he was with Cat. Reluctantly, Murph stepped through.

The corn came up to his chest. They had must have trampled it down before they spread their blanket in
the middle of the vast field. There was a wicker picnic basket next to Cat, who lay on her side, watching
him. Beyond her in the distance he could see the funnels and upper decks of the ship. It rose twelve
stories tall on its foundation, anchored forever in a sea of corn. The sky was a flawless, nightmare blue.
The sun was bright as pain. Way Out was a genius.

тАЬSit.тАЭ Shiva was already naked except for the necklace and a dhoti loincloth.

Murph eyed the blanket doubtfully. There wasn't room, not for Big Guy. He stood at the edge, crouched
low as he could go, grunted, toppled backwards. Corn stalks whipped to the ground under his weight.

тАЬSorry I'm late,тАЭ said Murph. The ground was ridged to the corn rows. It smelled of worms. He wiggled
his ass, flattening a comfortable spot.

тАЬShiva was just telling me he lives in Gardner.тАЭ Cat was wearing a high necked polka-dot dress that
covered her ankles. Her bonnet matched the dress.

тАЬThe town?тАЭ Not something Murph would have admitted.

тАЬ21 Spring Street,тАЭ said Shiva. Murph couldn't tell if he was trying to be rude or if he just didn't
understand the protocols. тАЬIt's a big, green Victorian with a porch and a swing. Been in the family nearly
two hundred years.тАЭ He was much too pushy with personal information, even for Way Out. Next he'd be
giving them his real name. Murph hadn't even told Cat what deck he lived on yet, much less his cabin
number.

тАЬMaybe we should drop by sometime, Cat.тАЭ Murph shot her a who-is-this-pumpkin look.

тАЬThat'd be fine.тАЭ Shiva laughed easily. тАЬI see a lot of people, but hardly any ship folks.тАЭ

Had Cat told him already that they lived on the ship? Murph wondered what other secrets they had
shared.