"McCammon, Robert R. - Stinger" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)
УHow about some lizard eyeballs in your eggs today?Ф Tom asked. He and Jessie had stayed up until well after one in the morning, talking and sharing a bottle of Blue Nun. But heТd always been a quick starter and enjoyed cooking breakfast, while Jessie took a little longer to get her spark plugs going even on the best of days.
УMake mine rare,Ф she answered, and tried seeing again. The early light was already glary, promising another scorcher. The past week had been one ninety-degree day after the next, and the Odessa weatherman on Channel 19 had said today might break the hundred mark. Jessie knew that meant trouble. Animals werenТt acclimated to such heat so soon. Horses would get sluggish and go off their feed, dogs would be surly and snap without cause, and cats would have major spells of claw-happy craziness. Stock animals got unruly too, and bulls were downright dangerous. But it was also rabies season, and her worst fear was that somebodyТs pet would go chasing after an infected jackrabbit or prairie dog, be bitten, and bring rabies back into the community. All the domesticated animals she could think of had already been given their boosters, but there were always a few folks who didnТt bring their pets in for the treatment. It might be a good idea, she decided, to get in the pickup truck today and drive around to some of the small communities near InfernoЧlike Klyman, No Trees, and Notch ForkЧto spread the antirabies gospel.
УСMorning.Ф Tom was standing over her, offering her coffee in a blue clay mug. УThisТll get you started.Ф
She sat up and took the mug. The coffee, as usual whenever Tom made it, was ebony and ominous. The first sip puckered her mouth; the second brooded on her tongue for a while, and the third sent the caffeine charging through her system. She needed it too. SheТd never been a morning person, but as the only veterinarian within a forty-mile radius sheТd learned a long time ago that the ranchers and farmers were up long before the sun first blushed the sky. УSmooth,Ф she managed to say.
УAlways is.Ф Tom smiled slightly, walked over to the window, and pushed aside the blinds. Red fire hit his face and glowed in the lenses of his eyeglasses. He looked east, along Celeste Street toward Republica Road and Preston High SchoolЧУthe Hotbox,Ф he called it, because the air conditioning broke down so often. His smile began to fade.
She knew what he was thinking. TheyТd talked about it last night, and many nights before that one. The Blue Nun eased, but it did not heal.
УCome here,Ф she said, and motioned him to the bed.
УBaconТll get cold,Ф he answered. His accent was the unhurried drawl of east Texas, whereas JessieТs was west TexasТs gritty twang.
УLet it freeze.Ф
Tom turned away from the window, could feel the hot stripes of sun across his bare back and shoulders. He wore his faded and comfortable khaki trousers, but he hadnТt yet pulled on his socks and shoes. He passed under the bedroomТs lazily revolving ceiling fan, and Jessie leaned over in her pale blue, oversized shirt and patted the edge of the bed. When he sat down, she began massaging his shoulders with her strong brown hands. Already his muscles were as tight as piano wire.
УItТs going to work out,Ф she told him, her voice calm and deliberate. УThis isnТt the end of the world.Ф
He nodded, said nothing. The nod wasnТt very convincing. Tom Hammond was thirty-seven years old, stood a bit over six feet, was slim and in pretty good shape except for a little potbelly that resisted sit-ups and jogging. His light brown hair was receding to show what Jessie called a Уnoble forehead,Ф and his tortoiseshell-framed glasses gave him the look of an intelligent if slightly dismayed schoolteacher. Which was exactly what he was: Tom had been a social studies teacher at Preston High for eleven years. And now, with the impending death of Inferno, that was coming to an end. Eleven years of the Hotbox. Eleven years of watching the faces change. Eleven years, and still he hadnТt defeated his worst enemy. It was still there, and it would always be there, and every day for eleven years heТd seen it working against him.
УYouТve done everything you could,Ф Jessie said. УYou know you have.Ф
УMaybe. Maybe not.Ф One corner of his mouth angled downward in a bitter smile, and his eyes were pinched with frustration. A week from tomorrow, when school closed, he and the other teachers would have no job. His rщsumщs had brought in only one offer from the state of TexasЧa field job, running literacy exams on immigrants who followed the melon crops. Still, he knew that most of the other teachers hadnТt landed jobs yet either, but that didnТt make the pill any sweeter going down. HeТd gotten a nice letter stamped with the state seal of Texas that told him the education budget had been cut for the second year in a row and at present there was a freeze on the hiring of teachers. Of course, since heТd been in the system so long, his name would be put on the waiting list of applicants, thank you and keep this letter for your files. It was the same letter many of his colleagues had received, and the only file it went into was circular.
But he knew that, eventually, another position would come his way. Running the exams on the migrant workers wouldnТt be so bad, really, but it would require a lot of time on the road. What had chewed at him day and night for the past year was the memory of all the students whoТd passed through his social studies classЧhundreds of them, from red-haired American sons to copper-skinned Mexicans to Apache kids with eyes like bullet holes. Hundreds of them: doomed freight, passing through the badlands on tracks already warped. HeТd checked; over an eleven-year period with a senior class averaging about seventy to eighty kids, only three hundred and six of them had enrolled as freshmen in either a state or technical college. The rest had just drifted away or set roots in Inferno to work at the mine, drink their wages, and raise a houseful of babies who would probably repeat the pattern. Only now there was no mine, and the pull of drugs and crime in the big cities was stronger. It was stronger, as well, right here in Inferno. And for eleven years heТd seen the faces come and go: boys with knife scars and tattoos and forced laughter, girls with scared eyes and gnawed fingernails and the secret twitches of babies already growing in their bellies.
Eleven years, and tomorrow was his final day. After the senior class walked out at last period, it would be over. And what haunted him, day after day, was the realization that he could recall maybe fifteen kids whoТd escaped the Great Fried Empty. That was what they called the desert between Inferno and the Mexican border, but Tom knew it was a state of mind too. The Great Fried Empty could suck the brains out of a kidТs skull and replace it with dope smoke, could burn out the ambition and dry up the hope, and what almost killed Tom was the fact that heТd fought it for eleven years but the Great Fried Empty had always been winning.
Jessie kept massaging, but TomТs muscles had tensed. She knew what must be going through his mind. It was the same thing that had slowly burned his spirit to a cinder.
Tom stared at the bars of fire on the wall. УI wish I had three more months. Just three.Ф He had a sudden, startling image of the day he and Jessie had graduated together from the University of Texas, walking out into a flood of sunlight and ready to take on the world. It seemed like a hundred years ago. HeТd been thinking a lot about Roberto Perez lately, could not get the boyТs face out of his mind, and he knew why. УRoberto Perez,Ф he said. УDo you remember me talking about him?Ф
УI think so.Ф
УHe was in my senior class six years ago. He lived in Bordertown, and his grades werenТt very high, but he asked questions. He wanted to know. But he held himself back from doing too well on tests, because that wouldnТt be cool.Ф His bitter smile surfaced again. УThe day he graduated, Mack Cade was waiting for him. I saw him get into CadeТs Mercedes. They drove off. RobertoТs brother told me later that Cade got the boy a job up in Houston. Good money, but it wasnТt exactly clear what the job was. Then one day RobertoТs brother came to me and said I ought to know: Roberto had been killed in a Houston motel. Cocaine deal went bad. He got both barrels of a shotgun in his stomach. But the Perez family didnТt blame Cade. Oh, no. Roberto sent home a lot of money. Cade gave Mr. Perez a new Buick. Sometimes I drive by the Perez house after school; the BuickТs up on concrete blocks in the front yard.Ф
He stood up abruptly, went to the window, and pulled the blinds aside again. He could feel the heat out there, gathering power and shimmering off the sand and concrete. УThere are two boys in my last-period class who remind me of Perez. Neither one of them ever made higher than a C-minus on a test, but I see it in their faces. They listen; something sinks in. But they both do just enough to get by, and no more. You probably know their names: Lockett and Jurado.Ф He glanced at her.
Jessie had heard Tom mention the names before, and she nodded.
УNeither of them took the college entrance exams,Ф Tom continued. УJurado laughed in my face when I suggested it. Lockett looked at me like I fell out of a dogТs ass. But their last day is tomorrow, and theyТll graduate a week from Sunday, and thatТll be it. CadeТll be waiting. I know it.Ф
УYouТve done what you could,Ф Jessie said. УNow itТs up to them.Ф
She tried for a smile, but wasnТt very successful. УYou take care of your beasts, IТll take care of mine.Ф
УYeah.Ф He summoned up a wan smile. He walked to the bed, cupped his hand to the back of JessieТs head, his fingers disappearing into her dark brown, short-cut hair, and kissed her forehead. УI love you, doc.Ф He let his head rest against hers. УThanks for listening to me.Ф
УI love you,Ф she answered, and put her arms around him. They stayed that way for a minute, until Jessie said, УLizard eyeballs?Ф
УYep!Ф He straightened up. His face was more relaxed now, but his eyes were still troubled and Jessie knew that, however good a teacher he was, Tom thought of himself as a failure. УI guess theyТre good and cold by now. Come and get Тem!Ф
Jessie got out of bed and followed her husband through the short hallway into the kitchen. In this room also, a ceiling fan was turning, and Tom had pulled up the blinds on the west-facing windows. The light in that direction was still tinged with violet, but the sky was turning bright blue over Rocking Chair Ridge. Tom had already fixed all four of the breakfast platesЧeach with bacon, scrambled eggs (no lizard eyeballs today), and toastЧand they were waiting on the little circular table in the corner. УLetТs go, sleepyheads!Ф Tom called toward the kidsТ rooms, and Ray answered with an unenthusiastic grunt.
Jessie went to the refrigerator and liberally doused milk into her muscular coffee while Tom switched on the radio to catch the six-thirty news from KOAX in Fort Stockton. Stevie bounded into the kitchen. УItТs horsie day, Mama!Ф she said. УWe get to go see Sweetpea!Ф
УWe sure do.Ф It amazed her that anybody could be so full of energy in the morning, even a six-year-old child. Jessie poured a glass of orange juice for Stevie while the little girl, clad in her University of Texas nightshirt, climbed into her chair. She sat perched on the edge, swinging her legs and chewing at a piece of toast. УHowТd you sleep?Ф
УGood. Can I ride Sweetpea today?Ф
УMaybe. WeТll see what Mr. Lucas has to say.Ф Jessie was scheduled to drive out to the Lucas place, about six miles west of Inferno, and give their golden palomino Sweetpea a thorough checkup this morning. Sweetpea was a gentle horse that Tyler Lucas and his wife Bess had raised from a colt, and Jessie knew how much Stevie looked forward to their trip.
УEat your breakfast, cowgirl,Ф Tom said. УGotta be strong to stay on a bronco.Ф
They heard the television snap on in the front room and the channels being clicked around. Rock music pounded through the speaker on MTV. In back of the house was a satellite dish that picked up about three hundred channels, bringing all parts of the world through the air to Inferno. УNo TV!Ф Tom called, jarred by the noise. УCome on to breakfast!Ф
УJust one minute!Ф Ray pleaded, as he always did. He was a TV addict, particularly drawn to the scantily clad models in the videos on MTV.
УNow!Ф
The television set was clicked off, and Ray Hammond walked into the kitchen. He was fourteen years old, beanpole thin and gawkyЧlooks just like me when I was that age, Tom thoughtЧand wore eyeglasses that slightly magnified his eyes: not much, but enough to earn him the nickname of X Ray from the kids at school. He yearned for contacts and a build like Arnold Schwarzenegger; the first had been promised to him when he turned sixteen, and the second was a fever dream that no number of push-ups could accomplish. His hair was light brown, cropped close except for a few orange-dyed spikes on top that neither his father nor mother could talk him out of, and he was the proud possessor of a wardrobe of paisley-patterned shirts and tie-dyed jeans that made Tom and Jessie think the sixties had come back full vengeful circle. Right now, though, he wore only bright red pajama bottoms, his chest sunken and sallow.
УСMorning, alien,Ф Jessie said.
УСMorning, Сlien,Ф Stevie parroted.
УHi.Ф Ray plopped down in a chair and yawned hugely. УJuice.Ф He held out a hand.
УPlease and thank you.Ф Jessie poured him a glass, gave it to him, and watched as he put it down the awesome hatch. For a boy who only weighed around a hundred and fifteen pounds in a soaking wet suit, he could eat and drink faster than a horde of hungry Cowboy linebackers. He began digging into his eggs and bacon.
There was purpose in RayТs all-out attack on his plate. HeТd had a dream about Belinda Sonyers, the blond fox who sat on the next row in his freshman English class, and the details were still percolating. If he got a hard-on here at the table with his folks, he would be in danger of serious embarrassment; so he concentrated on the food, which seemed the second-best thing to sex. Not that he knew, of course. The way his zits were popping up, he could forget about girls for the next thousand years. He stuffed his mouth full of toast.
УWhereТs the fire?Ф Tom asked.
Ray almost gagged, but he got the toast down and attacked the eggs because the gauzy porno dream was making his pencil twitch again. After a week from tomorrow, though, he could forget about Belinda Sonyers and all the other foxes who paraded down the halls of Preston High; the school would be shut down, the doors locked, and the dreams would be just so much red-hot dust. But at least it would be summer, and that was okay too. Still, with the whole town closing down, summer was going to be about as much fun as cleaning out the attic.
Jessie and Tom sat down to breakfast, and Ray got his thoughts under rein again. Stevie, the red highlights in her auburn hair shining in the sunlight, ate her food knowing that cowgirls did have to be strong to ride broncosЧbut Sweetpea was a nice horse, who wouldnТt dream of bucking and throwing her. Jessie glanced at the clock on the wallЧone of those goofy plastic things shaped like a catТs head, with eyeballs that ticked back and forth to mark the passing seconds; it was quarter to seven, and she knew Tyler Lucas was an early riser and would already be waiting for her to show up. Of course she didnТt expect to find anything wrong with Sweetpea, but the horse was getting on in years and the Lucases treated it like a household pet.
After breakfast, as Tom and Ray cleared away the plates, Jessie helped Stevie get dressed in a pair of jeans and a white cotton shirt with the Jetsons pictured on its front. Then she returned to her own bedroom and pulled off her nightshirt, exposing the tight, lithe body of a woman who enjoyed working outdoors; she had a УTexas tanФЧarms brown to the shoulders, a deeply bronzed face, and the rest of her body almost ivory in contrast. She heard the TV click on; Ray was grabbing some more of the tube before he and his father left for schoolЧbut that was all right, because Ray was an avid reader as well and his brain pulled in information like a sponge. And the way he wore his hair and his taste in clothes were no causes for alarm, either, he was a good boy, a lot shier than he let on, and he was simply doing what he could to get along with his peers. She knew about his nickname, and she remembered that it was sometimes tough to be young.
The harsh desert sun had added lines to JessieТs face, but she possessed a strong, natural beauty that required no aid from jars and tubes. Anyway, she knew, vets werenТt expected to win beauty pageants. They were expected to be available at all hours and to work damned hard, and Jessie did not disappoint. Her hands were brown and sturdy, and the things sheТd had to grab with them during her thirteen years as a veterinarian wouldТve made most women swoon. Gelding a vicious stallion, delivering a stillborn calf jammed in a cowТs birth canal, removing a nail from the trachea of a five-hundred-pound prize boarЧall those were operations sheТd performed successfully, as well as hundreds of other tasks ranging from treating a canaryТs injured beak to operating on a DobermanТs infected jaw. But she was up to the task; working with animals was all sheТd ever wanted to do, even as a child when she used to bring home every stray dog and cat off the streets of her neighborhood in Fort Worth. SheТd always been a tomboy, and growing up with three brothers had taught her to roll with the punchesЧbut she gave as good as she got too, and she could vividly recall knocking her oldest brotherТs front tooth out with a football when she was nine years old. He laughed about it now, whenever they spoke on the phone, and he kidded her that the ball mightТve sailed to the Gulf if his mouth hadnТt been in the way.
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