"Anthony Neil Smith - A Good Summer Job" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Anthony Neil)

"Great," Walt said as he looked around. They couldn't see the nearest house from there. Trees. A worn path, probably used by kids who came here to play. Ray thought, That's who will find me, too.

Walt reached over, turned off the ignition and took the keys. "You did fine. I could barely tell how scared you were, but I knew. When I was a boy and my parents told me to be good or I'd go to Hell, I watched how they lived and wondered what good was. First time I drank a beer, I waited for something bad to happen. Same with the first time I stole and smoked grass and beat a guy to a bloody mess. And the first time I shot up, I prayed for God to stop me, or make me feel guilty, anything. But nothing ever happened. After that, selling dope to kids was nothing."

He jingled the keys in his fingers while he spoke. Ray reached for the door handle slowly, but Walt said, "Stay put," and got out on his own side, came around to Ray's door and flung it open. He grabbed Ray's shirt and dragged him out.

There was an old drink cooler with the glass busted out of the front against the back wall. Walt pushed Ray against the side of it face first so he couldn't see anything. He was crying and hated himself for it, tried to suck it in. His teeth chattered like he was freezing.

"I'm gonna slip my arm around your neck, and it'll be a snap. That's all."

"Please, don't kill me."

"Stop it," Walt said, mouth close to Ray's ear, whispering, "I don't like that begging stuff. Don't make it worse."

Ray heard another car drive up and stop. A car door opened and a man's voice said, "Let go of the kid, Walt.Ф

The arm around Ray's neck loosened its grip, slid off and then away. He turned and saw the brown Chrysler angled behind the minivan, a brown-haired man in uniform aiming a gun at Walt.

Walt said, "Now you show up?"

"Didn't I say wait until I pulled the van over?" The man said.

"I couldn't wait that long. Lying back there was creepy."

Ray thought this must be the guard who helped Walt get out. The man brought the gun down, and Walt sat on the dirt.

"You were going to break his neck?" The guard said.

Walt shrugged. "Needed the clothes."

"But you didn't have to paw him like that, asshole." The guard waved the gun towards Ray and said, "Get naked. Take the clothes off."

"You don't have to kill me anymore. Just let me go now, it'll be cool. You don't have spare pants?" Ray said.

The gun arm straightened, had a hard aim on Ray. "Take them off."

Ray stripped off his shirt, undershirt, then his deck shoes, socks, and jeans, kicked them towards Walt.

"Underwear, too."

He slipped his briefs off and stood with his arms crossed. The guard shot him in the head and chest. Ray dropped to the ground, twitched, rustled some leaves, then lay still and died.

Walt was halfway changed into Ray's clothes. "That's a mess."

"Help me get him into the van," the guard said. He was sorry Ray had to die, but he couldn't have any witnesses, since it was Walt he wanted to kill. Wanted to kill Walt like the son of a bitch had killed his niece. First a kidnapping, which was about five minutes away, then a rape, for which the guard had the perfect steel pole at the destination, and finally the throat slicing, but the guard had other places he wanted to cut before he got that far.

Walt finished dressing, came over and grabbed Ray's feet. They lifted him into the back on the stretcher.

"Keys?" The guard said.