龙腾小说网

第39部分（第2页）

（Buster；　you　better　get　going　or　theyre　going　to　e　back　and　wonder　if　you

were　doing　anything　all　the　while。）

Sure；　get　going。　Because　the　snow　was　ing　and　he　had　to　get　the　damn　hedges

trimmed。　It　was　part　of　the　agreement。　Besides；　they　wouldnt　dare

（Who　wouldnt？　What　wouldnt？　Dare　do　what？）

He　began　to　walk　back　toward　the　hedge…clipper　at　the　foot　of　the　big　kids

slide；　and　the　sound　of　his　feet　crunching　on　the　crushed　stone　seemed

abnormally　loud。　Now　the　flesh　on　his　testicles　had　begun　to　creep　too；　and　his

buttocks　felt　hard　and　heavy；　like　stone。

（Jesus；　what　is　this？）

He　stopped　by　the　hedge…clipper；　but　made　no　move　to　pick　it　up。　Yes；　there

was　something　different。　In　the　topiary。　And　it　was　so　simple；　so　easy　to　see；

that　he　just　wasnt　picking　it　up。　e　on；　he　scolded　himself；　you　just　trimmed

the　fucking　rabbit；　so　whats　the

（thats　it）

His　breath　stopped　in　his　throat。

The　rabbit　was　down　on　all　fours；　cropping　grass。　Its　belly　was　against　the

ground。　But　not　ten　minutes　ago　it　had　been　up　on　its　hind　legs；　of　course　it

had　been；　he　had　trimmed　its　ears　。。。　and　its　belly。

His　eyes　darted　to　the　dog。　When　he　had　e　down　the　path　it　had　been　sitting

up；　as　if　begging　for　a　sweet。　Now　it　was　crouched；　head　tilted；　the　clipped

wedge　of　mouth　seeming　to　snarl　silently。　And　the　lions　—

（oh　no；　baby；　oh　no；　uh…uh；　no　way）

the　lions　were　closer　to　the　path。　The　two　on　his　right　had　subtly　changed

positions；　had　drawn　closer　together。　The　tail　of　the　one　on　the　left　now　almost

jutted　out　over　the　path。　When　he　had　e　past　them　and　through　the　gate；　that

lion　had　been　on　the　right　and　he　was　quite　sure　its　tail　had　been　curled　around

it。

They　were　no　longer　protecting　the　path；　they　were　blocking　it。

Jack　put　his　hand　suddenly　over　his　eyes　and　then　took　it　away。　The　picture

didnt　change。　A　soft　sigh；　too　quiet　to　be　a　groan；　escaped　him。　In　his

drinking　days　he　had　always　been　afraid　of　something　like　this　happening。　But

when　you　were　a　heavy　drinker　you　called　it　the　DTs　—　good　old　Ray　Milland　in

Lost　Weekend；　seeing　the　bugs　ing　out　of　the　walls。

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