Information (tilde.town/~mozz/index) | |
All You Love Will Be Carried Away | |
By Steven King | |
(part 2 of 7) | |
He stood where he was a moment longer, waiting for the wind | |
to drop. It did, and he could see the spark lights again. | |
The farmhouse. And was it possible that behind those lights, | |
some farmer's wife was even now heating up a pot of Cottager | |
Split Pea Soup or perhaps microwaving a Cottager Shepherd's | |
Pie or Chicken Francais? It was. It was as possible as hell. | |
While her husband watched the early news with his shoes off | |
and his sock feet on a hassock, and overhead their son | |
played a video game on his PlayStation and their daughter | |
sat in the tub, chin_deep in fragrant bubbles, her hair tied | |
up with a ribbon, reading"The Golden Compass," by Philip | |
Pullman, or perhaps one of the Harry Potter books, which | |
were favorites of Alfie's daughter, Carlene. All that going | |
on behind the spark lights, some family's universal joint | |
turning smoothly in its socket, but between them and the | |
edge of this parking lot was a mile and a half of flat | |
field, white in the running_away light of a low sky, | |
comatose with the season. Alfie briefly imagined himself | |
walking into that field in his city shoes, his briefcase in | |
one hand and his suitcase in the other, working his way | |
across the frozen furrows, finally arriving, knocking; the | |
door would be opened and he would smell pea soup, that good | |
hearty smell, and hear the KETV (ABC) meteorologist in the | |
other room saying, "But now look at this low_pressure system | |
just coming over the Rockies." | |
And what would Alfie say to the farmer's wife? That he just | |
dropped by for dinner? Would he advise her to save Russian | |
Jews, collect valuable prizes? Would he begin by saying, | |
"Ma'am, according to at least one source I've read recently, | |
all that you love will be carried away?" That would be a | |
good conversation opener, sure to interest the farmer's wife | |
in the wayfaring stranger who had just walked across her | |
husband's east field to knock on her door. And when she | |
invited him to step in, to tell her more, he could open his | |
briefcase and give her a couple of his sample books, | |
tell her that once she discovered the Cottager brand of | |
quick_serve gourmet delicacies she would almost certainly | |
want to move on to the more sophisticated pleasures of Ma | |
Mere. And, by the way, did she have a taste for caviar? Many | |
did. Even in Nebraska. | |
Freezing. Standing here and freezing. | |
He turned from the field and the spark lights at the far end | |
of it and walked to the motel, moving in careful duck steps | |
so he wouldn't go ass over tea kettle. He had done it | |
before, God knew. Whoops_a_daisy in half a hundred motel | |
parking lots. He had done most of it before, actually, and | |
supposed that was at least part of the problem. | |
There was an overhang, so he was able to get out of the | |
snow. There was a Coke machine with a sign saying, "Use | |
Correct Change." There was an ice machine and a Snax machine | |
with candy bars and various kinds of potato chips behind | |
curls of metal like bedsprings. There was no "Use Correct | |
Change" sign on the Snax machine. From the room to the left | |
of the one where he intended to kill himself, Alfie could | |
hear the early news, but it would sound better in that | |
farmhouse over yonder, he was sure of that. The wind boomed. | |
Snow swirled around his city shoes, and then Alfie let | |
himself into his room. The light switch was to the left. He | |
turned it on and shut the door. | |
He knew the room; it was the room of his dreams. It was | |
square. The walls were white. On one was a picture of a | |
small boy in a straw hat, asleep with a fishing pole in his | |
hand. There was a green rug on the floor, a quarter inch of | |
some nubbly synthetic stuff. It was cold in here right now, | |
but when he pushed the Hi Heat button on the control panel | |
of the Climatron beneath the window the place would warm up | |
fast. Would probably become hot. A counter ran the length of | |
one wall. There was a TV on it. On top of the TV was a piece | |
of cardboard with "One_Touch Movies!" printed on it. | |
There were twin double beds, each covered with bright_gold | |
spreads that had been tucked under the pillows and then | |
pulled over them, so the pillows looked like small covered | |
corpses. There was a table between the beds with a Gideon | |
Bible, a TV_channel guide, and a flesh_colored phone on it. | |
Beyond the second bed was the door to the bathroom. When you | |
turned on the light in there, the fan would go on, too. If | |
you wanted the light, you got the fan, too. There was no way | |
around it. The light itself would be fluorescent, with the | |
ghosts of dead flies inside. On the counter beside the sink | |
there would be a hot plate and a Proctor_Silex electric | |
kettle and little packets of instant coffee. There was a | |
smell in here, the mingling of some harsh cleaning fluid and | |
mildew on the shower curtain. Alfie knew it all. He had | |
dreamed it right down to the green rug, but that was no | |
accomplishment, it was an easy dream. He thought about | |
turning on the heater, but that would rattle, too, and, | |
besides, what was the point? | |
All You Love Will Be Carried Away (Part 3 of 7) | |
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