Four Past Midnight - Stephen King [75]
Albert spun the cap off the beer while Nick fished an unbroken glass from the wreckage around the drinks trolley.
'Where's the smoke?' Brian asked.
'Smoke?' Bob asked, puzzled.
'Well, I guess it's not smoke, exactly, but when you open a beer there's usually something that looks like smoke around the mouth of the bottle.'
Albert sniffed, then tipped the beer toward Brian. 'Smell.'
Brian did, and began to grin. He couldn't help it. 'By God, it sure smells like beer, smoke or no smoke.'
Nick held out the glass, and Albert was pleased to see that the Englishman's hand was not quite steady, either. 'Pour it,' he said. 'Hurry up, mate - my sawbones says suspense is bad for the old ticker.' Albert poured the beer and their smiles faded.
The beer was flat. Utterly flat. It simply sat in the whiskey glass Nick had found, looking like a urine sample.
10
'Christ almighty, it's getting dark!'
The people standing at the windows looked around as Rudy Warwick joined them.
'You're supposed to be watching the nut,' Don said.
Rudy gestured impatiently. 'He's out like a light. I think that whack on the head rattled his furniture a little more than we thought at first. What's going on out there? And why is it getting dark so fast?'
'We don't know,' Bethany said. 'It just is. Do you think that weird dude is going into a coma, or something like that?'
'I don't know,' Rudy said. 'But if he is. we won't have to worry about him anymore, will we? Christ, is that sound creepy! It sounds like a bunch of coked-up termites in a balsa-wood glider.' For the first time, Rudy seemed to have forgotten his stomach.
Dinah looked up at Laurel. 'I think we better check on Mr Toomy,' she said. 'I'm worried about him. I bet he's scared.'
'If he's unconscious, Dinah, there isn't anything we can -'
'I don't think he's unconscious,' Dinah said quietly. 'I don't think he's even asleep.'
Laurel looked down at the child thoughtfully for a moment and then took her hand. 'All right,' she said. 'Let's have a look.'
11
The knot Nick Hopewell had tied against Craig's right wrist finally loosened enough for him to pull his hand free. He used it to push down the loop holding his left hand. He got quickly to his feet. A bolt of pain shot through his head, and for a moment he swayed. Flocks of black dots chased across his field of vision and then slowly cleared away. He became aware that the terminal was being swallowed in gloom. Premature night was falling. He could hear the chew-crunch-chew sound of the langoliers much more clearly now, perhaps because his ears had become attuned to them, perhaps because they were closer.
On the far side of the terminal he saw two silhouettes, one tall and one short, break away from the others and start back toward the restaurant. The woman with the bitchy voice and the little blind girl with the ugly, pouty face. He couldn't let them raise the alarm. That would be very bad.
Craig backed away from the bloody patch of carpet where he had been lying, never taking his eyes from the approaching figures. He could not get over how rapidly the light was failing.
There were pots of eating utensils set into a counter to the left of the cash register, but it was all plastic crap, no good to him. Craig ducked around the cash register and saw something better: a butcher knife lying on the counter next to the grill. He took it and crouched behind the cash register to watch them approach. He watched the little girl with a particular anxious interest. The little girl knew a lot ... too much, maybe. The question was, where had she come by her knowledge?
That was a very interesting question indeed.
Wasn't it?
12
Nick looked from Albert to Bob. 'So,' he said. 'The matches work but the lager doesn't.' He turned to set the glass of beer on the counter. 'What does that mea -'
All at once a small mushroom cloud of bubbles burst from nowhere in the bottom of the glass. They rose rapidly, spread, and burst into a thin head at the top. Nick's eyes widened.
'Apparently,' Bob said dryly,