Misery (51 page)

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Authors: Stephen King

Tags: #Fiction

BOOK: Misery
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     Ian groan
e
d hoars
e
ly, and H
e
z
e
kiah gripp
e
d his arm. G
e
offr
e
y m
e
r
e
ly
t
igh
te
n
e
d his alr
e
ady hys
te
rically
t
igh
t
hold on hims
e
lf. Af
te
r all of
t
his, could God r
e
ally b
e
cru
e
l
e
nough
t
o l
et
h
e
r di
e
? Onc
e
h
e
would hav
e
d
e
ni
e
d such a possibili
t
y confid
e
n
t
ly, and wi
t
h humor ra
t
h
e
r
t
han indigna
t
ion. Th
e
, id
e
a
t
ha
t
God could b
e
cru
e
l would in
t
hos
e
days hav
e
s
t
ruck him as absurd.
     Bu
t
his id
e
as abou
t
God -- lik
e
his id
e
as abou
t
so many
t
hings, had chang
e
d. Th
e
y had chang
e
d in Africa. In Africa h
e
had discov
e
r
e
d
t
ha
t t
h
e
r
e
was no
t
jus
t
on
e
God bu
t
many, and som
e
w
e
r
e
mor
e t
han cru
e
l --
t
h
e
y w
e
r
e
insan
e
, and
t
ha
t
chang
e
d all. Cru
e
l
t
y, af
te
r all, was und
e
rs
t
andabl
e
. Wi
t
h insani
t
y, how
e
v
e
r,
t
h
e
r
e
was no arguing.
     Th
e
s
e
wr
et
ch
e
d musings w
e
r
e
in
te
rrup
te
d by a harsh, half-sup
e
rs
t
i
t
ious gasp from H
e
z
e
kiah.
"Mis
t
' Boss Ian! Mis
t
' Boss G
e
offr
e
y! Look! Sh
e e
y
e
s Look sh
e e
y
e
s!"
     Mis
e
ry's
e
y
e
s,
t
ha
t
gorg
e
ously d
e
lica
te
shad
e
of cornflow
e
r blu
e
, had flu
tte
r
e
d op
e
n. Th
e
y pass
e
d from Ian
t
o G
e
offr
e
y and
t
h
e
n back
t
o Ian again. For a mom
e
n
t
G
e
offr
e
y saw only puzzl
e
m
e
n
t
in
t
hos
e e
y
e
s . . . and
t
h
e
n r
e
cogni
t
ion dawn
e
d in
t
h
e
m, and h
e
f
e
l
t
gladn
e
ss roar
t
hrough his soul.
     "Wh
e
r
e
am I?" sh
e
ask
e
d, yawning and s
t
r
et
ching. "Ian -- G
e
offr
e
y -- ar
e
w
e
a
t
s
e
a? Why am I so hungry?"
Laughing, crying, Ian b
e
n
t
and hugg
e
d h
e
r, sp
e
aking h
e
r nam
e
ov
e
r and ov
e
r
again.
B
e
wild
e
r
e
d bu
t
pl
e
as
e
d, sh
e
hugg
e
d him back -- and b
e
caus
e
h
e
kn
e
w sh
e
was all righ
t
, G
e
offr
e
y found h
e
could abid
e t
h
e
ir lov
e
, now and for
e
v
e
r. H
e
would liv
e
alon
e
, could liv
e
alon
e
, in p
e
rf
e
c
t
p
e
ac
e
.
     P
e
rhaps
t
h
e
gods w
e
r
e
no
t
insan
e
af
te
r all . . . a
t
l
e
as
t
, no
t
all of
t
h
e
m.
H
e t
ouch
e
d H
e
z
e
kiah on
t
h
e
should
e
r. "I
t
hink w
e
should l
e
av
e t
h
e
m alon
e
,
old man, don' you?"

      "I gu
e
ss
t
ha
t
b
e
righ
t
, Mis
t
' Boos G
e
offr
e
y," H
e
z
e
kiah said. H
e
grinn
e
d wid
e
ly, flashing all s
e
v
e
n of his gold
teet
h.
G
e
offr
e
y s
t
ol
e
on
e
las
t
look a
t
h
e
r, and for jus
t
a mom
e
n
t t
hos
e
cornflow
e
r
e
y
e
s flash
e
d his way, warming him, filling him. Fulfilling him.
I lov
e
you, my darling, h
e t
hough
t
. Do you h
e
ar m
e
?

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