Randy White - The Man Who Ivented Florida
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- Название:The Man Who Ivented Florida
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The Man Who Ivented Florida: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация
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But now one of the legends had come true: the story of the living water-a spring once sought by the Indian sick to heal themselves. Did he really believe that? Yes… no!… maybe.
Tuck was a con man; about that, there was no doubt. So why, Joseph wondered, did his own mind feel so much clearer after drinking the water? Why did his body feel so much better? He stood in the shadows, leaning against the tree, considering. Before him were expensive ranch-style homes, concrete and stucco, with neat lawns and palm trees potted on little cement islands. In the eastern sky, clouds throbbed with eerie light, as if a bright wind was trapped within, probing for escape. Ghostly looking shapes up there in the night sky, so strange and unfamiliar that a disconcerting sense of doom flitted through Joseph's mind… which was when he remembered the dream he'd had.
You telling me to go ahead and die, Grandpa!
Nope. Tellin' you to get in the damn car. You already dead.
It all came back to him, the whole strange dream. Not a happy realization, either, because Joseph knew the dream for what it was.
Damn death dreams. Always come when a man's got other stuff to worry about.
Yes, no doubt about it. He had had a death dream.
"Some joke, Grandpa!"
Joseph sagged against the tree. He was going to die. Dreams like that didn't beat around the bush. Came right out and said what they meant. Hey… wait a minute. Joseph straightened as a new thought entered his head. In his mind, he tallied the feelings he had experienced in the last hour: unexpected freedom, absence of pain, soaring intoxication. Plus, that orderly had looked right at him without seeing him, as if he were invisible. Same with the fat nurse. Didn't even notice him.
Maybe I'm already dead!
"Oh shit," Joseph whispered.
Maybe he hadn't left the rest home, after all. Maybe this was all just a hallucination. Maybe, just maybe, he really had died and now his spirit was soaring.
Joseph bounced up and down on the ground a little. Don't feel like I'm soaring.
He thought about one of the few movies he had ever seen. In that film, a man got hit by a car. When he awoke, he was standing in line to board a train. His name was on the passenger list, but the man couldn't remember why he was there. But he found out. That man was on his way to heaven! Then another thought struck Joseph: If a train took you to heaven, maybe you had to walk to hell.
Quickly, he pinched himself. Ouch. It hurt, but was that proof?
No. Hadn't the man in that movie kicked over a trash can and hurt his foot? Maybe they let you keep all your physical feelings- except the sinful ones, of course.
There, that was an idea.
Joseph made a cursory check through his brain for dirty thoughts.
Nope, they were still there.
That did it; told him all he needed to know. He wasn't bound for heaven; he was on a one-way trip to hell.
Just about exactly what you deserve, you dirty man…
The back door of the house near which he stood opened, startling him. He heard a voice say, "You stay in the yard now, Dracula!"
Joseph stiffened. "Jesus Christ," he whispered, "Dracula?"
But it wasn't the one he had imagined. This Dracula was a big black dog with pointed ears and skinny hips. It loped across the yard, then froze when it sensed Joseph.
This will be a good test. If the dog barks, I'm alive. If it doesn't… well, I've got problems.
Suddenly, the dog gave a low growl and charged right at him. Joseph grinned-he must still be alive, because that mean dog wanted to bite him! But then the animal banked sharply to the right and disappeared, howling, into the shrubbery. Joseph was thrown into such an instant state of emotional turmoil that he didn't even notice the cat streaking off ahead of the dog.
"Can it be I'm really dead?" Joseph wailed-out loud, for he was certain that no one could hear him. "Am I really a goddamn ghost?"
Then he heard a train whistle from the far distance. "Shit-now I've gone and missed the train to boot!"
He felt wretched. He remembered all the things he had left undone in his life. He punished himself with myriad regrets and accused himself of a thousand stupidities. He groaned and moaned bitterly until the door of the house flew open again and a man stepped out. "Get outta this yard, you damn cat!" Then the man at the door watched in shock as a huge figure dressed in a cowboy hat and skeleton costume went moping across to the next lot, then out of sight.
But soon Joseph Egret, who in his entire life had never allowed regrets to linger, began to recover from the shock of being dead. If he were a ghost, his new form might offer certain opportunities that his old living form had not. He studied the possibilities as he walked past more nice houses. He could steal money most probably. Take from the rich and give to his friends. That would be nice. And he might make a ghostly visit to the women's shower room at the local college. He had always dreamed of a chance to do that. Maybe being a ghost wouldn't be so bad, after all. He'd become a phantom Robin Hood-with hobbies.
By now, Joseph was feeling better. Death would have its advantages-if he was left to his own devices. He didn't want heaven,- he just wanted to be left alone. He would visit his old friends and scare the hell out of them. And no adult better harm a child while he was around! Joseph grinned maliciously. Those fat nurses back at the rest home better be on their toes the next time they reached for a tampon. As for Tucker Gatrell's claims that he had found the living water… well, that just made no sense. But then, Tucker rarely did make sense.
Joseph was on what seemed to be a vast rolling lawn now. Houses surrounded him. He walked up a hill and came to a patch of soft grass with a flag in the middle: Thus he knew he was on a golf course. Joseph had never been on a golf course before. It smelled good. Down the rolling fairway, beyond the tar-slick pond, he could see the clubhouse. It was lighted as if for a party. People mingled outside beneath Japanese lanterns and the swimming pool was Jell-O green. Joseph remembered that Marjorie had said something about a bake sale at the country club. That had been days ago, but maybe they had some food left over. Joseph loved rhubarb pie and he was fond of peach cobbler. He decided to have a look.
As he got nearer, he could smell something cooking on a grill: steaks. Joseph liked steak even better than cobbler. He peeked through a bush and saw a chubby man in a chief's apron turning slabs of meat in a long row. The smell of the meat made Joseph's stomach growl, and he thought, If I'm a ghost, then I'm a hungry goddamn ghost. And if I'm not a ghost, I'll swipe a couple of them steaks, anyway.
Joseph kept a high copse between himself and the party. He watched the people laughing, talking, carrying drinks around. People with money, he could tell that by their clothes. People who knew one another but who seemed tense about something, nervous. Joseph could sense that, too. Then some of the people moved, clearing his view, and he could see why. Beyond the pool, a man and a woman were arguing. The man was tall but slumped, with gray hair. He had a drink glass in his hand and he was talking loudly, slurring his words. Saying mean things.
I'll be damned-
The woman was Marjorie.
Joseph watched this outrage for a time. Marjorie tried to walk away from the man, but he caught her arm and jerked her back. She began to cry, covering her face with her hands. The man pulled her hands apart, then hurried after her as she ran toward the clubhouse. She got to the clubhouse first, and the man stopped short, furious. The door that swung closed behind her read LADIES' LOCKER ROOM.
Joseph did not hesitate. If ever there were a job for a phantom, this was it. That the partygoers did not seem to notice as he sauntered toward the dressing room reassured Joseph. And when the man who had been harassing Marjorie let him pass through the door without question, he felt positively bold.
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