The Racer. Erick Poladov

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      That evening Father Benetti stayed at Bernard Hughes’s house. It was common practice for him to occasionally visit homes where a family had suffered a loss. And in every home Leonardo Benetti became a welcome guest, especially in such difficult days. Martha topped up the tea every time the cup was empty, as bartenders do with alcohol, so that a client does not slow down. She didn’t want the priest to leave. His presence softened the mental pain and Father Benetti understood this, but he also could not sit endlessly.

      The next morning, a funeral ceremony for Gloria Nelson was to be held and it was necessary to get some sleep, although such a series of unnatural deaths plunged the priest into the blues, which resulted in insomnia. At the same time, the craving for sleep arose unexpectedly and several times a day. Against this background, the padre sharply increased the dose of coffee he consumed, which he now drank every five to six hours. And all of this in total was already beginning to affect him.

      Before leaving the Hughes family home, he asked for a cup of coffee when he felt sleepy again. It is possible that thanks to this, the priest noticed in time a boy who had jumped out onto the road, waving his arms above his head and shouting something. The figure of a teenager suddenly appeared in front of the car’s headlights and the padre managed to brake. He jumped out of the car in a hurry and didn’t even have time to utter a sound when the boy began to shout through his ragged breath:

      – Fa… Father Benetti! Help!

      – What? What’s happened?

      – Th… There… – Gordon was breathing deeply and couldn’t really say anything coherent. He simply pointed his finger towards the park and called for the priest. Father Benetti put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said:

      – Let’s go to.

      From Gordon’s appearance, he understood that it was easier to follow him than to wait until he calmed down and the ability to formulate thoughts returned to him.

      Two minutes later they found themselves on the playground, where Quentin was squatting, hidden behind a tree, looking fearfully out of the corner of his eye towards the beam carousel. Gordon never managed to bring him to his senses enough to force him to go with him. Father Benetti came up to him, sat down and, placing one hand on Quentin’s shoulder, said:

      – Look at me. Hey. Can you hear me?

      – Father Benetti – Gordon said twitchingly, taking the priest by the hand. – It’s there. Come on.

      Gordon led the priest through the darkness, which was thickening literally every minute and it was already possible to navigate only by faintly visible dimensions. Gordon felt the frame of the swing with his hand and said:

      – Here. She is here.

      Father Benetti took a lighter from his pocket, which he always kept with him in case he needed to light a candle, and lit it in front of him. The corpse of Ursula Minton appeared before him. She was lying on her back between the handrails, and her legs were hanging from the centrifuge. Her braided hair fanned out around her head, which was tilted to the right side. Her skin color still retained a slight shade of pink, but her body had already cooled down. The priest put his hand to his lips, which began to tremble. This picture threw him off balance as quickly as it did the two teenagers.

      A minute later, Father Benetti pulled himself together, took a handful of coins from his pocket, handed Gordon a few pieces and said:

      – Run, call the sheriff.

      – I’m quick – as if Gordon had snapped and ran at full speed towards the payphone.

      Fourteen and a half minutes later, the squeal СКАЧАТЬ