"Kathleen Ann Goonan - The Bridge" - читать интересную книгу автора (Goose Mother)

“Out.” I unlocked the door with deliberate slowness.

She followed me inside. “Well? Do you have the copies?”

“No. I wish that I could offer you a drink, but—”

She shouted, “All I need you for is a simple thing. A very simple thing!
You are astoundingly incompetent. You’re ... you’re fired!”

Then she rushed out the door, crying.

I waited until she was safely into the elevator, then took the stairs.

She hurried down the wet, gray street, bright with evening lights and
falling snow.
 She did not look back once. As before, she did not pause when she
reached Key Bridge. She wrapped her cloak more closely to herself as she
walked, head down as if she were thinking hard, into the foggy grayness of
what was once Georgetown.

I pulled my hat brim low. I looked around.

But this part of the Virginia side of the bridge, Rosslyn, was deserted.
I took a deep breath, then followed Julie Quick across the bridge. The river
roared beneath me. Ice, white in the glare of lights from the Virginia side,
fringed gigantic rocks below. I was between two worlds, vulnerable.

And terrifically inclined to simply jump off the bridge and be borne
away into the past forever. I forced myself to take one step after the other,
holding tight to the railing, and not to keep from falling. I realized that this
was why I had avoided the bridge, high places, owning a vehicle that I could
drive into a tree.

****

The change started in the hand with which I gripped the cold railing of
the bridge. I could hear nothing but the surge of the river beneath, a sweet,
fresh roar. I breathed in the damp fog, searched in vain for any sign of life
ahead.

It was as if my hand were asleep, then sharp, unbearable prickles
infused my entire body.

I think that there was a moment of complete darkness before I was
changed over.

****

I clung to the railing, dizzy. I took a few breaths of new air. I was