"Steven Gould - Jumper" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

Jesus! I flinched. Then, almost without thought, I jumped back to the Stanville Library.

My knees felt weak. I sat, quickly, on the floor and shook for over a minute.

What was the matter with me? It was just an alarm, some sort of motion detector. I didn't have
this reaction when the two thugs in Washington Square accosted me.

I calmed down. That hadn't been so unexpected, so abrupt. I took several deep breaths. I could
probably have stayed there, transferred several VCRs back to my hotel room, before the police
showed up.

What would I do with them? I wouldn't know who to sell them to, not without getting
ripped off or busted. The very thought of dealing with the kind of people who bought stolen goods
made my skin crawl. And what about the store owner? Wouldn't he be hurt? Or would insurance
cover it? I started feeling guilty just picturing it.

Another thought set my heart to beating harder and faster. Maybe that flash was for photos?
Maybe they have closed-circuit TV cameras set up?

I stood up and started pacing across the library, breathing faster, almost gasping.

"Stop it!" I finally said to myself, my voice loud in the quiet building. How the hell are they
going to catch you, even if they had your fingerprints, which they don't? If they did catch you,
what jail would hold you? Hell, no merchandise was stolen, no locks forced, no windows
broken. Who's going to believe there was someone in the store, much less press charges?

Suddenly, like a weight descending on my shoulders, I was exhausted, weaving on my feet. My
head began to ache again, and I wanted to sleep.

I jumped to the hotel room and kicked off my shoes. The room was chilly, the radiator barely
warm. I looked at the thin sheets on the bed. Inadequate. I thought about the man in Washington
Square Park. Is he warm enough?

I jumped into the dark interior of my room in my father's house, scooped up the quilt from the
bed, and jumped back to the hotel room.

Then I slept.



It was midday when noise from the street, a horn I think, woke me. I pulled the quilt higher and
looked at the cheap hotel room.

It was Wednesday, so I thought my dad should be at the office. I stood up, stretched, and
jumped to the bathroom in the house. I listened carefully, then peered around the corner. Nobody. I
jumped to the kitchen and looked out at the driveway. His car wasn't there. I used the bathroom,
then, and had breakfast.

I can't live off my father forever. The thought made my stomach hurt. What was I going to do