"Brian Lumley - Necroscope 15 - The Touch" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

 16 BRIAN LUMLEY
Turning on him, Samuels snapped, "What? Are you fundamentally
deaf or something? Can't you hear what's in there? It's a stressed child. A
child in trouble. And—"
"—And," Phipps at once cut in, his voice shuddering and almost
breaking, "there's a lot more than just a kid in there. But don't arsk me,
'cos I can't rightly explain what it is that I saw. And 'avin' seen it the once,
well that was quite enough, thanks very much. So I'll just stay out 'ere if
you don't mind. But as for openin' 'er up: I should at least be able ter man-
age that for you, yers."
Reaching out, he turned the key in the lock in the silver metal door-
knob, turned the knob, and pushed the door open.
"Wait!" said the senior paramedic a second time. "What do you mean,
you can't explain what's in there? Is it dangerous?"
"Dangerous?" Phipps shook his head. "No, I don't think so. Not any-
more, if it ever was. But 'orrible? Oh, yers."
"Right," said Samuels with a curt nod. "A crime scene. So in we go.
But you two," he spoke to the paramedics, "don't you go touching any-
thing. We may have to call in Scenes of Crime." And he pushed the door
all the way open and stepped through it—into darkness.
The paramedics came close on his heels as the Inspector found the
light switch to one side of the door just inside the room. A ceiling light
flickered into being, but then continued to flicker, while from the corri-
dor Phipps said, "They've been like that for a couple of hours now—the
lights I mean. Most of the rooms is okay, but it's really bad in the corri-
dors and just 'ere. Somethin' must 'ave blown out at the mains. There's a
'lectrician darn in the cellar right now tryin' ter find and fix it . . ." His
voice tailed into silence.
The main room was L-shaped, with the bathroom on the left and the
long leg of the L containing a bed, bedside tables, and a telephone. The
infant, a boy no more than fifteen months old, was sitting on the floor
with his back to the bed sobbing, but quietly now. He'd filled his diaper
and it had leaked onto the floor where crisscross trails told of his wet
wanderings. His eyes were sore from crying, his face pink streaked with
brown. There was a lot more brown in his hair and on his chubby little
body. It looked as if he'd been trying to clean himself up and make him-
self more comfortable, but had only made things worse. At least he didn't
look ill or sickly, just tired, frightened, and very unhappy.
Samuels turned, shot an accusing glare out of the door at Phipps
where he'd backed up against the opposite corridor wall, indicated the
child, and asked, "Why didn't you take him out of here?"
 NECROSCOPE: THE TOUCH 17
But the security man only shook his head. "Didn't want to touch
anyfing. Reckoned it best to leave fings exactly as they was. Figured you
wouldn't be too long gettin' 'ere." And then, with a nod of his head:
"You . . . you'll find it just round the corner there."
"Phew." said the younger paramedic. "Like, if that's just baby shit, well
God bless his poor little arse!"
"I'll see if I can find a woman to see to the kid," Phipps said from the
corridor, and made to go off. But: