"Richard Matheson - I Am Legend" - читать интересную книгу автора (Matheson Richard)

read a whole page without pause. He read about blood cells being forced
through membranes, about pale lymph carrying the wastes through tubes
blocked by lymph nodes, about lymphocytes and phago-cytic cells.

“...to empty, in the left shoulder region, near the thorax, into a large
vein of the blood circulating system.”

‘The book shut with a thud.

Why didn’t they leave him alone? Did they think they could all have him?
Were they so stupid they thought that? Why did they keep coming every
night? After five months, you’d think they’d give up and try elsewhere.

He went over to the bar and made himself another drink. As he turned back
to his chair he heard stones rattling down across the roof and landing with
thuds in the shrubbery beside the house. Above the noises, he heard Ben
Cortman shout as he always shouted.

“Come out, Neville!”

Someday I’ll get that bastard, he thought as he took a big swallow of the
bitter drink. Someday I’ll knock a stake right through his goddamn chest.
I’ll make one a foot long for him, a special one with ribbons on it, the
bastard.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d soundproof the house. His fingers drew into
white-knuckled fists. He couldn’t stand thinking about those women. If he
didn’t hear them, maybe he wouldn’t think about them. Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

The music ended and he took a stack of records off the turntable and slid
them back into their cardboard envelopes. Now he could hear them even more
clearly outside. He reached for the first new record he could get and put
it on the turntable and twisted the volume up to its highest point.

“The Year of the Plague,” by Roger Leie, filled his ears. Violins scraped
and whined, tympani thudded like the beats of a dying heart, flutes played
weird, atonal melodies.

With a stiffening of rage, he wrenched up the record and snapped it over


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his right knee. He’d meant to break it long ago. He walked on rigid legs to
the kitchen and flung the pieces into the trash box. Then he stood in the
dark kitchen, eyes tightly shut, teeth clenched, hands damped over his
ears. Leave me alone,, leave me alone, leave me alone!

No use, you couldn’t beat them at night. No use trying; it was their