"Chad Oliver - The Winds of Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oliver Chad)

sleep. He snored.
There was nothing to look at. Wes felt that by now he had memorized every detail of the vault, from
the dark shapes in the niches to the cracks on the rocks that hemmed him in. He was no longer tired, and
he thought his mind was somewhat clearer. Oddly, his terror had left him. He was still afraid, still
uncertain, but the whole affair had taken on a remote dreamlike quality, in which nothing was played for
keeps and everything would somehow be all right in the end.
He recognized the symptoms of shock in himself.
That means the stuff is wearing off. If I can just get hold of myself before he wakes up—
He waited. There was nothing else to do.
He thought of the sleeping man next to him. He had made it to Lake City, evidently. Had he walked
or taken the car? He had bought some things, and that must have involved some experimentation with the
money. Surely, surely, he had created a stir in Lake City. Sooner or later someone would make the
connection with Wes, if he hadn't done so already. And then—
Could they find him?
And what would they find? A living man—or something else?
The time passed very slowly. Wes thought he was coming out of it a little, but not fast enough. And
when the man at his side woke up, Wes could still do no more than move his head a trifle from side to
side.
Here we go again.
The man got up and looked closely at Wes. Wes lay very still, almost holding his breath. The man
smiled a little and touched his shoulder in what Wes interpreted as a reassuring gesture.
Or is he just picking out a haunch?
The man stretched and ate two candy bars, not with any very obvious relish. Then he walked over to
the niches and examined the forms that still slept in them. He watched them for a long time, touched one
of them gently.
There was no response.
Wes was glad of it.
He didn't know what would come out of that niche, and he was in absolutely no hurry to find out.
The man took out the gun, the same one he had used on Wes. He checked it carefully, reset a dial on
the butt end of it.
He licked his lips.
Wes suddenly got very cold, but recovered himself promptly.
 Stop thinking about it! You're making it worse!
In a somewhat more objective frame of mind Wes realized what the man was going to do. It was
obvious enough. No matter how alien the man looked, his thought processes were not by any means
impossible to follow. If he couldn't buy enough food for a decent meal, he had to get it some other way.
Therefore he was going hunting.
The man went out again through the portal, taking his gun with him.
Wes was decidedly curious despite his position. If the man were just after food, and if he could really
use that gun for hunting, why go all the way to Lake City in the first place? There was plenty of game in
these mountains, especially if you weren't overly particular what you were eating. Wouldn't it have been
simpler just to bag a deer or something right off the bat?
But I don't think he knew how far away Lake City was. And maybe he was after something
more important than food.
What?
Information, of course.
He's trying to find out something about us. I'm positive he's never seen a man like me before.
He's looking for something. What? And why?

The man was gone a long time. When he came back he had fresh meat with him, already skinned and