"Robert F. Young - The Other Kids" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

He was running out of the house again, and into the bright morning. He started across the street to
where the other kids were playing in the snow. He didn't see the snowball. It had been packed tight and
it had been thrown hard. It struck him squarely in the face, exploding in blind numbing pain.
He stopped in the middle of the street. At first he couldn't see, but after a while his eyes cleared. But
only for a moment. Then they were blind again, blind with tears, and he was running back to the house,
back to the warm comfort of his mother's arms
The captain's voice was taut. "I'll give you one more chance, Lieutenant. Give the order to fire!"
The lieutenant stood silently, his face contorted with the remembered pain.
"Fire!" the captain screamed. The morning detonated.
The captain and the soldiers and the sheriff shot the genie. The genie's eyes went out like shattered
electric light bulbs and it collapsed into a tangle of arms and legs.
The lieutenant shot the captain. The captain's face looked silly as he slipped slowly to the ground. His
officer's cap had come off and so had the top of his head.
After that the lieutenant was running. He looked wildly around for the house but it wasn't there any
longer. And that was odd, he thought. It had been there a moment ago.
One of the other kids was shouting something in a thin rasping voice but he did not stop. He kept on
running. He had to find the house, the security of the house, the warmth of his mother's arms—
The second snowball struck him squarely in the back of the head. It wasn't half as bad as the first one
had been. The first one had hurt all the way through him. The first one had never stopped hurting. This
one didn't hurt at all. There was just a sudden flash of brightness, and then nothing—
Nothing at all.