"Zelazny, Roger - DIVINE~2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

The previous evening, when he awakened, he realized where he was
headed.
Twice, he exerted all of his will power in an attempt to interrupt
the sequence of events. He failed.
He wanted to die. If he had killed himself that day, he would not
be headed back toward it now.
There were tears within his mind as he realized the past which lay
less than twenty-four hours before him.
The past stalked him that day as he unnegotiated the purchase of
the casket, the vault, the accessories.
Then he headed home into the biggest hangover of all and slept
until he was awakened to undrink drink after drink and then return to
the morgue and come back in time to hang up the telephone on that
call, that call which had come to break...
...The silence of his anger with its ringing.
She was dead.
She was lying somewhere in the fragments of her car on Interstate
90 now.
As he paced, unsmoking, he knew she was lying there bleeding.
...Then dying, after that crash at 80 miles an hour.
...Then alive?
Then re-formed, along with the car, and alive again, arisen? Even
now backing home at terrible speed, to re-slam the door on their final
argument? To unscream at him and to be unscreamed at?
He cried out within his mind. He wrung the hands of his spirit.
It couldn't stop at this point. No. Not now.
All his grief and his love and his self-hate had brought him back
this far, this near to the moment...
It _couldn't_ end now.
After a time, he moved to the living room, his legs pacing, his
lips cursing, himself waiting.

The door slammed open.
She stared at him, her mascara smeared, tears upon her cheeks.
"!hell to go Then," he said.
"!going I'm," she said.
She stepped back inside, closed the door.
She hung her coat hurriedly in the hall closet.
".it about feel you way the that's If," he said shrugging.
"!yourself but anybody about care don't You," she said.
"!child a like behaving You're," he said.
"!sorry you're say least at could You"
Her eyes flashed like emeralds through the pink static, and she
was lovely and alive again. In his mind he was dancing.
The change came.
"You could at least say you're sorry!"
"I am," he said, taking her hand in a grip that she could not
break. "How much, you'll never know."

"Come here," and she did.