"Aleksandr Abramov, Sergei Abramov. Horsemen from Nowhere ("ВСАДНИКИ НИОТКУДА", англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

Anokhin?"
I turned round. Throwing back the canvas door of the tent, obviously
right behind me, came a robust man in a cap with high standing artificial
fur and in a nylon fur jacket with a zipper. He was tall, broad in the
shoulders and unshaven and appeared to be terribly frightened. What could
have frightened this athlete is hard to imagine.
"Anyone speak English here?" he asked, chewing and stretching the words
as he spoke.
"Not one of my teachers ever had a pronunciation like that. A
southerner, probably from Alabama or Tennessee," I thought.
Zernov spoke the best English among us and so he answered:
"Who are you and what do you want?" "Donald Martin!" he yelled. "Flier
from MacMurdo. Got anything to drink? As strong as you've got." He drew the
edge of his palm across his throat. "Very necessary."
"Give him some spirits, Anokhin," said Zernov.
I poured out a glass and gave it to him. Though very unshaven, he
couldn't have been older than me. He took the whole almost at a single
swallow, coughed, his throat constricted and his eyes filled with blood.
"Thank you, sir," he said finally when he could catch his breath. Then
he started to tremble. "I had to make a forced landing, sir."
"Skip the 'sir'," said Zernov, "I'm not your superior. My name is
Zernov. Zernov," he repeated each syllable. "Where did you land?"
"Not far from here. Almost alongside."
"Without mishap?"
"No fuel, and the radio's on the bum."
"Then you can stay here. And you can help us move over to the tractor."
Zernov stopped, trying to get the proper English pronunciation, and, seeing
that the American wasn't sure, he added: "Oh, there's place enough and we
have a radio set."
The American continued to hesitate, as if not decided yet that he would
speak, then he pulled himself up and in military fashion said:
"Please arrest me, sir. I have committed a crime."
Zernov and I exchanged glances. Perhaps the thought of Vano occurred to
us at the same time.
"What kind of a crime?" Zernov asked guardedly.
"I think that I have killed a man."


Chapter VI. THE SECOND FLOWER




Zernov walked over to Vano who was all covered up. He threw back the
fur from his face and sharply asked the American:
"Is this the man?"
Martin cautiously and, what appeared to me to be in a frightened
manner, approached and said rather unconvincingly:
"Nnnoo."
"Take a better look," said Zernov still more sharply.