"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Roadside Picnic (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

exhilarating smell of fresh coffee in the air.
Redrick walked in his bare feet to the entry hall, took the basket and
brought it to the storeroom. Then he looked into the bedroom. Monkey was
sleeping peacefully, her crumpled blanket hanging on the floor. Her nightie
had ridden up. She was warm and soft, a little animal breathing heavily.
Redrick could not resist the temptation to stroke her back covered with warm
golden fur, and was amazed for the thousandth time by the fur's silkiness
and length. He wanted to pick up Monkey badly, but he was afraid it would
wake her up-- besides, he was as dirty as hell and permeated with death and
the Zone. He came back into the kitchen and sat down at the table.
"Pour me a cup of coffee. I'll wash up later. A bundle of evening mail
was on the table: The Harmont Gazette. Sports, Playboy--there was a whole
bunch of magazines--and the thick gray-covered Reports of the International
Institute of Extraterrestrial Cultures, issue 56. Redrick took a mug of
steaming coffee from Guta and reached for the Reports. Squiggles and
markings, blueprints of some kind, and photographs of familiar objects from
strange angles. Another posthumous article by Kirill: "An Unexpected
Property of the Magnetic Trap Type-77b." The surname Panov was framed in
black and below in tiny type it said: "Dr. Kirill A. Panov, USSR, perished
tragically during an experiment in April 19.." Redrick tossed away the
journal, gulped some coffee, burning his mouth, and asked: "Did anyone drop
by?"
"Gutalin was here," Guta said, after a slight pause. She was standing
by the stove and looking at him. "He was stinking drunk, I sobered him up."
"How about Monkey?"
"She didn't want to let him go, of course. She started bawling. But I
told her that Uncle Gutalin wasn't feeling very well. And she told me,
'Gutalin's smashed again.'"
Redrick laughed and took another sip. Then he asked another question.
"What about the neighbors?"
Guta hesitated again before answering.
"Like always," she finally said.
"All right, don't tell me."
"Ah!" she said, waving her hand in disgust. "The woman from below
knocked at our door last night. Her eyes were bulging and she was
practically spitting with anger. Why are we sawing in the bath- room in the
middle of the night?"
"The dangerous old bitch," Redrick said through his teeth. "Listen,
maybe we should move? Buy a house somewhere out in the country, where
there's no one else, some old abandoned cottage?"
"What about Monkey?"
"God, don't you think the two of us could make her life good?"
Guta shook her head.
"She loves children. And they love her. It's not their fault that. . .
."
"No, it's not their fault."
"There's no use talking about it!" Guta said. "Somebody called you.
Didn't leave a name. I told him you were out fishing."
Redrick put down the mug and got up.
"OK. I'll go wash up. I've got lots of things to take care of."