"Arkady and Boris Strugatsky. Roadside Picnic (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автораexhilarating 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?" 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." |
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