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

sniffed and scratched, and then sat by the fence and waited. People came
round from the whole neighborhood. They stared and stared but were afraid,
of course, to come close. Finally somebody got a bright idea--they broke
open the door to his house, making an entrance for him. And what do you
think? He got up, went in, and shut the door behind him. I was late for
work, so I don't know how it turned out, but I do know that they were
planning to call the institute and have someone come over and get him the
hell out of there.
"Stop," Redrick said. "Let me off right here.''
He rummaged in his pocket. He had no change and had to break a new
bill. Then he stood in the doorway and waited for the cab to drive away.
Buzzard's cottage wasn't too bad: two stories, a glassed-in veranda with a
pool table, a well-tended garden, a greenhouse, and a white gazebo under the
apple trees. A filigree iron fence painted light green surrounded it ail.
Redrick pushed the bell several times, the gate swung open with a creak, and
Redrick slowly moved up the shady path, with rose bushes planted along the
edges. Hamster was already standing on the porch. He was gnarled, black, and
trembling with the desire to be of service. Impatiently he turned sideways,
lowered one trembling leg in search of support, steadied himself, and
dragged the other foot to meet its mate. His right arm shook convulsively in
Redrick's direction, as if to say, coming, coming, any minute.
"Hey, Red!" a woman's voice called from the garden.
Redrick turned his head and saw bare tanned shoulders, a bright red
mouth, and a waving hand among the greenery next to the lacy white roof of
the gazebo. He nodded to Hamster, turned from the path, and breaking through
the rose bushes, headed for the gazebo along the soft green grass.
A large red mat was spread on the lawn, and Dina Burbridge was sitting
regally on it with a glass in her hand and a miniscule bathing suit on her
body; a book with a bright cover lay on the mat and an ice bucket with a
slender bottle neck peering over the edge sat in the shade nearby.
"Hi, Red!" Dina Burbridge said, greeting him with a wave of the glass.
"Where's the old man? Don't tell me he's messed up again?"
Redrick stood over her with the briefcase in his hands behind his back.
Yes, Buzzard sure managed to wish himself up some marvelous children out
there in the Zone. She was all silk and satin, firm and full, flawless,
without a single unnecessary wrinkle - hundred- twenty pounds of sugar-candy
flesh, and emerald eyes that had an inner glow, a large wet mouth and even
white teeth, and raven hair, shining in the sun and carelessly tossed over
one shoulder. The sun was caressing her, pouring from her shoulders to her
belly and hips, leaving deep shadows between her almost naked breasts. He
stood above her and looked her over openly, and she looked up at him,
laughing understandingly, and then raised the glass to her lips and took
several sips.
"You want?" she asked, licking her lips. She waited just long enough
for him to get the double entendre and then handed him the glass.
He turned and looked until he found a chaise longue in the shade. He
sat down and stretched his legs.
"Burbridge is in the hospital," he said. "They're going to amputate his
legs."
Still smiling, she looked at him with one eye. The other was covered by