"Anthony, Piers - Mode 01 - Virtual Mode" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

He did not seem to know what the bread was. She opened the package and took out a slice. He gazed at it blankly. She took a bite of it. Then his face lighted; he finally understood. He took a slice and bit into it with considerably less delicacy than she had. Oh, yes, he was hungry!

Standing there, watching him eat, Colene finally had time to reflect on what all this might be leading to. She had rescued a man; now what was she going to do with him? He did not seem to be aggressive, but of course he was weak from hunger and thirst. What would he be like when he had his strength back? She really should report him now; she had taken much more risk than she should have, and gotten away with it, but there were limits. She knew nothing about him except that he was a man, and that was warning enough.

She returned to the house and fetched two blankets from her closet. She knew already that she was not going to turn him in. He might turn on her and kill her, but that risk intrigued her more than it frightened her. She would see this through to wherever it led, no matter what. If she could only keep anybody else from finding out about him.

Did that mean she was going to try to keep him captive? After all, how could she stop him from simply walking out? She didn't know, but until he did depart, she would take care of him.

The man finished the loaf of bread, and Colene returned to the house to get more food. She couldn't take anything else that would be missed; it would be difficult enough explaining the bread. She found some old cookies, and some leftover casserole in the back of the refrigerator; she could say it was getting moldy so she threw it out. It was getting moldy, but she trimmed off the mold and took it anyway. She was an old hand at trimming mold, because her mother constantly forgot things; she knew it wasn't anything to freak out about.

The man was glad to have the additional food. But he remained weak, and she knew she couldn't send him back out into the world. He would just collapse again.

But there was something she had to make clear to him. How could she establish communication, so as to tell him what she needed to? For the fact was that her parents would be getting home soon, and if the man showed himself, the game would be up. He had to remain hidden.

Well, all she could do was try. First maybe they could exchange names. She tapped herself on the breastbone: "Colene. Colene." Then she pointed to him.

He looked at her, then tapped himself similarly. "Colene."

Oops. She cast about for something else. She picked up a notepad and pencil, and quickly drew two figures, one small and female, the other larger and male. She pointed to herself, then to the female. "Me. Colene." Then to the male. "You."

She paused expectantly.

He took the paper. "Me. Colene," he said, pointing to the female. "You. Darius."

Well, it was progress. "Me Colene, girl," she said, tapping herself again. "You Darius, man."

He nodded, pointing to her. "Me-"

"No, you." He looked perplexed, but managed to get it. "You Colene girl. Me Darius man."

She smiled. "Yes." It was a beginning. He did not know her language, but he could learn. She drilled him on Yes and No until she was sure he understood them, and tested him on the picture of the horse on the wall, titled "For Whom Was That Neigh?" "Man?" she asked, pointing to it. No. "Girl?" No. "Horse?" Yes. He had it straight. Then she gave her message. She opened the door and pointed to the house beyond. "House. Colene. Yes. House. Darius. No."

After some back-and-forth, he seemed to understand. But he seemed uneasy, even uncomfortable.

"What's the matter?" she asked.

Finally he made what might have been taken as an obscene gesture, but he did it in such an apologetic manner that she knew he wasn't trying to insult her. He touched and halfway squeezed his groin.

"The bathroom!" she exclaimed, catching on. "You have to use the-" But she couldn't bring him to the house for that!

"Wait," she told him, and dashed back to the house. She dug out a big old rusty pot and brought it to the shed. "This."

She pantomimed sitting on it. She even made the whoopee noise.

He looked extremely doubtful. "No, I won't watch you!" she said, knowing he couldn't understand the words, but hoping the sense of it came through. "I have to go to the house, there." She pointed to it. "So my folks won't know anything's up. I'll try to check back on you, when I can. You just stay here." Then she stepped out, and closed the door on him.

She was just in time: her father's car was pulling into the drive. She hurried to the back door and in. She checked the kitchen to make sure that nothing there would give her away, then went to the front room to pick up her school books. But no, this was Friday, and she never did homework on Friday. She didn't want to arouse suspicion. She had to be perfectly normal. So she turned on the TV too loud and plumped down on the couch.

Her father came in. "Turn that thing down!" he snapped.