"Barker, Clive - Books of Blood 02" - читать интересную книгу автора (Barker Clive)

The next photograph, and her face is buried in the meat.
Steve seemed to taste the rotten flesh in the back of his throat. His mind found a stench to imagine, and created a gravy of putrescence to run over his tongue. How could she do it?
Twenty-nine: she is vomiting in the bucket in the corner of the room.
Thirty: she is sitting looking at the table. It is empty. The water-jug has been thrown against the wall. The plate has been smashed. The beef lies on the floor in a slime of degeneration.
Thirty-one: she sleeps. Her head is lost in a tangle of arms.
Thirty-two: she is standing up. She is looking at the meat again, defying it. The hunger she feels is plain on her face. So is the disgust.
Thirty-three. She sleeps.
СHow long now?Т asked Steve.
СFive days. No, six.Т

Six days.
Thirty-four. She is a blurred figure, apparently flinging herself against a wall. Perhaps beating her head against it, Steve couldnТt be sure. He was past asking. Part of him didnТt want to know.
Thirty-five: she is again sleeping, this time beneath the table. The sleeping bag has been torn to pieces, shredded cloth and pieces of stuffing littering the room.
Thirty-six: she speaks to the door, through the door, knowing she will get no answer.
Thirty-seven: she eats the rancid meat.
Calmly she sits under the table, like a primitive in her cave, and pulls at the meat with her incisors. Her face is again expressionless; all her energy is bent to the purpose of the moment. To eat. To eat Сtil the hunger disappears, Сtil the agony in her belly, and the sickness in her head disappear.
Steve stared at the photograph.
СIt startled me,Т said Quaid, Сhow suddenly she gave in. One moment she seemed to have as much resistance as ever. The monologue at the door was the same mixture of threats and apologies as sheТd delivered day in, day out. Then she broke. Just like that. Squatted under the table and ate the beef down to the bone, as though it were a choice cut.Т
Thirty-eight: she sleeps. The door is open. Light pours
in.
Thirty-nine: the room is empty.
СWhere did she go?Т
СShe wandered downstairs. She came into the kitchen, drank several glasses of water, and sat in a chair for three or four hours without saying a word.Т
СDid you speak to her?Т

СEventually. When she started to come out of her fugue state. The experiment was over. I didnТt want to hurt her.Т
СWhat did she say?Т
СNothing.Т
СNothing?Т
СNothing at all. For a long time I donТt believe she was even aware of my presence in the room. Then I cooked some potatoes, which she ate.Т
СShe didnТt try and call the police?Т СNo.Т
СNo violence?Т
СNo. She knew what IТd done, and why IТd done
it. It wasnТt pre-planned, but weТd talked about such experiments, in abstract conversations. She hadnТt come to any harm, you see. SheТd lost a bit of weight perhaps, but that was about all.Т
СWhere is she now?Т
СShe left the day after. I donТt know where she went.Т
СAnd what did it all prove?Т
СNothing at all, perhaps. But it made an interesting start to my investigations.Т
СStart? This was only a start?Т
There was plain disgust for Quaid in SteveТs voice.
СStephen -С
СYou could have killed her!Т
СNo.Т
СShe could have lost her mind. Unbalanced her per-manently.Т
СPossibly. But unlikely. She was a strong-willed woman.Т
СBut you broke her.Т
СYes. It was a journey she was ready to take. WeТd talked of going to face her fear. So here was I, arranging for Cheryl to do just that. Nothing much really.Т

СYou forced her to do it. She wouldnТt have gone otherwise.Т
СTrue. It was an education for her.Т