"Avram Davidson - The House the Blakeneys Built" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Avram)

Robert stopped struggling for a moment. Caught off-guard, his captors loosened
their holdтАФhe broke away from their hands and his bonds, and, crying, "The
tools! The tools!", dashed into the burning fire. The blazing roof fell in
upon him with a great crash. No sound came from him, nor from Shulamith, who
fainted. The baby began a thin, reedy wail.

Working as quickly as they could, in their frenzy, the Blakeneys added to the
lumber and waste and scraps around the machinery in the shed, soon had it all
ablaze.

The fire could be seen all the way back.

"Wasn't right, wasn't right," Young Red Bob said, over and over again.

"A bad thing," Old Little Mary agreed.

Young Big Mary carried the baby. Shulamith and Mikicho were led, dragging,
along. "Little baby, a hey, a hey," she crooned.

Old Whitey Bill was dubious. "Be bad blood," he said. "The elses women grow
more babies. A mum mum," he mused. "Teach them better. Not to funnywalk,
such." He nodded and mumbled, peered out of the windowlook, his loose mouth
widening with satisfaction. "Wasn't right," he said. "Wasn't right. Another
house. Can't be another house, a second, a third. Hey, a hey! Never was elses
but The House. Never be again. No."

He looked around, his gaze encompassing the cracked walls, sinking floors,
sagging roof. A faint smell of smoke was in the air. "The House," he said,
contentedly. "The House."


The End