"Davis, Jerry - Halloween Ants" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

"Yes, you are. We all are. Our brain chemistry has been
modified."
Brad was silent. A chemical? A chemical had done this? It
was all real? "This doesn't make it better." His voice was barely
above a whisper. "It makes it all worse."
"I've killed too, Brad," Randy said. "In fact I'm the oneЧ"
There was a loud sound, and then loud, garbled shouting. "The
police are here," Randy told him. "I have to go." The line went
dead.
Brad dropped the phone. He dashed to the door that led to
the garage, slammed it open and jumped down the three steps to the
concrete. The police would probably kill Randy Ц they knew about
his gun collection. He had to get there before it happened Ц he
had to explain it to them, the police, that Randy wasn't to blame.
It was the chemical company.
He started his car while the garage door slid open, and
gunned it down the driveway and onto the street. He passed the gas
station and turned left, passing the shopping center and the
grocery store. The golf course was on his left, and Randy's house
was on a street on the other side of the course. There was the
sound of distant gunfire, but Brad had no idea if it was the
police, or other people who were affected by the enzyme.
He wondered if the police would believe him. Brad wondered
if he even believed it himself. If an enzyme changed a person's
brain chemistry and caused him to commit murder, then it would be
the fault of the chemical, not the person. But, he thought, if
brain chemistry determines actions, then couldn't any murder be
blamed on bad brain chemistry? Who was to say what influenced it?
Anything from experimental pesticides to too many Hostess Twinkies
could cause the imbalance. What if it was inherently imbalanced?
Was it still to blame?
Brad turned off the main road and sent the car flying down
the street toward Randy's house. He could see several police cars
and a van out front. There were cops all around and several
neighbors gathered together in groups. He skidded to a stop,
jumping out of the car and running up to an officer yelling,
"Don't hurt him!"
The officer held his hand up. "Please stay back."
"You don't understand, it wasn't himЧ" Brad stopped
abruptly, seeing four officers carrying Randy's bullet-ridden body
out of the house.
"It was him," the cop said. "We found the remains."
Brad opened his mouth, but closed it again. The question of
Randy's innocence was now moot. He watched as they carried the
body into the van. The officer who'd stopped Brad walked over to
the van as well, and they all crowded in and shut the door.
Minutes went by, and no one came out. The neighbors still stood in
clumps, talking in low voices, and occasionally there would be an
overloud voice from a police radio.
The police all remained in the van. Thinking this was odd Ц