"Jerry Davis - The Moon at Noon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

then quickly began undoing the wing nuts so that he could fold the
wings and get out of sight. From somewhere to his right he heard
shouting, and he gritted his teeth, trying to hurry. "Over there!"
he heard a woman's voice. "I think he landed!"
"Where?!"
"Over there!"
Mike folded the wings and rushed into the bushes, pulling the
glider after him. He pulled his pack out and fumbled with his
clothes, putting his underwear on backwards and buttoning his
shirt crooked. By the time he had his safety suit on he could hear
people in the meadow where he'd landed, calling out to each other,


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saying they could swear this is where he had dropped from sight.
Trying to be as silent as possible, he disassembled the glider ---
though no matter what he tried, he couldn't silence the unsnapping
of the buttons. Someone was poking around in the bushes to the
right of him, about ten meters away, when Mike finished stowing
the glider in the pack. He took a breath, turned toward the street
and pushed his way through the bushes to the sidewalk.
There were two cops and a squad car right in front of him.
One was walking around the bushes toward the meadow, the other
stood at the car and then looked over to see Mike on the sidewalk,
looking guilty. "Hey," he said, walking over to Mike. "What's that
in the bag there?"
"What?"
The officer reached over and unzipped part of the bag, where
a tuft of the nylon had been sticking out. He pulled more of the
nylon out and felt it with his fingers. "I'll be damned," he
muttered, looking up and peering into Mike's eyes. "You're him."
"I'm who?" Mike said, but his voice was shaking, as were his
hands.
"Don't play games with me, you're that crazy bastard mooning
the city from the air!" The officer whipped out his night stick
and smacked Mike in the face. "Pervert!" Whack! "Terrorist!"
Whack, whack! Mike gasped in agony and fell backwards, watching in
horror as the policeman's partner came into view and begin
delivering blows of his own.

#

Consciousness came and went. Mike was aware of the ride in
the ambulance, and the doctors putting stitches in his face. Then
he was in a hospital bed. The gaps in between were like sections
of a video tape that had been erased with a magnet. He lie in the
white, sterile linen, held snugly by the safety straps required of
all hospital beds, and stared at the holes in the ceiling. His