"anthony,_piers_&_farmer,_philip_jose_-_the_caterpillars_question" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farmer Phillip Jose)

Printed in the United States of America

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 I

THEY had told Jack they thought it was psychosomatic. She could talk if
she wanted to, and might even recover the sight of one eye. But it had
taken seven years to obtain the grant from the foundation, and now she
was thirteen.

He glanced at her, sitting tight and stiff in the passenger bucket.

Her dark hair was cut so short it was boyish, but the gentle bulges in
the heavy man's shirt she wore belied any boyhood or childhood. One
hand toyed indifferently with the buckle of the seat belt, and under her
cotton skirt the shiny length of a metal brace paralleled her left leg.
Her sharp chin pointed forward, but of course she was not watching
anything.

The horn of the car behind him blared as the light changed. Jack
shifted and edged out, waiting for the string of late left-fumers to
clear. He wasn't even certain which city this was; the hours of silent
driving had grown monotonous.

"Are you ready to stop, Tappy?" But she did not answer or make any sign.
He knew she heard and understood-but he was still a stranger, and she
was afraid. Had they even bothered to tell her where she was going, or
why?

Concord, maimed at the age of six, in the accident that killed her
father. She had never known her mother, and the kin that took her in
had not been pleased very long with THEIR burden. Jack had no doubt they
had made this plain to girl many times.

THEY PULLED into a roadside restaurant. His job was to transport HER to
the clinic. She couldn't cover a thousand miles Without eating. -WHy
hadn't they sent her by plane, so that all this driving was Necessary?
No, the plane was out of the question. Tappy surely remembered that
last trip in her father's little flier. Apparently there had been a
miscalculation, and they had crashed. Jack had not inquired about the
details, for Tappy had been there listening, and he had never been one
for pointless cruelty.

He got out, opened her door, unsnapped her seat belt, slipped his hands
under her arms, and lifted her to her feet. They had warned him about
this, too: there was often no way to make her come except to make her
come. Anywhere. Otherwise she might simply sit there indefinitely,
staring sightlessly ahead. He felt awkward, putting his hands on her,
but she did not seem to notice.

He guided her firmly by the elbow and stopped at the little sign