"Edward L. Ferman - Best From F&SF, 23rd Edition" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ferman Edward L)

Something came around the end of the couch. It wasn't a cat. I thought it was a monkey, and then a
frog, but it was neither. It was human. It waddled on all fours like an enormous toad.
Then it stood erect. It was about the size of a cat It was pink and moist and hairless and naked. Its
very human hands and feet and male genitals were too large for its tiny body. Its belly was swollen, turgid
and distended like an obscene tick. Its head was flat Its jaw protruded like an ape's. It too had a scar, a
big, white, puckered scar between its shoulder blades, at the top of its jutting backbone.
It reached its too-large hand up and caught hold of Detweiler's belt It pulled its bloated body up with
the nimbleness of a monkey and crawled onto the boy's back. Detweiler was breathing heavily, clasping
and unclasping his fingers on the arm of the couch.
The thing crouched on Detweiler's back and placed its lips against the wound.
I felt my throat burning and my stomach turning over, but I watched in petrified fascination.
Detweiler's breathing grew slower and quieter, more relaxed. He lay with his eyes closed and an
expression of almost sexual pleasure on his face. The thing's body got smaller and smaller, the skin on its
belly growing wrinkled and flaccid. A trickle of blood crawled from the wound, making an erratic line
across the Detweiler boy's back. The thing reached out its hand and wiped the drop back with a
It took about ten minutes. The thing raised its mouth and crawled over beside the boy's face. It sat on
the arm of the couch like a little gnome and smiled. It ran its fingers down the side of Detweiler's cheek
and pushed his damp hair back out of his eyes. Detweiler's expression was euphoric. He sighed softly
and opened his eyes sleepily. After a while he sat up.
He was flushed with health, rosy and clear and shining.
He stood up and went in the bathroom. The light came on and I heard water running. The thing sat in
the same place watching him. Detweiler came out of the bathroom and sat back on the couch. The thing
climbed onto his back, huddling between his shoulder blades, its hand on his shoulders. Detweiler stood
up, the thing hanging onto hhn, retrieved the shut, and put it on. He wrapped the straps nearly around the
artificial hump and stowed it in the suitcase. He closed the lid and locked it
 I had seen enough, more than enough- I opened the door and stepped out of the closet.
Detweiler whirled, his eyes bulging. A groan rattled in his throat He raised his hands as if fending me
off. The groan rose hi pitch, becoming an hysterical keening. The expression on his face was too horrible
to watch. He stepped backward and tripped over the suitcase.
He lost his balance and toppled over. His arms flailed for equilibrium, but never found it He struck
the edge of the table. It caught mm square across the hump on his back. He bounced and fell forward on
his hands. He stood up agonizingly, like a slow motion movie, arching his spine backward, his face
contorted in pain.
There were shrill, staccato shrieks of mindless torment, but they didn't come from Detweiler.
He fell again, forward onto the couch, blacking out from pain.
The back of his shirt was churning. The scream continued, hurting my ears. Rips appeared in the shirt
and a small misshapen arm poked out briefly. I could only stare, frozen. The shirt was ripped to shreds.
Two arms, a head, a torso came through. The whole thing ripped its way out and fell onto the couch
beside the boy. Its face was twisted, tortured, and its mouth kept opening and closing with the screams.
Its eyes looked uncomprehendingly about. It pulled itself along with its arms, dragging its useless legs, its
spine obviously broken. It fell off the couch and flailed about on the floor.
Detweiler moaned and came to. He rose from the couch, still groggy. He saw the thing, and a look of
absolute grief appeared on his face.
The thing's eyes focused for a moment on Detweiler. It looked at him, beseeching, held out one hand,
pleading. Its screams continued, that one monotonous, hopeless note repeated over and over. It lowered
its arm and kept crawling about mindlessly, growing weaker.
Detweiler stepped toward it, ignoring me, tears pouring down his face. The thing's struggles grew
weaker, the scream became a breathless rasping. I couldn't stand it any longer. I picked up a chair and
smashed it down on the thing. I dropped the chair and leaned against the wall and heaved.
I heard the door open. I turned and saw Detweiler run out.