"Jack Finney - Invasion of the Body Snatchers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Finney Jack)

We sat three in the front seat, and on the way out тАУ Jack lives in the country just outside town тАУ he
didn't offer any more information, and I assumed he had a reason. Jack's a thinfaced intense sort of man,
with prematurely white hair. He's about forty years old, I'd say, an intelligent man of good sense and
judgment. I knew that, because a year ago his wife was sick and he'd called me in. She had a sudden
high fever, extreme lassitude, and I diagnosed it, finally, as Rocky Mountain spotted fever. I wasn't happy
about that.You could practice medicine in California for a long time and never run across Rocky
Mountain spotted fever, and it was hard to see how she could have caught it. But I didn't see what else it
could be, and that's what I advised treatment for, starting at once. I had to tell Jack, though, that I'd
never seen a case before, and that if he wanted other opinions he must feel free to get them. But I added
that I was as sure of my diagnosis as I thought anyone else around could be of his, and that a conflicting
opinion just then тАУ uncertainness on anyone's part тАУ wouldn't be so good. Jack listened, asked some
questions, thought about it, then told me to go ahead and treat his wife, which I did. A month later she
was well, and baking cookies; Jack brought me a batch at the office. So I respected him; he knew how
to make a decision; and I waited, now, till he was ready to talk.
We passed the blackandwhite city limits sign, and Jack pointed ahead. "Turn left on the dirt road, if
you remember, Miles. It's the green house on the hill."
I nodded, and swung onto the road, shifting into second for the climb.
He said, "Stop a minute, will you, Miles? I want to ask you something."
I pulled to the edge of the road, set the hand brake, and turned to him, leaving the motor running.
He took a deep breath, and said, "Miles, there are certain things a doctor has to report when he runs
into them, aren't there?"
It was as much a statement as a question, and I just nodded.
"A contagious disease, for example," he went on, as though thinking out loud, "or a gunshot wound, or
a dead body. Well, Miles" тАУ he turned to stare out the window on his side тАУ "do you always have to
report them? Is there ever a case, I mean, when a doctor might feel justified in overlooking the rules?"
I shrugged. "Depends," I said; I didn't know how to answer him.
"On what?"
"On the doctor, I suppose. And the particular case. What's up, Jack?"
 "I can't tell you yet; I've got to know the answer to this first." Staring out his window, he thought for a
moment, then he turned to look at me. "Maybe you can answer this. Can you imagine a case, any kind of
case, a gunshot wound, for example, where the rules or the law or whatever it was, required you to
report it? And where you'd get into real trouble if you didn't report it and were found out тАУ maybe even
lose your licence? Can you imagine any set of circumstances where you might gamble your reputation,
ethics, and licence, and not turn in a report, just the same?"
I shrugged again. "I don't know, Jack; I guess so. I guess I could dream up some sort of situation
where I'd forget the rules, if it were important enough and I felt I ought to." I was suddenly irritated at all
the mystery. "I don't know, Jack; what are you getting at? This is all too vague, and I don't want you to
get the idea that I'm promising a thing. If you've got something up at your house that I ought to report, I'll
probably report it; that's all I can tell you."
Jack smiled. "All right; that's good enough. I think maybe you'll decide not to report this one." He
nodded toward his house тАУ "Let's go on up."
I pulled out into the road again, and the headlights caught a figure, maybe a hundred yards ahead,
walking toward us. It was a woman, in housedress and apron, arms huddled across her chest, hands
cupping her elbows; it gets cool here, in the evenings. Then I saw it was Theodora, Jack's wife.
I pulled toward her in low gear, then stopped beside her. She said, "Hello, Miles," then spoke to Jack,
looking into the car through my open window. "I couldn't stay up there alone, Jack. I just couldn't; I'm
sorry."
He nodded. "I should have brought you along; it was stupid of me not to."
Opening the car door, I leaned forward to let Theodora into the back seat, then Jack introduced her to
Becky, and we drove on up to the house.