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

few nicks here and there. But these sanitarium patients never had a chance to get any; their bodies were
unused. And that's how this one looks" тАУ I nodded at the pale, motionless body under the light. "It's not
tubercular, though. It's a wellbuilt, healthy body; those are good muscles. But it never played football or
hockey, never fell on a cement stair, never broke a bone. It looks тАжunused.That what you mean?"
Jack nodded. "Yeah. What else?"
"Becky, you all right?" I glanced across the table at her.
"Yes." She nodded, biting at her lower lip.
"The face," I said, answering Jack. I stood looking down at that face, waxywhite, absolutely still and
motionless, the chinaclear eyes staring. "It's not тАУ immature, exactly." I wasn't sure how to say this.
"Those are good bones; it's an adult face. But it looks" тАУ I hunted for the word, and couldn't find it тАУ
"vague. It looksтАУ"
Jack interrupted, his voice tense and eager; he was actually smiling a little. "Did you ever see them
make medals?"
"Medals?"
"Yeah, fine medals. Medallions."
"No."
"Well, for a really fine job, in hard metal," Jack said, settling into his explanation, "they make two
impressions." I didn't know what he was talking about or why. "First, they take a die and make
impression number one, giving the blank metal its first rough shape. Then they stamp it with die number
two, and it's the second die that gives it the details: the fine lines and delicate modeling you see in a really
good medallion. They have to do it that way because that second die, the one with the details, couldn't
force its way into smooth metal. You have to give it that first rough shape with die number one." He
stopped, looking firm me to Becky, to see if we were following him.
 "So?" I said a little impatiently.
"Well, usually a medallion shows a face. And when you look at it after die number one, the face isn't
finished. It's all there, all right, but the details that give it character aren't." He stared at me. "Miles, that's
what this face looks like. It's all there; it has lips, a nose, eyes, skin, and bone structure underneath. But
there are no lines, no details, no character. It's unformed. Look at it!" His voice rose a notch. "It's like a
blank face, waiting for the final finished face to be stamped onto it!"
He was right. I'd never seen a face like that before in my life. It wasn't flabby; you certainly couldn't
say that. But somehow it was formless, characterless. It really wasn't a face; not yet. There was no life to
it, it wasn't marked by experience; that's the only way I can explain it. "Who is he?" I said.
"I don't know." Jack walked to the doorway and nodded out at the basement and the staircase leading
upstairs. "There's a little closet under the stairway; it's walled in with plywood to make a little storage
space. It's half full of old junk: clothes in cardboard boxes, burnedout electrical appliances, an old
vacuum cleaner, an iron, some lamps, stuff like that. We hardly ever open it. And there are some old
books in there, too. I found him in there; I was hunting for a reference I needed, and thought it might be
in one of those books. He was lying there, on top of the cartons, just the way you see him now; scared
me stiff. I backed out like a cat in a doghouse; got a hell of a bump on the head" тАУ he touched his scalp.
"Then I went back and pulled him out. I thought he might still be alive, I couldn't tell. Miles, how soon
does rigor mortis set in?"
"Oh тАУ eight to ten hours."
"Feel him," said Jack. In a way he was enjoying himself, as a man will who's made a big promise and is
living up to it.
I picked up an arm from the table, by the wrist; it was loose and flexible. It didn't even feel clammy, or
particularly cold.
"No rigor mortis," Jack said. "Right?"
"That's right," I said, "but rigor mortis isn't invariable. There are certain conditionsтАУ" I stopped talking; I
didn't know what to make of this.
"If you want," said Jack, "you can turn him over, but you won't find any wounds in the back, and there