"David Gerrold - [SS] The Strange Disappearance of David Gerrold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gerrold David)

I came down on one knee, still holding him, cradling him, talking to him, while he
made frightened noises in my arms, trembling and terrified, but too weak to run. I
wrapped him in the blue blanket, it was a darker shade of blue and the color seemed
to comfort him. He looked at me with sea-green eyes, so wide and questioning, I had
the sense of both intimacy and alienness at the same time.

I had a brief moment to study his face. His earsтАФwerenтАЩt ears, they were
more like flower-cups uncurling, like the way fresh spears of grass unfurl; they
pointed upward and gave his face an elfin quality. His nose was sharp and straight,
with flaring nostrils, like a wild animalтАЩs. His mouth, wide and wild; his lips were
dark and thin. For a moment, I had a flash of bright green teeth, maybe a little too
sharp. I brushed his light blue-green hair off his darker blue-green forehead, a
parental caress, and whispered again to him, тАЬItтАЩs all right now, youтАЩre safe. YouтАЩre
going to be all right. I promise.тАЭ

I donтАЩt know if he understood. Maybe he did. Maybe it was my imagination,
maybe his trembling eased, maybe it didnтАЩt. Maybe he was too tired to fight
anymore, and maybe he was relaxed enough in my arms to let me lift him away. Still
cradling him, I carried him back to the camper. I laid him out on one of the beds,
then hesitated. This boy was frightened of something sinisterтАФfrightened enough to
try climbing naked through a barbed-wire fence. Both of the beds could be lifted up,
revealing coffin-sized storage bins beneath. I opened the empty one and tucked the
boy into it, wrapping him as warmly as possible. His wounds were seeping dark
purple blood, but they werenтАЩt spurting, and for some reason, I had such a clear and
present sense of danger, I knew it was important that we get out of there as quickly
as possible. I reassured him again that everything would be all right, then closed the
lid as gently as possible.

I grabbed the red backpack where IтАЩd dropped it and scrambled back into the
driverтАЩs seat, put the pickup in gear and eased the car forward. For a moment, I
wanted to stand on the gas pedal, but that was probably a bad idea. DonтАЩt do
anything suspicious-looking. Keep driving at the same casual speed. Forty to fifty
miles per hour. Up through the foothills, up toward the dark stands of evergreens
dotting the lower slopes of whatever range this was. Lassen? IтАЩd lost my bearings.

A few minutes later, I came to a turnoutтАФone of those inevitable Vista Point
overlooks, where you could stand at the edge of the cliff and take pictures of
whatever the locals considered a spectacular view. Sometimes it actually was
spectacular, but most of the time it was just a lot of distance. I went to the back of
the camper and opened the bed again, the boy was still trembling. His eyes flashed
wildly, but he let me sit him up and I gave him a water bottle to suck onтАФone of
those sport bottles that has a grown-up nipple; squeeze the bottle and it gushes into
your mouth. The boy didnтАЩt know what to make of it until I squirted a little fresh
water, then he sucked thirstily. His expression softened, he closed his eyes and let
me examine his back and sides and even the scrapes across his belly. His wounds
werenтАЩt as bad as I had feared, but he was streaked with dirt and mud and purple
blood. He looked more green than blue now; maybe because he was warming up.

I opened the backpack and pulled out the gauze and tape and scissors and
some wet-wipes. I cleaned his cuts as carefully as I couldтАФthat must have hurt, he