"Steven Gould - Jumper 02 - Reflex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)TWO "That's not his blood." Davy jumped to an alley running behind Nineteenth Street Northwest, just east of George Washington University. It was cool and the pavement was wet from recent rain, but it wasn't quite as cold as New York had been and, for once, the alley didn't smell of urine. Water dripped from fire escapes and telephone wires and he hunched his neck into his jacket as he turned toward the lighted street. Just short of the sidewalk, where the alley widened behind a store, a refrigerator carton lay tucked against the wall, waterproofed by a layer of split plastic garbage bags. The ragged blanket that served as a door curtain was half-open and Davy saw two sets of eyes reflecting the mercury streetlamp. Children's eyes. He paused. Did they see me arrive? The dim faces moved back into the shadow and vanished. Sighing, Davy crouched down without moving any closer to the box. "Where're your parents, guys?" There was no response. two children flinched in the faint light. They were cleaner than he expected and the sleeping bag they were sharing looked fairly new. The face in front was pure Mayan, bright dark eyes and shocks of midnight hair. The second face was paler, with straw-colored hair, but the features were identical. Girls, he guessed. "┬┐Donde est├б su madre?" he tried. Reluctantly, the eldest, perhaps eightтАФhe couldn't really tellтАФsaid, "Est├б trabajando. Una portera." A janitor. Nightshift work that didn't require good English. "┬┐Y su padre?" She just shook her head. "┬┐De d├│nde es usted?" Where are you from? "Chiapas." Displaced. He thought about what their trip must've been like. They probably traveled on third class buses up the length of Mexico, then in some horribly crowded van from someplace like Laredo after crossing the border illegally. The little girl, perhaps five or six, suddenly spoke, "Papa fue desaparecido." |
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