"Simon Ings - The Wedding Party" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ings Simon)

The traffic through Portsmouth was lighter than I expected, which
means IтАЩve made it home before sunset.

тАЬHome.тАЭ Not Devon; that can wait till tonight. I mean the house I rent in
Ferring, a little seaside town in West Sussex, a stoneтАЩs throw from Brighton.
I get in and already, within minutes, IтАЩm picking up the ends of my life, IтАЩm
washing up dirty dishes, changing the sheets. Putting CDs back into boxes.

ItтАЩs a big house.

I enter the garage and dig out the valves and gauges that will free
Redson from his high-pressure prison.

The vanтАФlike I said, it runs on both petrol and natural gas. The gas
tank is mounted in the back of the van. IтАЩve had customs officers want me
to pull up the hardboard housing to reveal the tankтАФ but beyond that they
do not go. Maybe a few raps on the outside with a torch. But itтАЩs not a good
idea to go peeking inside a pressurized container.

This is how itтАЩs done, you see: where the carbon dioxide detectors
cannot go; where infra-red and ultrasound are blindтАФthis is where the truly,
irreducibly living part of Redson, head and torso, lives and breathes.

In the footwell of the passenger seat, I lay out freshly laundered
blankets to make a nest for him.

ItтАЩs important to have hold of all the parts dur-ing the crossing, in case
you get caught. With all accounted for, you have some shred of defense,
as you can argue that you meant no lasting harm to your charge.

But what would be the point in reassembling him? Hope and Redson
reflect each other.

Redson/HopeтАФI cannot allow one half to mock the other.
 The acid slew in the old post-hole must surely have eaten through the
bags by now; must already be strip-ping RedsonтАЩs arms and legs down to
the bone, chewing through the bone, I donтАЩt doubt, given time.

In the back of the van, I check on my charge. He mustnтАЩt depressurize
too fast, or the bends will take him. But the math you need in order to do
this safelyтАФitтАЩs easy enough; and I have done this before, many times.

I look at my watch, calculating the air heтАЩs got left.

Plenty, enough that I could leave him in there, unconscious, until we
are all three met again, a wedding party, in that house among the pyres and
the rain. Already in my mindтАЩs eye I am drawing the blinds on that bankrupt,
poisoned countryside. I am rolling them together, torso to torso. Inevitable,
irresistible, a contact more intimate than any embrace. I am blessing them,