"Jay Lake - A Mythic Fear of the Sea" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lake Jay)

Beneath my hand I felt the life of a man who was a mountain to his people. I
leaned forward and kissed his scalp.

Daddy chuckled. тАЬYouтАЩre getting closer to him, Little Ozzie. Ready to climb.тАЭ

And so we left our boots behind, strapped on crampons, and ascended that
wall of liver-spotted skin.

***

You set the spike in one of the pale canals between the leathery islands. You
move one foot up, wedge it in another canal with the crampons. Move the free hand,
searching for some rough grip. Move the other foot. Set the spike again.

This is how you climb GranddaddyтАЩs head. If heтАЩd had hair, it might have
been easier, but then there would have been mites.

And when you stop and rest, body pressed flat against his vast and ancient
scalp, you can hear the sea echoing deep inside, and even smell the salt.

It was the hardest, most fearful day of my life. Daddy said nothing, just
climbed ahead of me.

***

We finally crested the dome and came to a place where I could stand and
walk. Everything hurt, as if IтАЩd been rolling down hillsides for hours. Daddy pointed
to a distant, curving wall.

тАЬWeтАЩll make for the ear,тАЭ he said. тАЬThatтАЩs where we need to be.тАЭ

So I trudged after my father, toward the temple and the ear, through thin
spears of gray hair that erupted from the skin from time to time. There was dirt up
here too, blown by the wind, and little plants had taken root. Someday the old man
would be a forest.

Daddy didnтАЩt take his crampons off, so I kept mine on as well. It felt strange
to sink into GranddaddyтАЩs skin with each step, but he was so vast that perhaps he
never took note of our passage at all.

When we finally got to the shadow of the ear, Daddy sat down. тАЬRest, son,тАЭ
he said, and began hacking in to a reddened fold of skin. I watched, both horrified
and fascinated, as Daddy grinned and added, тАЬThe old manтАЩs grace.тАЭ

Strips of flesh tore free from the wound with the sound of ripping cloth.
Daddy handed me one, then began chewing on another. I stared at itтАФsomething like
a red licorice rope, but damp. Not bloody, just damp.

My stomach jumped hard, the sour milk rebelling.