"George R. R. Martin - WC 8 - One Eyed Jacks" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)
anyone, have to pick someone else's brain, goddammit, isn't anything private
anymore?
"Truthfully," he continued, as though nothing untoward had happened, and Cody
found herself admiring his damnable alien poise as much as she was infuriated by
it,
"I'd forgotten all about my letter in the press of recent events. I never
expected an answer."
"Desperation has a way of overcoming even the most primal terrors."
"How clever. I only caught the one news broadcast. What exactly happened?"
She shrugged. "I shot my mouth off, got my ass shot off in return."
"Uncomfortable."
"I should introduce you to my kid, he has exactly the same opinion."
"I'd like to meet him. I have a grandson myself."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you. A true blessing, actually.". From the way he spoke, the faintest
coloration to his tone, she wondered if that was as true as he obviously wanted
it to be.
"I'm glad for you."
"And I am still curious."
"Well"--she sighed--"after Chris was born, I packed in city life and headed for
the high country. My folks left me their ranch-not really much as spreads go,
nowhere near big enough to support itself, but heaven to live on-so I based
file:///F|/rah/George%20R.%20R.%20Martin/Martin,%20George%20R.%20R%20-%20Wildcards%208%20-%20One%20Eyed%20Jacks.txt
myself there and hung out my shingle. Small-town GP, doing emergency surgery on
the side. Figured there'd be the end of things. Until the fires."
"They're still burning. Last spring, hardly anyone knew what we were in for.
Forest Service followed policy and let the lightning strikes burn uncontested.
But the weather turned vicious-no rain, sun baking the woods tinder dry, winds
whipping the flame front into firestorms. Alarm went out to damn near every
fire-fighting outfit in the country. Indians handled the brunt of the work,
about the best there are at this business."
"You ever wonder, Doc, if your virus affects the inanimate substance of the
earth itself? Some of those Indians do. You value your hide, steer well clear of
Apaches and the Cheyenne. They view the world as a living being, as much so as
humanity itself. They see what the wild card does to people, they wonder if it
can twist-even murder-the planet the same way."
"That's preposterous." He was genuinely shocked. She barely noticed. She was in
the center of a broad mountain meadow with a beaten crew-most so tired they
couldn't stand, much less run for their lives-staring in horror at a wall of
flame two hundred meters away, where five minutes before there'd been a stand of
magnificent timber.
"Maybe. Fires sure seemed alive to us. Sneaky and intelligent, and vicious as a
bear trap. Forest Service brought in some joker crews to handle the scutwork
cleanup in the low-intensity areas. They should have been fine. Probably, in any
other fire, any other summer, they would have. I'm sure you can guess the rest."
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