"P Andrew Miller - After The Rainbow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller P Andrew)

P Andrew Miller - After The Rainbow

They think they are being quiet, that I don't hear them, but they are wrong. I hear their breath like a gale in my ears. Their footfalls like tumbling rocks, their pulses like the footsteps of giants. The question is, do I bother to stop them?
They are climbing over the back fence, at the point that is farthest away from me. I am comfortable where I am and I don't want to go chase them. Two are now on this side of the fence; I hear them drop like a hammer striking an anvil. The third is stuck at the top of the fence. He must be overweight for he puffs air like a dying whale.
I wonder what they are after here in a car lot. The cars are all locked and only the ones up here by the main building have accessories worth stealing. They couldn't possibly expect to steal one of the cars.
Then I remember that Mr. Donahue, the owner, said that kids were breaking the crystal hood ornaments off the new Chryslers for "kicks."
As the night watchman, I suppose I should stop them. I pry myself out of my chair and head for the back door. Even though I don't need it, I take a flashlight. Its light may frighten the intruders and I won't have to deal with them. I hope I don't have to chase them for I feel as old as the World Tree itself.
I can see the two of them back along the fence. One girl, dressed in black, with a dark hat covering her head. But strands of red leak out of the wool cap, like embers to my eyes. She looks around, constantly shifting her head to see if anyone is coming.
With her is a boy, tall, thin, also dressed in black. He has dark hair and no hat. He is trying to help the fat boy down from the top of the fence. His black sweat pants are snagged on the wire.
I walk slowly through the orderly rows of cars, avoiding puddles scattered across the blacktop lot. I flick on the flashlight and shine it at them, impaling the fat one on its beam. He blinks and all color spills from his face.
"Shit," the girl whispers. "Get out of here. Go up there and help Leo get down. I'll keep the guard busy."
The thin boy clatters up the chain fence, makes it rattle like ice chipping off a cliff. In a moment he is at the top, and then over. He sticks his feet in between the links and works Leo free.
The girl has run deeper into the lot. She hides behind a red New Yorker. I can hear her breathing like the winds of Jotunheim.
The thin one frees Leo and yanks him down. They drop on the other side of the fence and start running. They don't even try to be quiet, though it would make no difference if they did.
The girl moves to the right, behind a silver car. She is still crouching low, below the roof level of the automobiles. She moves quickly, now behind a blue and then another red. Her sneakers rasp against the blacktop. I turn the flashlight in her direction and catch her in its light as she goes between rows. She stops, frozen as if her lack of movement would make her invisible.
She stares at me and green eyes shine like a cat's in the light. I hold her in the light for a full minute. She stays immobile, like a creature of ice. But her heart beats faster, like the hooves of the reindeer across the land.
I turn off my light. She stays just as still.
"You can leave," I say.
Her heart slows down a bit, and she shifts her left foot a half an inch.
"I said you can leave."
She stands up and looks at me.
"Why?" she asks.
"It isn't worth the bother," I answer. "You didn't take anything or break anything and I don't want to chase you. I am too old and you are too young. We could be at these games all night. And none of it really matters."
I turn and walk back towards the building. I know she has not moved, for I hear no footsteps. Then she turns and runs to the fence, clambering over it to drop in the grass. She runs off, her footsteps pounding like Sleipner's many hooves.

* * * * *

Two hours past dawn, I am relieved of my duties by the arriving salesman and mechanics. I walk the three miles to my apartment. I used to think it ironic that I did not own a car but now I can no longer appreciate irony.
I hate the walk to my apartment and the day with all its noises. The thumping of car tires against the road, the slapping of feet against sidewalks, the electronic beeps of the cash registers as I pass by the stores. It has taken me years to tune out the louder noises of horns and squealing brakes. But the little noises echo through my mind as in the caverns of Hel.
And though my apartment is a gray hole, it is a relief from the din of the outside. When I first moved in I had it soundproofed. I can still here the noises but they are bearable.
This morning, however, my colorless room does not relieve me. I walk in and close the door. There are no windows, no light. I don't need either. The walls are painted an off white, the one chair and bed gray. The small kitchenette I hardly use and the refrigerator are a pale yellow.
The drabness, like the soundproofing, used to be a relief. It gave my eyes a chance to rest after the garish colors of outside.
Now I realize that it is all gray and I miss the color.
Color used to be all around me, reds and oranges that burned brighter than any fire, yellows that outshone the sun, greens that no earthly blade of grass could match, blues that made the sky and the oceans gray, indigos deeper and richer than the veils of night, and violets that no poet could describe.
It is gone now, shattered, dead.
A sound like waves crashing against rocks interrupts me and I realize it is my tears hitting the floor.

* * * * *

I go to work tonight, though I don't know why I bother. A force of habit, or remnants of my sense of duty that is more outmoded than I am. It does not matter; I am here.
But perhaps it is time for me to die as well. To vanish like Bifrost. To scatter in the wind.
That is what I'm thinking slightly after midnight when I hear the footsteps approaching the back fence. I hear the grass spring up after she passes, the leather jacket rub slightly against her denim pants. I hear her breathing and heart beat. It is the same girl who was here last night.
She is still some fifty yards away from the back fence and though there is a skunk about thirty feet to her left, she is alone. Leo and the thin one are not with her tonight.
Why has she come back? I thought that last night would have frightened her. But I can tell she isn't afraid. She may have the spirit of Valhalla in her.
She is still approaching and I leave the office and go to meet her. I walk to the back fence and stand by one of the cars. I can see her now. She wears the same garments as the night before.
She walks up to the fence and slowly begins to climb. The fence quivers with the slightest rattle that I could hear from miles away.
She makes her way up the fence and easily clears the top. She hangs for a moment and drops to the ground. She turns and finds me standing there.
She gasps and steps back. She could not have seen me last night as I had blinded her with my light. But tonight her eyes are clear and she sees before her a man seven feet tall. I am broad and my beard, now graying, hangs down to my chest. I suppose I could be frightening.
"Good evening," I say.
"How did you know? You couldn't possibly have heard me," she says.