"Walter M. Miller - The Best of Walter M. Miller" - читать интересную книгу автора (Miller Walter M)

into the maples toward the creek.
"You'll know in four or five months," he told me, in answer to a question. "Don't ask me now. You'd
laugh."
But it became apparent that he wouldn't last that long. The rate of transfusions doubled, and on his
bad days, he was unable to get out of bed. He fainted down by the creek, and had to he carried back to
the house. Cleo forbade him to go outside alone without Jules' day-to-day ap-proval, and Jules was
beginning to be doubtful about the boy's activities.
When restricted, Kenny became frantic. "I've got to go outside, Dad, please! I can't finish it if I don't.
I've got to! How else can I make contact with them?"
"Contact? With whom?"
But he clammed up and refused to discuss anything about the matter. That night I awoke at two a.m.
Something had made a sound. I stole out of bed without dis-turbing Cleo and went to prowl about the
house. A glance down the stairway told me that no lights burned on the first floor. I went to Kenny's
room and gingerly opened the door. Blackness.
"KennyтАФ?"
No sound of breathing in the room. Quietly I struck a match.
 The bed was empty.

"Kenny!" I bellowed it down the hall, and then I heard soundsтАФCleo stirring to wakefulness and
groping for clothes in our bedroom. I trotted downstairs and turned on lights as I charged from room to
room.
He was not in the house. I found the back screen un-latched and went out to play a flashlight slowly
over the backyard. There . . . by the hedge . . . caught in the cone of light ... Kenny, crumpled over a
garden spade.
Upstairs, Cleo screamed through the back window. I ran out to gather him up in my arms. Skin
clammy, breathing shallow, pulse irregularтАФhe muttered peculiarly as I carried him back to the house.
"Glad you found it ... knew you'd find it . . . got me to the right time . . . when are we . . . ?"
I got him inside and up to his room. When I laid him on the bed, a crudely drawn map, like a treasure
map with an "X" and a set of bearings, fell from his pocket. I paused a moment to study it. The "X" was
down by the fork in the creek. What had been buried there?
I heard Cleo coming up the stairs with a glass of hot milk, and I returned the map to Kenny's pocket
and went to call the doctor.
When Kenny awoke, he looked around the room very carefullyтАФand seemed disappointed by what
he saw. "Expecting to wake up somewhere else?" I asked.
"I guess it was a dream," he mumbled. "I thought they came early."
"Who came early?"
But he clammed up again. "You'll find out in about four months," was all he'd say.
He wouldn't last that long. The next day, Doc Jules ordered him to stay inside, preferably sitting or
lying down most of the time. We were to carry him outside once a day for a little sun, but he had to sit in
a lawn chair and not run around. Transfusions became more frequent, and finally there was talk of moving
him to the hospital.
"I won't go to the hospital."
"You'll have to, Kenny. I'm sorry."
That night, Kenny slipped outside again. He had been lying quietly all day, sleeping most of the time,
as if sav-ing up energy for a last spurt.
Shortly after midnight, I awoke to hear him tiptoe down the hall. I let him get downstairs and into the
kitchen before I stole out of bed and went to the head of the stairs. "Kenny!" I shouted. "Come back up
here! Right now!" There was a brief silence. Then he bolted. The screen door slammed, and bare feet
trotted down the back steps. "Kenny!"
I darted to the rear window, overlooking the backyard. "Kenny!"