"Pat Murphy - Inappropriate Behavior" - читать интересную книгу автора (Murphy Pat)

beneath the surface of the skin. When he tried to move his leg again, he gasped as the stabbing pain
returned.

He heard the sound again: a mechanical rasping like a radio tuned to static. He turned in the direction of
the sound, head aching, eyes dazzled by the sun. A gigantic cockroach was examining him with
multifaceted eyes.

The creature was at least three feet long, with nasty looking mandibles. Its carapace glittered in the
sunlight as it stood motionless, staring in his direction.

Again, the mechanical squawk, coming from the cockroach. This time, the sound was followed by a
scratchy voice. "Bonjour," the cockroach said.

He had taken two years of French in high school, but he could remember none of it. This must be a
dream, he thought, closing his eyes against the glare.

"Do you speak English?" the scratchy voice asked.

He opened his eyes. The roach was still there. "Yes," he rasped through a dry throat.

"You shouldn't be here," the scratchy voice said. "What are you doing here?"

He looked past the monster, struggling to make sense of his situation. The beach sand was the pure white
of pulverized coral. On one side of the beach was a tangle of mangroves. On the inland side, palm trees
rose from scrubby undergrowth. The water of the lagoon was pure tropical blueтАФpaler where the coral
reef was near the water's surface; darker where the water was deep. Some hundred yards offshore, he
could see the mast of a boat sticking up out of the water. His boat.

He remembered: he had been heading west toward the Cook Islands when the storm came up. He ran
before the wind toward an island that was an unnamed speck on the nautical chart. He had made it over
the reef into the lagoon before the surge smashed the boat against a coral head, cracking the hull,
swamping the boat, sending him flying overboard to smash into the reef. He didn't remember breaking his
leg and struggling through the surf to the beach.

"Thirsty," he rasped through dry lips. "Very thirsty. Please help me."

He closed his eyes against the dazzling sunlight and heard the sound of metal sliding against metal as the
roach walked away. He wondered if the monster was leaving him to die.

A few minutes later, he heard the sound of the roach returning. He opened his eyes. The cockroach
stood beside him, holding a coconut in its mandibles. As he watched, the roach squeezed, and the point
of each mandible pierced the outer husk, neatly puncturing the nut in two places.

Still gripping the coconut, the cockroach took a step toward him, opened its mandibles, and dropped the
nut beside him. A thin trickle of coconut milk wet the sand.

"You can drink," said the cockroach.

He picked up the coconut, pressed his lips to the hole in the shaggy husk, and tipped it back. The
coconut milk was warm and sweet and wet. He drank greedily.