"Mike O'Driscoll - A Soldier's Things" - читать интересную книгу автора (O'driscoll Mike)

chief's daughter performed a dance not seen for a thousand years. The
truth was, she communed with jungle spirits, and had gained powers and
knowledge long lost to her people.
Later, when Spigweed's brain burned with the power of the dream, she drew
him away from the bungalow and asked him what he most desired. "I think
you know that," he told her.
"Yes, but what do I get in return?" she asked him, her eyes searing his
mind.
Spigweed kissed her fiercely on the lips and said, "Whatever you want."
So, she fucked him there beside a stream, and afterwards he told her of
the gifts. At the time, he thought it a fair exchange.
The bungalow was a weathered shack, crumbling in the fetid heat, when
Spigweed returned. The gangrene stench from Nately's wound was sweet and
sickening, and he mumbled incoherently to himself. Prewitt climbed the
trees and like a madman, he beseeched the cacophonous birds to make the
song return. Their gifts were stolen and the world they had dreamed was
fading like the jungle mist.
Slowly, not even realising the truth, each of them began to die in many
little secret ways.
Till, one evening, just as the heavy stormclouds finished pissing on their
forlorn heads, the tiny old man walked into the clearing. "I see things
haven't gone as well as you expected," he said to Spigweed.
"We didn't ask for much," Spigweed said, exhausted.
"But you laid with the woman," the old man said.
"Was that wrong?"
"Oldest trick in the book. Still, all is not lost. Go to Azul and there
you will find her powdering her nose, a habit to which she has become too
accustomed."
Despite his disgust, Spigweed asked how to get there.
"Follow the song."
When the old man had gone, Spigweed consulted with Prewitt. Together, they
carried Nately into the jungle and then strangled him to death. It was,
they told themselves, the only humane thing to do. They left his body to
be eaten by the wild and nameless beasts that lurked in the shadows beyond
the edge of their perception. Then, together, they set off to find the
land of Azul. They wandered through treacherous swamps and climbed ogrish
mountains, catching on the air the distant notes of an ancient song. After
many days, they came down out of the mountains into a clear, green valley
where no wild beasts thrived. This was Azul. Wary at first, but growing
bolder, they walked into the village and saw the magic spell that had been
woven over the land. The once proud warriors crawled on their bellies in
the dusty grass, mouthing silent songs to accompany the music that filled
the air. Others sat blank-eyed, staring at the space where life used to
be. And in a wooden temple, they found the chief and his wives, sprawled
at the feet of his daughter. Oblivious to the intruders, she sucked on the
end of a crystal pipe and tried to find the right words to go with the
tune that ate her brain.
Spigweed picked up the bag of cocaine. Prewitt took the cowl from the
woman's head and the beatbox from her side. "I wish," he said, "that you
live for a thousand years, and that all the time your need, your craving