"Rog Phillips - The Involuntary Immortals" - читать интересную книгу автора (Phillips Rog)

тАЬI know,тАЭ he said. тАЬIтАЩve often wondered about it myself. But I say now that you
should not fear it, whatever it may be. Nothing but good can ever come of it. Some
day you will know what it is.тАЭ
 His strong face contorted in a spasm of pain. He dropped back on the pillow.
Helen touched his forehead gently, with the palm of her hand, and knew he was
gone. She bit her lip and turned away, feeling something depart from her heart that
left it vacant.
тАЬHeтАЩs gone!тАЭ AgnesтАЩ shuddering whisper held disbelief. тАЬHeтАЩs gone!тАЭ
Conviction turned her voice into a shrill scream.
тАЬIt was you, mother,тАЭ Agnes accused. тАЬYou killed him by drawing his life into
your own body just as you are doing to mine and all those around you!тАЭ
The words, full of hatred, pelted HelenтАЩs ears like hail and echoed painfully in her
now-lonely heart, mocking its emptiness. There was nothing she could say to
comfort her deluded daughter. Nothing she could do.
She didnтАЩt know. Agnes could be right; maybe Helen did drain the life from those
around her in some unknown way to preserve her youth.
Maybe I did! It was her own despairing thoughts accusing her now. Maybe I do!
She moved into the outer room. As she stepped through the door, waiting
relatives drew away from her. A wide-eyed youth hid behind his motherтАЩs skirt,
peeking at her with an owlish stare. He was CarlтАЩs nephew, and he believed her to be
a witch or vampire because she was still twenty after forty years as CarlтАЩs wife.
If they knew how old you really are! Her thoughts were torturing her again. She
had lied when she married Carl. How could she tell him she was over a hundred even
then?
She had told Carl once and he hadnтАЩt believed her, had laughed as if it were an
absurd joke. She had finally joined in with his laughter and silently resolved to keep
her secret. On the marriage certificate she had placed her age as twenty. Each year
she had added another year to that twenty while her body, her face, her eyes, and her
spirit had remained the same.
If I only knew why! She had said this to herself so often. She didnтАЩt know why.
She had never been any different than her own sisters and brothers, except that they
had grown up, grown old and died long ago, while she had just grown up and
stopped changing.
She didnтАЩt know why, and she would have to move on now, on into a lonely
world, and change her name again and say she was twentyтАФand look lovingly into
the admiring eyes of some male whose great grandfather had been in diapers when
Helen was already mature.
It would all have to be done over again. There was nothing else in life for her
except to love and marry and raise childrenтАФwho would all too soon look older and
feel older than she.
What had the poet said? тАЬIf you can see your life work broken, and stoop and
build it up again with worn-out toolsтАжтАЭ
She smiled tremulously at the nephew. Timidly he smiled back, then buried his
tear-stained face in his motherтАЩs skirt. Wordlessly she continued across the room,
past the silent statues of mourning people, and climbed the stairs that led to the
second floor of what had been her home for so long.
The carpeted hall muffled her footsteps. The hoarse crying of her nephew
downstairs followed her to her room. The bitter, angry sobbing of her daughter
Agnes seeped through the hall faintly, depressingly, like a damp dark fog.
She began taking down pictures and removing them from their frames. Hours