"Reed-TheSingingMarine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Kit)

KIT REED

THE SINGING MARINE

It's so hot in August in that part of Virginia that dogs die standing up and
even insects stick to the asphalt. Flies buzz in place. Embedded, an overturned
stag beetle waves its legs helplessly. The singing Marine has to move fast to
keep his boondockers from sinking in and gluing him to the spot.

He may be singing to take his mind off what's just happened -- the tragedy, or
is it disgrace that probably marks the end of his life in the service. The
accident -- his platoon. How many men has he lost, and how can a man facing
court martial ever hope to love the general's daughter?

Putting one boot in front of the other, he goes along as if understanding is a
place you can get to on foot, and as he goes, the song just keeps unfurling. "My
mother m-m-m . . ."

If anybody asked what he was singing he would look up, surprised; who,me?

But he sings, ". . . m-m-m-m-murdered me . . ."

The road gets stickier. Heat mirages shimmer in the middle distance and rise up
in front of him, thick and troublesome as cream of nothing soup.

Fuddled by the dense air, the Marine bows his head against the heat and goes
into the dim rural drugstore. He is not aware he's being followed.

"What's that you're singing?"

The Marine blinks. "Say what?"

It is a woman's voice. "Mister, the song."

Exploding afterimages of sunlight stud the dimness, so he does not immediately
see the speaker. "Ma'am?"

The voice blurs suggestively. "Sit down, Lieutenant."

He blunders against a large shape -- leatherette booth, he thinks. He can still
leave. "Ma'am, you don't want me to sit with you."

The woman's hand closes on his arm and pulls him down. "You don't know what I
want until I tell you."

"You haven't told me your name."

It becomes clear she isn't going to. He hears the sound she makes inside her