"Dan Simmons - Eyes I Dare Not Meet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons Dan)

just as the pain and dizziness struck behind her left eye. Bremen grimaced and
dropped the coin he was handing to the toll-booth attendant.
"What's the matter, buddy?"
Bremen shook his head, fumbled out a dollar, and thrust it blindly at the man.
Throwing his change in the Triumph's cluttered console, he concentrated on pushing
the car's speed to its limit. Gail's pain faded, but her con-fusion washed over him in
a wave of nausea.
She quickly gained control despite the shifting curtains of fear that fluttered at the
tightly held mindshield. She subvocalized, concentrating on narrowing the spectrum
to a simulacrum of her voice.
"Hi, Jerry."
"Hi, yourself, kiddo." He sent the thought as he turned onto the exit for Long Beach
Island. He shared the visualтАФthe starting green of grass and pine trees overlaid with
the gold of August light, the sports car's shadow leaping along the curve of asphalt.
Suddenly the unmistak-able salt freshness of the Atlantic came to him, and he shared
that with her also.
The entrance to the seaside community was disappoint-ing: dilapidated seafood
restaurants, overpriced cinder-block motels, endless marinas. But it was reassuring
in its familiarity to both of them, and Bremen concentrated on seeing all of it. Gail
began to relax and appreciate the ride. Her presence was so real that Bremen caught
himself turn-ing to speak aloud to her. The pang of regret and embar-rassment was
sent before he could stifle it.
The island was cluttered with families unpacking station wagons and carrying late
dinners to the beach. Bre-men drove north to Barnegat Light. He glanced to his right
and caught a glimpse of some fishermen standing along the surf, their shadows
intersecting the white lines of breakers.
Monet, thought Gail, and Bremen nodded, although he had actually been thinking of
Euclid.
Always the mathematician, thought Gail, and then her voice faded as the pain rose.
Half-formed sentences shred-ded like clouds in a gale.
Bremen left the Triumph parked near the lighthouse and walked through the low
dunes to the beach. He threw down the tattered blanket that they had carried so
many times to just this spot. There was a group of children run-ning along the surf.
A girl of about nine, all long white legs in a suit two years too small, pranced on the
wet sand in an intricate, unconscious choreography with the sea.
The light was fading between the Venetian blinds. A nurse smelling of cigarettes and
stale talcum powder came in to change the IV bottle and take a pulse. The intercom
in the hall continued to make loud, imperative announce-ments, but it was difficult to
understand them through the growing haze of pain. The new doctor arrived about ten
o'clock, but Gail's attention was riveted on the nurse who carried the blessed needle.
The cotton swab on her arm was a delightful preliminary to the promised surcease of
pain behind her eye. The doctor was saying something.
"...your husband? I thought he would be staying the night."
"Right here, doctor," said Gail. She patted the blanket and the sand.
Bremen pulled on his nylon windbreaker against the chill of the night. The stars were
occluded by a high cloud layer that allowed only a few to show through. Far out to
sea, an improbably long oil tanker, its lights blazing, moved along the horizon. The
windows of the beach homes behind Bremen cast yellow rectangles on the dunes.
The smell of steak being grilled came to him on the breeze. Bremen tried to
remember whether he had eaten that day or not. He considered going back to the