"Gustav Hasvord. The Short-Timers " - читать интересную книгу автора

HER!"

Gunnery Sergeant Gerheim can't control himself any longer. "NOW YOU
LISTEN TO ME, YOU FUCKING WORTHLESS LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT. YOU WILL GIVE ME
THAT WEAPON OR I'M GOING TO TEAR YOUR BALLS OFF AND STUFF THEM DOWN YOUR
SCRAWNY LITTLE THROAT! YOU HEAR ME, MARINE? I'M GOING TO PUNCH YOUR FUCKING
HEART OUT!"
Leonard aims the weapon at Sergeant Gerheim's heart, caresses the
trigger guard, then caresses the trigger...
Sergeant Gerheim is suddenly calm. His eyes, his manner are those of a
wanderer who has found his home. He is a man in complete control of himself
and of the world he lives in. His face is cold and beautiful as the dark
side surfaces. He smiles. It is not a friendly smile, but an evil smile, as
though Sergeant Gerheim were a werewolf baring its fangs. "Private Pyle, I'm
proud-"
Bang.
The steel buttplate slams into Leonard's shoulder.
One 7.62-millimeter high-velocity copper-jacketed bullet punches
Gunnery Sergeant Gerheim back.
He falls.
We all stare at Sergeant Gerheim. Nobody moves.
Sergeant Gerheim sits up as though nothing has happened. For one
second, we relax. Leonard has missed. Then dark blood squirts from a little
hole in Sergeant Gerheim's chest. The red blood blossoms into his white
skivvy shirt like a beautiful flower. Sergeant Gerheim's bug eyes are
focused upon the blood rose on his chest, fascinated. He looks up at
Leonard. He squints. Then he relaxes. The werewolf smile is frozen on his
lips.
My menial position of authority as the fire watch on duty forces me to
act. "Now, uh, Leonard, we're all your bros, man, your brothers. I'm your
bunkmate, right? I-"
"Sure," says Cowboy. "Go easy, Leonard. We don't want to hurt you."
"Affirmative," says Private Barnard.
Leonard doesn't hear. "Did you see the way he looked at her? Did you? I
knew what he was thinking. I knew. That fag pig and his dirty-"
"Leonard..."
"We can kill you. You know that." Leonard caresses his rifle. "Don't
you know that Charlene and I can kill you all?"
Leonard aims his rifle at my face.
I don't look at the rifle. I look into Leonard's eyes.
I know that Leonard is too weak to control his instrument of death. It
is a hard heart that kills, not the weapon. Leonard is a defective
instrument for the power that is flowing through him. Sergeant Gerheim's
mistake was in not seeing that Leonard was like a glass rifle which would
shatter when fired. Leonard is not hard enough to harness the power of an
interior explosion to propel the cold black bullet of his will.
Leonard is grinning at us, the final grin that is on the face of death,
the terrible grin of the skull.
The grin changes to a look of surprise and then to confusion and then
to terror as Leonard's weapon moves up and back and then Leonard takes the