"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автораtheir ancient rifles, flung them down, dropped to the ground, and covered
their eyes with their hands so they wouldn't see themselves mauled to pieces. And Maxim, too, lost his head. Well, not exactly, but he didn't want to fight the vampires. I had to do their dirty work for them. Clips were all gone, so I used my gun butt. Luckily, there weren't many of them. Six, in all. Two were killed, one escaped, and three were knocked unconscious. We bound them and planned to take them to the village in the morning and execute them. Well, that night I took a look and what did I see? Maxim had gotten up quietly and gone to them. He sat with them, nursed them, applied hand massage, then untied them. They weren't fools. Naturally, they took to their heels. I said to him: 'Mac, why the hell did you do that?' 'I don't know myself,' he said, 'but I feel that it's wrong to execute them. Wrong to kill people, or even these things. They are neither dogs nor vampires.' "If they aren't vampires, what are they? Flying mice? The hell they are: they're flying horrors. What else could be roaming through the village at night, stealing children? And they don't even enter the house, but the children, still asleep, go out to them. Suppose it is a pack of lies - but I've seen a thing or two myself. I still remember the day the duke took us to see the closest entrance to the Fortress. We saw this beautiful, peaceful green meadow. And a knoll. In the knoll was a cave. We looked and saw the entire meadow in front of the cave's entrance strewn with dead vampires. About two dozen of them, at least, and they weren't crippled or wounded. Not a drop of blood on the grass. But most surprising was Maxim's diagnosis after he had examined them. Not dead, he said, but in a trance, as if they had been hypnotized. The question is how did it happen. It's certainly an to be careful. If it weren't for Maxim, I'd have taken off like a streak of lightning. But where could I have gone? It's all forest, and the forest is full of evil spirits. No tank - our tank sank in a swamp. Could I have run back to my own country? That would have seemed the natural thing to do - to run back to my own people. But are they mine now? They, too, are freaks, puppets. Maxim is right. What kind of people are they, that they can be controlled by machines? No, I've no use for them." Maxim and Guy entered the square, a wasteland; in its center stood the fused metal remains of a monument. They turned toward the one surviving cottage where the city's representatives gathered to exchange rumors and advice on sowing or hunting, or simply to sit, doze, or listen to the duke's stories of bygone days. The people had already assembled in a large, clean room. How repulsive it was to look at them. Even at the duke. Although apparently not a mutant, he too was disfigured. Bums and scars covered his face. They entered, exchanged greetings, and sat down in a circle on the floor. Boshku, who was sitting beside the stove, removed a teapot from the coals, and served each of them a cup of good strong tea. Without sugar. Guy accepted his cup - a cup of unusual beauty, priceless, made of royal porcelain. He set it down in front of him, leaned the butt of his gun on the floor between his knees, pressed his forehead against its ribbed barrel, and closed his eyes to avoid seeing them. The duke opened the meeting. He had been the Fortress' chief surgeon. |
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