"Arcady And Boris Strugatsky. Prisoners of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора

avoiding obstacles. He crossed roads twice: first a deserted road, then
Route 11, also deserted. Here he heard the barking of dogs for the first
time. Unable to determine if they were bloodhounds, he decided to play it
safe and make a large detour. Half an hour later he found himself jogging
between warehouses in the city's freightyard.
Lights glowed, locomotives whistled, and people scurried. News of the
incident had probably not reached here yet, but he had better stop running
before he was taken for a thief. He slowed down to a walk, and when a heavy
freight train plowed past him toward the city, he hopped into the first
sand-filled car he spotted; he lay there until it reached a cement plant.
Then he hopped off, shook off the sand, and considered his next move.
It would be pointless to make his way to Forester's house, although it
was the only safe hideout in the vicinity. He could try to spend the night
in Duck Village, but that would be dangerous. Captain Chachu knew that area
well. Besides, the thought of appearing suddenly at old Illi's home and
confronting her with the news of her daughter's death was too much for him.
Where else could he go? He entered a shabby little tavern frequented by
workers, ate some sausages, drank some beer, and dozed off, leaning back
against the wall. All the other customers were as grimy and tired as he;
these were workers who had come off the night shift and missed the last
streetcar home.
He dreamed about Rada. Guy was out on a raid. Good! Rada loved him,
welcomed him warmly, let him change his clothes and wash. The civilian
clothes Fank had given him were still there. Then, in the morning, he would
head east where a second safe hiding place was located. At that point he
woke up. Throwing a crumpled bill on the counter, he left.

It was a short safe walk to her place. The streets were deserted except
for a man stationed at the entrance to the apartment house. The porter. He
was asleep on his stool. Maxim tiptoed past him, walked upstairs, and rang
the bell. It was quiet behind the door. Then he heard something stirring,
footsteps, and the door opened. It was Rada.
She stifled a cry. Maxim hugged and kissed her. It was like coming home
after having been given up for dead. He closed the door behind him and they
entered the room quietly. Rada burst into tears. The room hadn't changed,
except that his little sofa was missing. Guy, sitting on his bed in his
pajamas, stared at Maxim, stunned and frightened. Several minutes passed as
Maxim and Guy looked at each other and Rada cried.
"Massaraksh!" Guy said weakly. "You're alive!"
"Hello, Guy. I'm sorry you're home. I didn't want to get you into
trouble. Say the word and I'll leave."
Rada clutched his arm.
"No, you won't! You're not going anywhere. Just let him try... if you
go, I go, too!"
Guy flung off the blanket, hopped out of bed, and walked over to Maxim.
He touched Maxim's shoulders and grimy hands, and wiped his own brow,
smudging it.
"Impossible! I can't believe it! I give up," he said. "You're alive.
Where did you come from? Rada, stop howling! Are you wounded? You look
awful. And there's blood on you."