Ray Bradbury Stories Volume 2. Ray Bradbury

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ calling the cops!’ A window slammed.

      ‘God,’ said Bella, ‘if the cops come—’

      ‘What?’

      ‘It’ll be all wrong. If anyone’s going to tell them to take it easy, pipe down, it’s gotta be us. We care, don’t we?’

      ‘God, yes, but—’

      ‘No buts. Grab on. Here we go.’

      The two voices murmured below and the piano tuned itself with hiccups of sound as they edged down another step and another, their mouths dry, hearts hammering, and the night so dark they could see only the faint streetlight at the stair bottom, the single street illumination so far away it was sad being there all by itself, waiting for shadows to move.

      More windows slammed up, more screen doors opened. At any moment there would be an avalanche of protest, incredible outcries, perhaps shots fired, and all this gone forever.

      Thinking this, the women trembled and held tight, as if to pummel each other to speak against the rage.

      ‘Say something, Zelda, quick.’

       ‘What?’

      ‘Anything! They’ll get hurt if we don’t—’

       ‘They?’

      ‘You know what I mean. Save them.’

      ‘Okay. Jesus!’ Zelda froze, clamped her eyes shut to find the words, then opened her eyes and said, ‘Hello.’

      ‘Louder.’

      ‘Hello,’ Zelda called softly, then loudly.

      Shapes rustled in the dark below. One of the voices rose while the other fell and the piano strummed its hidden harp strings.

      ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Zelda called.

      ‘That’s good. Go on.’

      ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Zelda called, braver now. ‘Don’t listen to those others yelling. We won’t hurt you. It’s just us. I’m Zelda, you wouldn’t remember, and this here is Bella, and we’ve known you forever, or since we were kids, and we love you. It’s late, but we thought you should know. We’ve loved you ever since you were in the desert or on that boat with ghosts or trying to sell Christmas trees door-to-door or in that traffic where you tore the headlights off cars, and we still love you, right, Bella?’

      The night below was darkness, waiting.

      Zelda punched Bella’s arm.

      ‘Yes!’ Bella cried, ‘what she said. We love you.’

      ‘We can’t think of anything else to say.’

      ‘But it’s enough, yes?’ Bella leaned forward anxiously. ‘It’s enough?’

      A night wind stirred the leaves and grass around the stairs and the shadows below that had stopped moving with the music box suspended between them as they looked up and up at the two women, who suddenly began to cry. First tears fell from Bella’s cheeks, and when Zelda sensed them, she let fall her own.

      ‘So now,’ said Zelda, amazed that she could form words but managed to speak anyway, ‘we want you to know, you don’t have to come back anymore. You don’t have to climb the hill every night, waiting. For what we said just now is it, isn’t it? I mean you wanted to hear it here on this hill, with those steps, and that piano, yes, that’s the whole thing, it had to be that, didn’t it? So now here we are and there you are and it’s said. So rest, dear friends.’

      ‘Oh, there, Ollie,’ added Bella in a sad, sad whisper. ‘Oh, Stan, Stanley.’

      The piano, hidden in the dark, softly hummed its wires and creaked its ancient wood.

      And then the most incredible thing happened. There was a series of shouts and then a huge banging crash as the music box, in the dark, rocketed down the hill, skittering on the steps, playing chords where it hit, swerving, rushing, and ahead of it, running, the two shapes pursued by the musical beast, yelling, tripping, shouting, warning the Fates, crying out to the gods, down and down, forty, sixty, eighty, one hundred steps.

      And half down the steps, hearing, feeling, shouting, crying themselves, and now laughing and holding to each other, the two women alone in the night wildly clutching, grasping, trying to see, almost sure that they did see, the three things ricocheting off and away, the two shadows rushing, one fat, one thin, and the piano blundering after, discordant and mindless, until they reached the street, where, instantly, the one overhead streetlamp died as if struck, and the shadows floundered on, pursued by the musical beast.

      And the two women, abandoned, looked down, exhausted with laughing until they wept and weeping until they laughed, until suddenly Zelda got a terrible look on her face as if shot.

      ‘My God!’ she shouted in panic, reaching out. ‘Wait. We didn’t mean, we don’t want – don’t go forever! Sure, go, so the neighbors here sleep. But once a year, you hear? Once a year, one night a year from tonight, and every year after that, come back. It shouldn’t bother anyone so much. But we got to tell you all over again, huh? Come back and bring the box with you, and we’ll be here waiting, won’t we, Bella?’

      ‘Waiting, yes.’

      There was a long silence from the steps leading down into an old black-and-white, silent Los Angeles.

      ‘You think they heard?’

      They listened.

      And from somewhere far off and down, there was the faintest explosion like the engine of an old jalopy knocking itself to life, and then the merest whisper of a lunatic music from a dark theater when they were very young. It faded.

      After a long while they climbed back up the steps, dabbing at their eyes with wet Kleenex. Then they turned for a final time to stare down into the night.

      ‘You know something?’ said Zelda. ‘I think they heard.’

       The Dwarf

      Aimee watched the sky, quietly.

      Tonight was one of those motionless hot summer nights. The concrete pier empty, the strung red, white, yellow bulbs burning like insects in the air above the wooden emptiness. The managers of the various carnival pitches stood, like melting wax dummies, eyes staring blindly, not talking, all down the line.

      Two customers had passed through an hour before. Those two lonely people were now in the roller coaster, screaming murderously as it plummeted down the blazing night, around one emptiness after another.

      Aimee moved slowly across the strand, a few worn wooden hoopla rings sticking to her wet hands. She stopped behind the ticket booth that fronted the MIRROR MAZE. She saw herself grossly misrepresented in three rippled mirrors outside the Maze. A thousand tired replicas of herself dissolved in the СКАЧАТЬ