[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

and felt a shock like cold electricity run through her. She sat there for a long moment, unable to turn away
from what was in the seat next to her.
"I'm sorry," a man's voice said. Startled, she jumped . . . and fell on the grass. The damp, cold grass
overlooking the moonlit canyon, where she had parked the car an hour before. Her fingers were still
wrapped around the revolver. That damned revolver.
I should never have bought it,she thought.I couldn't use it for competition shooting. Someone's
hand appeared in front of her, looking as solid as her own. A male hand. He took the gun from her
nerveless fingers, and then carefully pulled her to her feet.
She couldn't bear to look back at the car and what was in it, so she looked at him. A young man, with
horn-rimmed glasses and black hair cut too short, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, a long sheathed knife at
his belt.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "I couldn't get here fast enough. I tried to, but I couldn't."
He reached into his jeans pocket and took out several bullets, all of which had a faint, silvery sheen to
them, as though illuminated from some distant, unseen light. He popped out the cylinder and shook out
the single empty brass casing within, then began reloading it with six of the new, strange bullets.
"This time, I think they knew I was on my way," he said. "They're getting smarter about us. They're
getting smarter, period." He glanced at her. "So, what do you want to do now?"
"Can we backtrack a little?" she asked faintly. "Aren't I dead?"
He nodded. "Well, yes," he said. "At least, you're mostly dead. I killed one of them before they could
eat you. What's left of you. But I couldn't get here before you died." He gestured at the ground, and for
the first time, she saw it.
Her first reaction was to run screaming. But somehow she stood there, staring down at it. It was shiny,
and a shade of violet so dark as to be almost black, and about the size of a large dog. It looked as
though it was made of glass, with too many arms and legs, and other alien body parts she couldn't
identify. It was, thankfully, obviously and completely dead, which was the only good thing about it. Now,
as she watched, it was slowly dissolving into a foul liquid, fading into the grass.
She felt her legs give way, and then she was kneeling on the ground, unable to stop shaking, tears
threatening. The unknown young man continued talking, as he finished reloading the gun. "Three of them
got away. Not good. We don't know what they are, exactly. They come when someone commits suicide.
It's like killing yourself somehow rips open a hole in the world, opens a door for them. And they come
through, and they eat the soul of the person who just killed himself. I've come across them in the middle
of their meal, and let me tell you, it's not a pretty sight. The soul doesn't stop screaming until it's almost all
gone. But this one can't hurt you; it's dead, or whatever passes for dead with these things." He practiced
sighting with the revolver at an imaginary target. "There are more and more of them, all the time. It's not
like they go home afterwards. They stay here, and they find other people who are right on the edge, close
to suicide, and they somehow push them over that edge. And then eat their souls. Like they would have
done to you."
He helped her to her feet. "Anyhow, it's time for me to go. We can't stay in one place, they'll come
looking for us." He handed the revolver to her. "Good choice in a pistol," he said.
"I wish I'd never bought it," she said, fighting back tears.
"Don't we all?" he agreed cheerfully. "For me, it was a hunting knife." He pulled the long knife out from
its sheath, and held it out for her inspection. Like the bullets, it had a faint, silvery light to it. "For some
reason, those weapons that we . . . bring with us, they seem to work better than the ones that are made
for us afterwards. So a six-shooter, that's good. Six bullets are usually enough. Too bad no one ever
commits suicide with a grenade launcher." He paused, as though listening for something. "We have to
leave, right now. They aren't that far away. And they're about to feed. I'll take you with me."
Before she could say a word, the world blurred around her. And then she was standing somewhere else.
Still on the cold, damp grass, but now in a city park, faintly lit by distant streetlights. Maybe twenty feet
away, a woman lay on a plaid blanket on the grass, sobbing quietly. Even at this distance, she could see
the light reflecting off her tears and the orange bottle of prescription pills on the blanket. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]