-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Гейл Форман
-
- Если я останусь
-
- Стр. 10/126
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
Am
I
dead
?
At
first
it
seemed
obvious
that
I
am
.
That
the
standing
-
here
-
watching
part
was
temporary
,
an
intermission
before
the
bright
light
and
the
life
-
flashing
-
before
-
me
business
that
would
transport
me
to
wherever
I
’
m
going
next
.
Except
the
paramedics
are
here
now
,
along
with
the
police
and
the
fire
department
.
Someone
has
put
a
sheet
over
my
father
.
And
a
fireman
is
zipping
Mom
up
into
a
plastic
bag
.
I
hear
him
discuss
her
with
another
firefighter
,
who
looks
like
he
can
’
t
be
more
than
eighteen
.
The
older
one
explains
to
the
rookie
that
Mom
was
probably
hit
first
and
killed
instantly
,
explaining
the
lack
of
blood
.
"
Immediate
cardiac
arrest
,
"
he
says
.
"
When
your
heart
can
’
t
pump
blood
,
you
don
’
t
really
bleed
.
You
seep
.
"
I
can
’
t
think
about
that
,
about
Mom
seeping
.
So
instead
I
think
how
fitting
it
is
that
she
was
hit
first
,
that
she
was
the
one
to
buffer
us
from
the
blow
.
It
wasn
’
t
her
choice
,
obviously
,
but
it
was
her
way
.
But
am
I
dead
?
The
me
who
is
lying
on
the
edge
of
the
road
,
my
leg
hanging
down
into
the
gulley
,
is
surrounded
by
a
team
of
men
and
women
who
are
performing
frantic
ablutions
over
me
and
plugging
my
veins
with
I
do
not
know
what
.
I
’
m
half
nak
*
d
,
the
paramedics
having
ripped
open
the
top
of
my
shirt
.
One
of
my
br
*
*
sts
is
exposed
.
Embarrassed
,
I
look
away
.
The
police
have
lit
flares
along
the
perimeter
of
the
scene
and
are
instructing
cars
in
both
directions
to
turn
back
,
the
road
is
closed
.
The
police
politely
offer
alternate
routes
,
back
roads
that
will
take
people
where
they
need
to
be
.
They
must
have
places
to
go
,
the
people
in
these
cars
,
but
a
lot
of
them
don
’
t
turn
back
.
They
climb
out
of
their
cars
,
hugging
themselves
against
the
cold
.
They
appraise
the
scene
.
And
then
they
look
away
,
some
of
them
crying
,
one
woman
throwing
up
into
the
ferns
on
the
side
of
the
road
.
And
even
though
they
don
’
t
know
who
we
are
or
what
has
happened
,
they
pray
for
us
.
I
can
feel
them
praying
.
Which
also
makes
me
think
I
’
m
dead
.
That
and
the
fact
my
body
seems
to
be
completely
numb
,
though
to
look
at
me
,
at
the
leg
that
the
60
mph
asphalt
exfoliant
has
pared
down
to
the
bone
,
I
should
be
in
agony
.
And
I
’
m
not
crying
,
either
,
even
though
I
know
that
something
unthinkable
has
just
happened
to
my
family
.
We
are
like
Humpty
Dumpty
and
all
these
king
’
s
horses
and
all
these
king
’
s
men
cannot
put
us
back
together
again
.
I
am
pondering
these
things
when
the
medic
with
the
freckles
and
red
hair
who
has
been
working
on
me
answers
my
question
.
"
Her
Glasgow
Coma
is
an
eight
.
Let
’
s
bag
her
now
!
"
she
screams
.
