-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Нил Гейман
-
- Американские боги
-
- Стр. 278/641
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
This
walk
,
he
decided
,
was
a
mistake
.
But
he
was
already
three
or
four
minutes
from
the
apartment
,
and
the
bridge
over
the
lake
was
in
sight
.
It
made
as
much
sense
to
press
on
as
to
go
home
(
and
then
what
?
Call
a
taxi
on
the
dead
phone
?
Wait
for
spring
?
He
had
no
food
in
the
apartment
,
he
reminded
himself
)
.
He
kept
walking
,
revising
his
estimates
of
the
temperature
downward
as
he
walked
.
Minus
10
?
Minus
20
?
Minus
40
,
maybe
,
that
strange
point
on
the
thermometer
when
Celsius
and
Fahrenheit
say
the
same
thing
.
Probably
not
that
cold
.
But
then
there
was
wind
chill
,
and
the
wind
was
now
hard
and
steady
and
continuous
,
blowing
over
the
lake
,
coming
down
from
the
Arctic
across
Canada
.
He
remembered
,
enviously
,
the
chemical
hand
-
and
footwarmers
he
had
taken
from
the
men
in
the
black
train
.
He
wished
he
had
them
now
.
Ten
more
minutes
of
walking
,
he
guessed
,
and
the
bridge
seemed
to
be
no
nearer
.
He
was
too
cold
to
shiver
.
His
eyes
hurt
.
This
was
not
simply
cold
:
this
was
science
fiction
.
This
was
a
story
set
on
the
dark
side
of
Mercury
,
back
when
they
thought
Mercury
had
a
dark
side
.
This
was
somewhere
out
on
rocky
Pluto
,
where
the
sun
is
just
another
star
,
shining
only
a
little
more
brightly
in
the
darkness
.
This
,
thought
Shadow
,
is
just
a
hair
away
from
the
places
where
air
comes
in
buckets
and
pours
just
like
beer
.
The
occasional
cars
that
roared
past
him
seemed
unreal
:
spaceships
,
little
freeze
-
dried
packages
of
metal
and
glass
,
inhabited
by
people
dressed
more
warmly
than
he
was
.
An
old
song
his
mother
had
loved
,
"
Winter
Wonderland
,
"
began
to
run
through
his
head
,
and
he
hummed
it
through
closed
lips
,
kept
pace
to
it
as
he
walked
.
He
had
lost
all
sensation
in
his
feet
.
He
looked
down
at
his
black
leather
shoes
,
at
the
thin
cotton
socks
,
and
began
,
seriously
,
to
worry
about
frostbite
.
This
was
beyond
a
joke
.
This
had
moved
beyond
foolishness
,
slipped
over
the
line
into
genuine
twenty
-
four
-
karat
Jesus
-
Christ
-
I
-
fucked
-
up
-
big
-
time
territory
.
His
clothes
might
as
well
have
been
netting
or
lace
:
the
wind
blew
through
him
,
froze
his
bones
and
the
marrow
in
his
bones
,
froze
the
lashes
of
his
eyes
,
froze
the
warm
place
under
his
balls
,
which
were
retreating
into
his
pelvic
cavity
.
Keep
walking
,
he
told
himself
.
Keep
walking
.
I
can
stop
and
drink
a
pail
of
air
when
I
get
home
.
A
Beatles
song
started
in
his
head
,
and
he
adjusted
his
pace
to
match
it
.
It
was
only
when
he
got
to
the
chorus
that
he
realized
that
he
was
humming
"
Help
!
"