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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- 451 по фаренгейту
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- Стр. 138/158
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He
touched
it
,
just
to
be
sure
it
was
real
.
He
waded
in
and
stripped
in
darkness
to
the
skin
,
splashed
his
body
,
arms
,
legs
,
and
head
with
raw
liquor
;
drank
it
and
snuffed
some
up
his
nose
.
Then
he
dressed
in
Faber
's
old
clothes
and
shoes
.
He
tossed
his
own
clothing
into
the
river
and
watched
it
swept
away
.
Then
,
holding
the
suitcase
,
he
walked
out
in
the
river
until
there
was
no
bottom
and
he
was
swept
away
in
the
dark
.
He
was
three
hundred
yards
downstream
when
the
Hound
reached
the
river
.
Overhead
the
great
racketing
fans
of
the
helicopters
hovered
.
A
storm
of
light
fell
upon
the
river
and
Montag
dived
under
the
great
illumination
as
if
the
sun
had
broken
the
clouds
.
He
felt
the
river
pull
him
further
on
its
way
,
into
darkness
.
Then
the
lights
switched
back
to
the
land
,
the
helicopters
swerved
over
the
city
again
,
as
if
they
had
picked
up
another
trail
.
They
were
gone
.
The
Hound
was
gone
.
Now
there
was
only
the
cold
river
and
Montag
floating
in
a
sudden
peacefulness
,
away
from
the
city
and
the
lights
and
the
chase
,
away
from
everything
.
He
felt
as
if
he
had
left
a
stage
behind
and
many
actors
.
He
felt
as
if
he
had
left
the
great
seance
and
all
the
murmuring
ghosts
.
He
was
moving
from
an
unreality
that
was
frightening
into
a
reality
that
was
unreal
because
it
was
new
.
The
black
land
slid
by
and
he
was
going
into
the
country
among
the
hills
:
For
the
first
time
in
a
dozen
years
the
stars
were
coming
out
above
him
,
in
great
processions
of
wheeling
fire
.
He
saw
a
great
juggernaut
of
stars
form
in
the
sky
and
threaten
to
roll
over
and
crush
him
.
He
floated
on
his
back
when
the
valise
filled
and
sank
;
the
river
was
mild
and
leisurely
,
going
away
from
the
people
who
ate
shadows
for
breakfast
and
steam
for
lunch
and
vapours
for
supper
.
The
river
was
very
real
;
it
held
him
comfortably
and
gave
him
the
time
at
last
,
the
leisure
,
to
consider
this
month
,
this
year
,
and
a
lifetime
of
years
.
He
listened
to
his
heart
slow
.
His
thoughts
stopped
rushing
with
his
blood
.
He
saw
the
moon
low
in
the
sky
now
.
The
moon
there
,
and
the
light
of
the
moon
caused
by
what
?
By
the
sun
,
of
course
.
And
what
lights
the
sun
?
Its
own
fire
.
And
the
sun
goes
on
,
day
after
day
,
burning
and
burning
.
The
sun
and
time
.
The
sun
and
time
and
burning
.
Burning
.
The
river
bobbled
him
along
gently
.
Burning
.
The
sun
and
every
clock
on
the
earth
.
It
all
came
together
and
became
a
single
thing
in
his
mind
.
After
a
long
time
of
floating
on
the
land
and
a
short
time
of
floating
in
the
river
he
knew
why
he
must
never
burn
again
in
his
life
.
The
sun
burned
every
day
.
It
burned
Time
.
The
world
rushed
in
a
circle
and
turned
on
its
axis
and
time
was
busy
burning
the
years
and
the
people
anyway
,
without
any
help
from
him
.
So
if
he
burnt
things
with
the
firemen
,
and
the
sun
burnt
Time
,
that
meant
that
everything
burned
!
One
of
them
had
to
stop
burning
.
The
sun
would
n't
,
certainly
.
So
it
looked
as
if
it
had
to
be
Montag
and
the
people
he
had
worked
with
until
a
few
short
hours
ago
.
Somewhere
the
saving
and
putting
away
had
to
begin
again
and
someone
had
to
do
the
saving
and
keeping
,
one
way
or
another
,
in
books
,
in
records
,
in
people
's
heads
,
any
way
at
all
so
long
as
it
was
safe
,
free
from
moths
,
silver-fish
,
rust
and
dry-rot
,
and
men
with
matches
.
The
world
was
full
of
burning
of
all
types
and
sizes
.
Now
the
guild
of
the
asbestos-weaver
must
open
shop
very
soon
.
