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- Рэй Брэдбери
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- 451 по фаренгейту
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The
train
door
whistled
open
.
Montag
stood
.
The
door
gasped
,
started
shut
.
Only
then
did
he
leap
past
the
other
passengers
,
screaming
in
his
mind
,
plunge
through
the
slicing
door
only
in
time
.
He
ran
on
the
white
tiles
up
through
the
tunnels
,
ignoring
the
escalators
,
because
he
wanted
to
feel
his
feet-move
,
arms
swing
,
lungs
clench
,
unclench
,
feel
his
throat
go
raw
with
air
.
A
voice
drifted
after
him
,
"
Denham
's
Denham
's
Denham
's
,
"
the
train
hissed
like
a
snake
.
The
train
vanished
in
its
hole
.
"
Who
is
it
?
"
"
Montag
out
here
.
"
"
What
do
you
want
?
"
"
Let
me
in
.
"
"
I
have
n't
done
anything
!
"
"
I
'm
alone
,
dammit
!
"
"
You
swear
it
?
"
"
I
swear
!
"
The
front
door
opened
slowly
.
Faber
peered
out
,
looking
very
old
in
the
light
and
very
fragile
and
very
much
afraid
.
The
old
man
looked
as
if
he
had
not
been
out
of
the
house
in
years
.
He
and
the
white
plaster
walls
inside
were
much
the
same
.
There
was
white
in
the
flesh
of
his
mouth
and
his
cheeks
and
his
hair
was
white
and
his
eyes
had
faded
,
with
white
in
the
vague
blueness
there
.
Then
his
eyes
touched
on
the
book
under
Montag
's
arm
and
he
did
not
look
so
old
any
more
and
not
quite
as
fragile
.
Slowly
his
fear
went
.
