-
Главная
-
- Книги
-
- Авторы
-
- Рэй Брэдбери
-
- Марсианские хроники
-
- Стр. 203/287
Для того чтобы воспользоваться озвучкой предложений, необходимо
Войти или зарегистрироваться
Озвучка предложений доступна при наличии PRO-доступа
Купить PRO-доступ
"
Don
’
t
move
,
LaFarge
!
"
Spaulding
had
a
gun
.
And
now
it
was
evident
what
had
happened
.
Tom
flashing
through
the
moonlit
streets
,
alone
,
passing
people
.
A
policeman
seeing
the
figure
dart
past
.
The
policeman
pivoting
,
staring
at
the
face
,
calling
a
name
,
giving
pursuit
"
You
,
stop
!
"
Seeing
a
criminal
face
.
All
along
the
way
,
the
same
thing
,
men
here
,
women
there
,
night
watchmen
,
rocket
pilots
.
The
swift
figure
meaning
everything
to
them
,
all
identities
,
all
persons
,
all
names
.
How
many
different
names
had
been
uttered
in
the
last
five
minutes
?
How
many
different
faces
shaped
over
Tom
’
s
face
,
all
wrong
?
All
down
the
way
the
pursued
and
the
pursuing
,
the
dream
and
the
dreamers
,
the
quarry
and
the
hounds
.
All
down
the
way
the
sudden
revealment
,
the
flash
of
familiar
eyes
,
the
cry
of
an
old
,
old
name
,
the
remembrances
of
other
times
,
the
crowd
multiplying
.
Everyone
leaping
forward
as
,
like
an
image
reflected
from
ten
thousand
mirrors
,
ten
thousand
eyes
,
the
running
dream
came
and
went
,
a
different
face
to
those
ahead
,
those
behind
,
those
yet
to
be
met
,
those
unseen
.
And
here
they
all
are
now
,
at
the
boat
,
wanting
the
dream
for
their
own
,
just
as
we
want
him
to
be
Tom
,
not
Lavinia
or
William
or
Roger
or
any
other
,
thought
LaFarge
.
But
it
’
s
all
done
now
.
The
thing
has
gone
too
far
.
"
Come
up
,
all
of
you
!
"
Spaulding
ordered
them
.
Tom
stepped
up
from
the
boat
.
Spaulding
seized
his
wrist
.
"
You
’
re
coming
home
with
me
.
I
know
.
"
"
Wait
,
"
said
the
policeman
.
"
He
’
s
my
prisoner
.
Name
’
s
Dexter
;
wanted
for
murder
.
"
"
No
!
"
a
woman
sobbed
.
"
It
’
s
my
husband
!
I
guess
I
know
my
husband
!
"
Other
voices
objected
.
The
crowd
moved
in
.
