Уловка 22

Snowden

           Yossarianhatedstewedtomatoesandturnedawaydizzilyandbegantovomit,clutchinghisburningthroat.ThetailgunnerwokeupwhileYossarianwasvomiting,sawhim,andfaintedagain.Yossarianwaslimpwithexhaustion,painanddespairwhenhefinished.HeturnedbackweaklytoSnowden,whosebreathhadgrownsofterandmorerapid,andwhosefacehadgrownpaler.Hewonderedhowintheworldtobegintosavehim.

           "I’mcold,"Snowdenwhimpered."I’mcold."

           "There,there,"Yossarianmumbledmechanicallyinavoicetoolowtobeheard."There,there."Yossarianwascold,too,andshiveringuncontrollably.HefeltgoosepimplesclackingalloverhimashegazeddowndespondentlyatthegrimsecretSnowdenhadspilledalloverthemessyfloor.Itwaseasytoreadthemessageinhisentrails.Manwasmatter,thatwasSnowden’ssecret.Drophimoutawindowandhe’llfall.Setfiretohimandhe’llburn.Buryhimandhe’llrot,likeotherkindsofgarbage.Thespiritgone,manisgarbage.ThatwasSnowden’ssecret.Ripenesswasall.

           "I’mcold,"Snowdensaid."I’mcold."

           "There,there,"saidYossarian."There,there."HepulledtheripcordofSnowden’sparachuteandcoveredhisbodywiththewhitenylonsheets.

           "I’mcold."

           "There,there.’

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