Марсианские хроники
June 2003: Way in the Middle of the Air
Wheretheyhadbeencarefullysetdownandleft,inneatbundleseveryfewfeetalongtheemptycountryroad,wereoldrollerskates,abandannafullofknicknacks,someoldshoes,acartwheel,stacksofpantsandcoatsandancienthats,bitsoforientalcrystalthathadoncetinkledinthewind,tincansofpinkgeraniums,dishesofwaxedfruit,cartonsofConfederatemoney,washtubs,scrubboards,washlines,soap,somebody’stricycle,someoneelse’shedgeshears,atoywagon,ajack-in-the-box,astained-glasswindowfromtheNegroBaptistChurch,awholesetofbrakerims,innertubes,mattresses,couches,rockingchairs,jarsofcoldcream,handmirrors.Noneofitflungdown,no,butdepositedgentlyandwithfeeling,withdecorum,uponthedustyedgesoftheroad,asifawholecityhadwalkedherewithhandsfull,atwhichtimeagreatbronzetrumpethadsounded,thearticleshadbeenrelinquishedtothequietdust,andoneandall,theinhabitantsoftheearthhadfledstraightupintotheblueheavens.
"Wouldn’tburnthem,theysaid,"criedTeeceangrily."No,wouldn’tburnthemlikeIsaid,buthadtotakethemalongandleavethemwheretheycouldseethemforthelasttime,ontheroad,alltogetherandwhole.Themniggersthinkthey’resmart."
Heveeredthecarwildly,mileaftermile,downtheroad,tumbling,smashing,breaking,scatteringbundlesofpaper,jewelboxes,mirrors,chairs."There,bydamn,andthere!"
Thefronttiregaveawhistlingcry.Thecarspilledcrazilyofftheroadintoaditch,flingingTeeceagainsttheglass
