Марсианские хроники

           Shewasabouttoracedownthehillwhenshestoppedherself,Shewassupposedtostayhere,gonowhere,Thedoctorwascomingtovisit,andherhusbandwouldbeangryifsheranoff.

           Shewaitedinthedoor,breathingrapidly,herhandout.

           ShestrainedtoseeovertowardGreenValley,butsawnothing.

           Sillywoman.Shewentinside.Youandyourimagination,shethought.Thatwasnothingbutabird,aleaf,thewind,orafishinthecanal.Sitdown.Rest.

           Shesatdown.

           Ashotsounded.

           Veryclearly,sharply,thesoundoftheevilinsectweapon.

           Herbodyjerkedwithit.

           Itcamefromalongwayoff,Oneshot.Theswifthummingdistantbees.Oneshot.Andthenasecondshot,preciseandcold,andfaraway.

           Herbodywincedagainandforsomereasonshestartedup,screaming,andscreaming,andneverwantingtostopscreaming.Sheranviolentlythroughthehouseandoncemorethrewwidethedoor.

           Theechoesweredyingaway,away.

           Gone.

           Shewaitedintheyard,herfacepale,forfiveminutes.

           Finally,withslowsteps,herheaddown,shewanderedaboutthepillaredrooms,layingherhandtothings,herlipsquivering,untilfinallyshesataloneinthedarkeningwineroom,waiting.Shebegantowipeanamberglasswiththehemofherscarf.

           Andthen,fromfaroff,thesoundoffootstepscrunchingonthethin,smallrocks.

           Sheroseuptostandinthecenterofthequietroom.Theglassfellfromherfingers,smashingtobits.

           Thefootstepshesitatedoutsidethedoor.

           Shouldshespeak?Shouldshecryout,"Comein,oh,comein"?

           Shewentforwardafewpaces.