Марсианские хроники

           "Goon,"hecalledinaloudwhisperwhichnooneheard."I’llgiveyouthirtysecondsmoretogetaway.Thirtyseconds!"

           Thewatchtickedonhiswrist,Thecaptainwatchedittick.Themenwererunning.Spenderdidnotmove.Thewatchtickedforalongtime,veryloudlyinthecaptain’sears."Goon,Spender,goon,getaway!"

           Thethirtysecondswereup.

           Thegunwassighted.Thecaptaindrewadeepbreath."Spender,"hesaid,exhaling.

           Hepulledthetrigger.

           Allthathappenedwasthatafaintpowderingofrockwentupinthesunlight.Theechoesofthereportfaded.

           Thecaptainaroseandcalledtohismen:"He’sdead."

           Theothermendidnotbelieveit.Theirangleshadpreventedtheirseeingthatparticular.fissureintherocks.Theysawtheircaptainrunupthehill,alone,andthoughthimeitherverybraveorinsane.

           Themencameafterhimafewminuteslater.

           Theygatheredaroundthebodyandsomeonesaid,"Inthechest?"

           Thecaptainlookeddown."Inthechest,"hesaid,HesawhowtherockshadchangedcolorunderSpender."Iwonderwhyhewaited.Iwonderwhyhedidn’tescapeasheplanned.Iwonderwhyhestayedonandgothimselfkilled."

           "Whoknows?"someonesaid.

           Spenderlaythere,hishandsclasped,onearoundthegun,theotheraroundthesilverbookthatglitteredinthesun.

           Wasitbecauseofme?thoughtthecaptain.