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The Wind Page 2


  There was a soft, faint stirring at the door.

  Everybody in the room tensed and straightened up.

  «Who could that be?» asked his wife.

  The soft stirring was repeated, very quietly.

  Thompson hurried down the hall where he stopped, alert.

  Outside, faintly, he heard laughter.

  «I'll be damned,» said Thompson. He put his hand on the doorknob, pleasantly shocked and relieved. «I'd know that laugh anywhere. It's Allin. He came on over in his car, after all. Couldn't wait until morning to tell me his confounded stories.» Thompson smiled weakly. «Probably brought some friends with him. Sounds like a lot of other…»

  He opened the front door.

  The porch was empty.

  Thompson showed no surprise; his face grew amused and sly. He laughed. «Allin? None of your tricks now! Come on.» He switched on the porch-light and peered out and around. «Where are you, Allin? Come on, now.»

  A breeze blew into his face.

  Thompson waited a moment, suddenly chilled to his marrow. He stepped out on the porch and looked uneasily, and very carefully, about.

  A sudden wind caught and whipped his coat flaps, disheveled his hair. He thought he heard laughter again. The wind rounded the house and was a pressure everywhere at once, and then, storming for a full minute, passed on.

  The wind died down, sad, mourning in the high trees, passing away; going back out to the sea, to the Celebes, to the Ivory Coast, to Sumatra and Cape Horn, to Cornwall and the Philippines. Fading, fading, fading.

  Thompson stood there, cold. He went in and closed the door and leaned against it, and didn't move, eyes closed.

  «What's wrong…?» asked his wife.

  FB2 document info

  Document ID: 594fc275-4d91-4c62-ab33-3c2a1229387c

  Document version: 1

  Document creation date: 24 May 2011

  Created using: FictionBook Editor Release 2.6 software

  Document authors :

  SC

  Source URLs :

  http://raybradbury.ru/library/originals/

  Document history:

  1.0 — создание файла

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