"Its owner's bound to come running."
"Well, what of it?"
"What of it! Why, he'll raise the alarm! And then run off to complain
about us."
"Who to?" asked Vitalka gloatingly. "And what will he say? 'Two louts
flew up and grabbed the bicycle...' "What were they on?' 'A flying
carpet!' And then he'll be told to go along to the hospital for a
check-up!"
I burst out laughing. Yes, who indeed would believe him?
Among the various bits and pieces in our watchtower we had a clothes
line, which we now fished out and tied a loop at one end. Then we carried
the carpet onto the roof and laid it out.
"I'll pilot it. I know how," whispered Vitalka.
"Right then."
We swooped down into the yard, hopped over the hedge into the
neighbours' vegetable garden and skimmed over the black-currant bushes.
After glancing round and checking if the coast was clear, we slipped into
the shadows and "hopped" over another hedge. After making sure there was
nobody in the next lane either, we swept down its long fence so close to
the ground that the grass rustled underneath us.
And then we flew across some more yards and vegetable plots, sticking
close to the shadowy fences and rustling bushes.
Here and there women were working on their vegetable-beds but they
did not look round. And only once a little boy called out joyfully,
"Mummy, look!"
But we, of course, did not wait around for his mother to do so.
Razikov's house stood in the middle of a spacious yard. Stretched
between the porch and the gate was a wire with a chain running over it,
and at the other end of the chain sat a huge, ferocious-looking
muddy-grey dog.
We slipped into the farthest corner and hid in the shadows of the
shed.
Razikov was nowhere to be seen. A blue bicycle was standing by the
porch. Vitalka got the rope ready and said, "Let's go!"
We flew up and hovered next to the roof above the bicycle. The
carpet's shadow fell directly on the dog. It lifted its head, sat up,
silently leapt about three feet in the air, crashed down and let out a
gurgling bark.
"Yap, yap," said Vitalka intrepidly and then lowered the loop over
the handlebars and pulled. The dog was frantic. I suddenly wondered
anxiously if the carpet would hold the extra weight but it did without
even wobbling.
Then Razikov came running from the gate, brandishing a hammer.
"Help me," said Vitalka.
I grabbed hold of the rope, too, and we flew slowly over the yard
with the bicycle twirling on the rope about a metre off the ground.
Razikov tried to grab one of its wheels but missed. It was only then
that he realised something incredible was happening.
"Oh!" he gasped loudly and sat down with his bony legs spread out
wide.
We pulled the bicycle up and laid it on the carpet. The old man
suddenly squealed with laughter, wagged his finger menacingly and threw
his hammer at us.
The hammer dropped down and hit him on the foot and he let out a
muffled howl and clutched onto his foot. And that was the last we saw of
him before diving into a neighbouring yard and speeding home along the
same route.
No sooner had we landed in our yard than Auntie Valya came out onto
the porch and asked, "Boys, whatever are you doing with the carpet?"
"We've decide to clean it some more," Vitalka lied quickly and beat
the carpet with his palms.
"But where did you get that bicycle from?"
"It belongs to a girl who asked us to mend it."
"That's all well and good," remarked Auntie Valya. "But why put a
dirty bicycle on the carpet? Especially as you're cleaning it..."
After taking the carpet back to our watchtower, we fiddled about with
the bike for a while for form's sake and then wheeled it outside the
gate. Vitalka got onto the saddle and I sat in front of him on the
frame. Three minutes later we rolled up at Vetka's house.
We called out her name and she opened a window and jumped out into
the front garden.
At the sight of the bicycle she gasped. Her green eyes began
sparkling with joy and her face lit up in a lovely smile. Why was it I
had thought her mouth was like a frog's? It wasn't in the slightest.
"How did you do it?" she asked quietly.
Vitalka glanced enquiringly at me and I shrugged my shoulders to show
it was up to him.
"You won't tell anyone?" he asked her. "It's a real secret..."
If she had started gushing and making promises, we would certainly
have invented something but she simply said, "Of course not! I'm not a
chatter-box!"
"All right," Vitalka decided. "Come on."
And then there were three of us.
Chapter Six
When I first started writing this story, I felt an irresistible urge
to make something up. For instance, I would describe how Vitalka and I
had a row once and how the carpet stopped obeying us. Or I could have
even invented how after our row we cut the carpet up so that each of us
had his own half. And then, it goes without saying, it would not fly, and
we realised we had ruined the best adventure of our childhood because of
some stupid quarrel, and, of course, made it up but it was too late...
This would make an instructive ending but it would not be true.
Vitalka and I never had rows. Well, at the worst we sometimes argued
a little and called each other all sorts of strange names but you could
hardly call that rows, could you?
And we never had a quarrel with Vetka either.
She turned out to be a marvellous pal. She looked ever so quiet and
even rather scared but was, in fact, not at all timid and, on the
contrary, had a strong character.
... Later that day we showed her the magic carpet and then flew over
to fetch her at midnight.
"Oh, I'm so nervous," she said in a hushed voice after jumping out
the window.
"There's no need to be scared," Vitalka said reassuringly. "We won't
fly high until you've got used to it."
But she said, "I don't mean that. It's just that Mummy might wake
up..."
We burst out laughing for it seemed she was more scared of her mother
than of flying.
She looked at us in turn, cocking her head on its thin neck like a
bird, and then started laughing too...
We flew straight up into the sky from Vetka's front garden. How high
we flew! And the rustling air, now ever so warm and now bracing and
chilly, rushed past us. And the town, girded by the river, opened up
below us again. And on the river were little black ships with twinkling
red and green lights. Large ruby-coloured lights were shining on the
television transmission tower and yellow ones were gleaming in the
streets and in houses whose occupants were still awake.
We came to a standstill, and the air stopped rustling and puckering
our shirts, and softly and caressingly enveloped us, warming us up. It
was very quiet.
We clasped Vetka's hot hands and she stood up beside us.
"How beautiful the earth is," she said. "And the sky, too. It's even
better."
Glowing beyond the river and the dark mists of the wooded horizon to
the north was the yellow dawn, and higher up floated a transparent cloud,
and slightly to one side, scarcely visible, was the silver sickle of the
young moon. And higher still in the indigo grey sky were two blazing
white stars.
We drifted very slowly north.
"I've been learning a dance called 'The Little Star' for a concert,"
Vetka suddenly said in a whisper. "Do you know why I thought of it?
Because of these stars."
"Well, dance then," said Vitalka seriously. "With a name like that,
the dance is meant for the sky."
She never tried being coy and making excuses as girls usually do, and
only said, "But how can I without music?"
"Well, just think of it and imagine it's playing," I advised.
"I can but what about you?"
"We'll do it, too."
"Well... but are you really serious? You won't laugh?"
"Of course not!" said Vitalka.
We moved right back to the edge of the carpet and Vetka stood on the
other edge which at once rose solicitously.
Of course, not being used to such an altitude, she felt scared. She
had been all right as long as we held her hands but now she found herself
alone with nothing but stars and sky all around... However, she was a
brave girl and, perhaps, really imagined she was a star or thought it was
all a dream and in dreams you sometimes get over your fear of heights.
At first she stood hugging her shoulders and then flung out her arms
and began spinning round. I don't know whether she danced well and I
simply could not imagine what the music was like. She wore a yellow dress
and it looked as if a large shiny butterfly was fluttering over the edge
of the flying carpet...
Well, no matter what she looked like. As long as I live I shall never
forget how a girl danced in the glowing sky of a summer night, high above
the slumbering earth...
Panting slightly, she sat down beside us.
"You were great," said Vitalka.
And I told her so, too, and you could see she was delighted. When she
got her breath back, she said cheerfully, "If I become a ballerina when I
grow up, I'll tell everyone how I danced 'The Little Star' in the real
sky... Oh," she glanced anxiously at Vitalka and me. "No, I won't, I
promise. I just forgot for a moment that it was a secret."
"You can if you like," said Vitalka. "It won't matter then... But are
you really going to be a ballerina?"
Vetka's thin shoulders rose slightly.
"I realise that's what almost all girls dream of. Only it's very hard
you know. On stage it seems lovely and easy but it's really a hard
slog... Day in day out... I don't know if I'll make it..."
"You will!" said Vitalka.
We went flying every night, sometimes with Vetka and sometimes
without. Vetka was frightened her family would find out about her
nocturnal adventures. Her father was easy-going and kind but her mother
was quick-tempered. It was hard to believe that Vetka was this
loud-voiced, red-faced woman's daughter.
We realised Vetka might get into hot water and so did not press her.
You would be wrong to think we simply rode high over the town: we
tested out carpet. We would lie face downwards, hold tight to the
carpet's front edge and fly faster and faster. Rushing towards us, the
air tried to tear our clothes off and knock us off the carpet. Vitalka
called this an "earripping speed".
We could not fly like this for long because the wind took away our
breath, and our ears really seemed to be about to be ripped off.
One night we got ready for a high-altitude flight, put on our
sweaters, ski trousers, and winter hats and flew straight up into the sky
from the roof. At first everything seemed just the same as usual except
that we kept climbing higher and higher. We were not afraid because we
had complete faith in our carpet but, all the same, my heart was faster
and faster - perhaps because the air was getting thinner.
I don't know how high we climbed for we had no instruments. From
above, the town looked almost the same as it had on previous flights
except that the lights of the TV tower had blended with all the other
little lights. The horizon became very hazy and began to curve upwards
like the edge of an enormous saucer. And as always a thin crescent moon
was shining serenely above this misty edge.
It became hard to breathe and the air grew cold and even began
smelling of winter. Icy cold forced its way through our sweaters. We
stubbornly flew on for a few more minutes and then Vitalka sighed and
said, "I've had it... The carpet's fine! It will probably make it to the
moon but we won't..."
"If only we could get hold of some space suits... we'd be able to go
into space..." I muttered through chattering teeth.
"Where from?.."
A space suit isn't like a fancy-dress costume: you can't make it out
of cardboard. We were perfectly aware of this.
Well, after all, it wasn't the carpet's fault. It was we who could
not fly any higher. Even pilots can only fly so high.
And so we swooped sharply down into the warm air and towards the
trees, and the lights in the houses and the kind old earth which we could
not live without...
Several times we saw in the sun rise.
The hazy horizon merged with the sky and the flaky clouds along its
edges, light grey and greyish-blue, became golden, orange and mauve.
Other, on the contrary, grew darker and became deep lilac. Then the sun's
crimson edge appeared above the lowest layer of cloud, quickly growing
lighter and more dazzling and shooting straight white rays into the
middle of the sky. And high up the invisible clouds were at once flooded
with the sunlight.
And we were soon bathing in sunlight, too.
"Hurrah!" we shouted and Vitalka jumped up and burst into song,
making up the words as he went along:
We're flying over the town,
And nobody will ever reach us!
Because we're flying highest of all!
So long live the sun
Because we were the ones
to see it first!
We are the Flying Wanderers
Because we can fly as fast as the wind!
We're already in the sun
while it's still dark in the town!
But here it's already morning!
The town really was still asleep in the twilight of approaching dawn.
The rays of sunlight had not yet reached the roofs and even the high
belfry was still in shadows.
But we were already in the sun!
Orange on account of the sun's rays and his suntan, Vitalka would
stand on the edge of the carpet, waving his arms and singing his song.
It once occurred to me that Vitalka looked like the first perky
cockerel to crow at dawn. There was no mockery in this comparison, I was
delighted with the thought. With his hair blazing in the sun, Vitalka
really did look like a golden cockerel.
"How long can you go on sleeping?" asked Auntie Valya in amazement.
"I just can't wake you up!"
No wonder! We had only gone to sleep at dawn.
Even if we flew a short while and got to bed earlier, we still could
not drop off straightaway as we were tingling all over with joy of
Новинки >> Русской фантастики (по файлам) | Форумов | Фэндома | Книг