Читать книгу The Science Fiction Anthology онлайн

639 страница из 776

Remembering the pig, it was impossible not to feel a cold seed of belief. Amos dreaded what was coming next; clearly, it would be a demonstration.

Barnes held out his hand, palm up. In a few seconds a pink spot appeared. It turned red, oozed dismayingly, and became a small pool of blood. Barnes let it stay for a moment, then wiped it off with a handkerchief. There was no more bleeding. “That’s something I can do fast,” he said. “I opened the pores, directed blood to them, then closed them again. Amos, do you believe in werewolves?”

Amos wanted to jump up and shout, “No! You’re insane!” but he could only sit staring.

“I could move that thumb around to the other side of my hand,” Barnes said thoughtfully. “I’m still exploring, but I don’t think even the bone would take too long. You’ll notice I don’t need glasses any more.”

The buzzer buzzed. Amos jumped, and from habit answered. “Bill Detrick and that customer are here, Mr. Parry,” came Alice Grant’s voice.

“I—ask them to wait,” he managed.