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In the morning the Calders have to eat breakfast in the dining room, with all the leaves in the table. All of Lev's brothers and sisters are there. Only a few of them still live at home, but today they've all come over for breakfast. All of them, that is, except Marcus.

Yet, for such a large family it's unusually quiet, and the clatter of silverware on china makes the lack of conversation even more conspicuous.

Lev, dressed in his silk tithing whites, eats carefully, so as not to leave any stains on his clothes. After breakfast, the good-byes are long, full of hugs and kisses. It's the worst part. Lev wishes they would all just let him go and get the good-byes over with.

Pastor Dan arrives—he's come at Lev's request—and once he's there, the good-byes move more quickly. Nobody wants to waste the pastor's valuable time.

Lev is the first one out in his Dad's Cadillac, and although he tries not to look back as his father starts the car and drives away, he can't help it. He watches as his home disappears behind them.

I will never see that home again, he thinks, but he pushes the thought out of his mind. It's unproductive, unhelpful, selfish. He looks at Pastor Dan, who sits beside him in the backseat watching him, and the pastor smiles.

"It's all right, Lev," he says. Just hearing him say it makes it so.

"How far is the harvest camp?" Lev asks to whoever cares to. answer.

"It's about an hour from here," his Mom says.

"And . . . will they do it right away?"

His parents look to each other. "I'm sure there'll be an orientation," says his father.

That short answer makes it clear to Lev that they don't know any more than he does.

As they pull onto the interstate, Lev rolls down the window to feel the wind on his face, and closes his eyes to prepare himself.

This is what I was born for. It's what I've lived my life for. I am chosen. I am blessed. And I am happy.

Suddenly his father slams on the brakes.

With his eyes closed, Lev doesn't see the reason for their unexpected stop.

He just feels the sharp deceleration of the Cadillac and the pull of the seat belt on his shoulder. He opens his eyes to see they have stopped on the interstate. Police lights flash. And—was that a gunshot he just heard?

"What's going on?"

Then, just outside his window is another kid, a few years older than him. He looks scared. He looks dangerous. Lev reaches over to quickly put up his window, but before he can this kid reaches in, pulls up the lock on the door, and tugs the door open. Lev is frozen. He doesn't know what to do. "Mom? Dad?" he calls.

The boy with murder in his eyes tugs on Lev's white silk shirt, trying to pull him out of the car, but the seat belt holds him tight.

"What are you doing? Leave me alone!"

Lev's mom screams for his father to do something, but he's fumbling with his own seat belt.

The maniac reaches over and in one swift motion unclips Lev's seat belt.

Pastor Dan grabs at the intruder, who responds with a quick powerful punch—a jab right at Pastor Dan's jaw. The shock of seeing such violence distracts Lev at a crucial moment. The maniac tugs on him again, and this time Lev falls out of the car, hitting his head on the pavement. When he looks up he sees his father finally getting out of the car, but the crazy kid swings the car door hard against him, sending him flying.

"Dad!" His father lands in the path of an oncoming car. The car swerves and, thank God, it misses him—but it cuts off another car, hitting it, that car spins out of control, and the sound of crashes fills the air. Lev is pulled to his feet again by the kid, who grabs Lev's arm and drags him off. Lev is small for his age. This kid is a couple of years older, and much bigger. Lev can't break free.

"Stop!" yells Lev. "You can have whatever you want. Take my wallet," he says, even though he has no wallet. "Take the car. Just don't hurt anyone."

The kid considers the car, but only for an instant. Bullets now fly past them.

On the southbound roadway are policemen who have finally stopped traffic on their side of the interstate, and have made it to the median dividing the north and southbound lanes. The closest officer fires again. A tranq bullet hits the Cadillac and splatters.

The crazy kid now puts Lev into a choke hold, holding Lev between himself and the officers. Lev realizes that he doesn't want a car, or money: He wants a hostage.

"Stop struggling—I've got a gun!" And Lev feels the kid poke him in the side. Lev knows it's not a gun—he knows it's just the kid's finger, but this is clearly an unstable individual, and he doesn't want to set him off.

"I'm worthless as a human shield," Lev says, trying to reason with him. "Those are tranq bullets they're shooting, which means the cops don't care if they hit me—they'll just knock me out."

"Better you than me."

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 Те, кто помнит прежние времена, знают, что самой редкой книжкой в знаменитой «мировской» серии «Зарубежная фантастика» был сборник Роберта Шекли «Паломничество на Землю». За книгой охотились, платили спекулянтам немыслимые деньги, гордились обладанием ею, а неудачники, которых сборник обошел стороной, завидовали счастливцам. Одни считают, что дело в небольшом тираже, другие — что книга была изъята по цензурным причинам, но, думается, правда не в этом. Откройте издание 1966 года наугад на любой странице, и вас затянет водоворот фантазии, где весело, где ни тени скуки, где мудрость не рядится в строгую судейскую мантию, а хитрость, глупость и прочие житейские сорняки всегда остаются с носом. В этом весь Шекли — мудрый, светлый, веселый мастер, который и рассмешит, и подскажет самый простой ответ на любой из самых трудных вопросов, которые задает нам жизнь.

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Фантастика / Боевик / Детективы / Самиздат, сетевая литература / Социально-психологическая фантастика