Franky Furbo. William Wharton. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: William Wharton
Издательство: HarperCollins
Серия:
Жанр произведения: Книги о войне
Год издания: 0
isbn: 9780007458158
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want to capture anyone who was well and healthy so I waited till I could find two humans, each speaking a different language, who were fighting each other but were about to die. When I found you and Wilhelm in that hole, I decided to take you two because I could see you would soon be dead anyway. Wilhelm is hurt even worse than you. But he is soon going to be well, too. One of the many skills I have is that I can heal others, better than any human doctor.’

      I watch his eyes. They show only kindness and intensity. I begin to feel myself relax, able to believe a little bit what I’m hearing. In a crazy way, it almost makes a kind of sense, at least as much sense as the dumb war does.

       ‘That’s good, William, now you are relaxing. It will help you become well sooner. I have only a little more to say now, then I want you to sleep.

       ‘I shall be asking questions, as well as reading your mind over the next while. I want to understand why humans do some of the things they do, especially war. I want you and Wilhelm to know each other, to speak to each other. I shall teach each of you the language of the other so you can share what you know. I shall also teach you another language, one that will make understanding, for all of us, much easier. I cannot teach you to read each other’s minds because it is probably impossible for humans to do that; but this language I shall teach you is the most complete communication possible for humans.

       ‘When you are well, when you want to, you may leave here and go back to your own people. I hope you don’t mind my having taken advantage of you this way, but I think it will be good for us all. Now, close your eyes and go to sleep.’

      With that he puts his cool paw on my forehead and slides it down over my eyes. I go to sleep, a deep sleep, immediately.

      I don’t know how much longer it is before I wake again. I feel much better. The traction has been removed. I’m stretched out on my bed, very relaxed, warm and with a happy feeling. I hear talking on the other side of the room.

      I turn my head, without pain, and see that the fox is sitting in a chair beside the Kraut’s bed, just as he had been with me before. I try to listen. They are talking German. I stare at the ceiling and want to put it all together. I’m beginning to feel nervous, frightened again.

      The next thing I know, the fox is leaning over me, smiling. He pulls the covers down and begins to feel over my body with his gentle paws. His eyes, his ears, seem to be concentrating on my body. When he finds a spot that still hurts, he covers it with his hands, makes it warm, and it doesn’t hurt anymore.

       ‘You’re coming along fine, William; you are almost completely healed. You will feel weak for a few days but with some good solid food you shall be on your feet soon.’

      I don’t know how to thank him. How do you thank a fox? What should I call him, Mr Fox? He’s checking the back of my neck now.

       ‘Don’t worry about it, William. My name is Franky Furbo. At least, that’s what I call myself. Foxes usually don’t have names. You may call me Franky, if you will. I’d like that.’

      ‘All right, Franky. Thank you for saving my life. You saved the life of that Kraut too, right? Whose side are you on?’

       ‘I don’t take sides, except I’m on the side of life. You two are now alive and are human, the closest creatures on this earth to myself I’ve found so far. There’s no need to thank me; my pleasure is in seeing you well.’

      There’s no answer I can think of to that.

      ‘Did I hear you speaking Kraut – I mean German – to that guy over there?’

       ‘That’s right. I can speak any language spoken on this earth; it’s a hobby of mine. Do you know there are more than six thousand languages spoken on this planet alone? I find it fascinating, also the way languages come about, how they’re constructed. It is easy for me to learn all these languages because of my special mind skills. Our German friend’s name is Wilhelm, the same as yours only in German. His full name is Wilhelm Klug. And your name is William Wiley. Is that right?’

      Of course it’s right. At first I think he’s read my dog tags, but then I remember the other German took them with him. It’s so weird being around someone, even if it is a fox, who knows everything in your head. It almost makes it not worth talking.

       ‘I’d like to teach you to speak German, William. It won’t take any time. I can also teach you everything that is in Wilhelm’s head so you can know him as well as he will know you. That way, I feel you can talk about this war and understand more of what it is supposed to be all about. Are you agreed?’

      By now, I’m so confused I’ll agree to anything. I nod my head.

       ‘All right then, just relax. You will feel a strange warmness and you won’t be able to see or hear for a few minutes, but then it will go away. It’s best if you close your eyes now.’

      Franky lowers his head close to mine. I close my eyes. It’s the way it was in the hole. I feel warmth, but this time going through my whole brain. There is a smell, almost of burnt almonds or the smell of the seed inside a peach stone. It seems to last only a few minutes. Then Franky leans back. He speaks to me.

       ‘Well, how did that feel? It wasn’t so bad, was it?’

       ‘It felt warm in my head and I smelled something peculiar. How should I feel?’

       ‘Listen to yourself.’

      Only then, I realize I’ve answered in German, and it was so familiar to me it sounded like English to my ears. I also realize I do know everything about Wilhelm, all he can remember about his own life. I know where he lived, about his wife, how he misses her. It’s almost as if they are my own memories, but more, as if it’s a movie I’m watching, only seeing it, not actually participating. I stare over at Wilhelm. I turn to Franky.

       ‘You did it. You actually did it. But can I still speak English?’

       ‘Certainly. Sometimes, at first, you might get confused and speak the wrong language, but that won’t last long. In time, your own language will control your German. It’s what you are, an American who speaks English as your home language.’

       ‘You haven’t done this with Wilhelm yet, have you?’

       ‘No. He isn’t quite strong enough, but in a few days he’ll be ready. I think now he would appreciate it if you would speak with him some when I am gone. He’s very lonesome and frightened.’

       ‘I never thought about that. He’s probably as scared as I am. In fact, I know he is, I can feel his feelings. He’s afraid of me even.’

       Franky pats me on the arm while his nose and whiskers quiver again.

       ‘Well, I’m going down to cook you a good meal. Would you like a big omelet with baked potatoes and carrots, all served with fresh homemade bread?’

      He knows I would, he knows everything about me. I smile. He leaves. I look over at Wilhelm. He’s staring at the ceiling and I can see tears flowing from his eyes. I speak and it comes out in German.

       ‘It’ll be all right, Wilhelm. Franky will make everything just fine. We would be dead if he hadn’t saved us, you know.’

      He lifts his head, stares at me.

       ‘You are German?! You are Bavarian, a Munchener?’

       ‘No, I am American.’