Рэй Брэдбери: Perchance to Dream (Asleep in Armageddon)

«No,» said Sale, face melting with terror. «No spend night ―»

He couldn't talk. He fell to the ground.

«Quick!» said a voice, in the bleary vortex over him. «Give him a shot of food liquid, another of sedative. He needs sustenance and rest.»

«No rest!» screamed Sale.

«Delirious,» said one man, softly.

«No sleep!» screamed Sale.

«There, there,» said the man gently. A needle poked into Sale's arm.

Sale thrashed. «No sleep, go!» he mouthed horribly. «Oh, go!»

«Delirious,» said one man. «Shock.»

«No sedatives!» screamed Sale.

The sedative flowed into him.

Eeeeeeeee, sang the ancient winds.

Ahhhhhhhhhh, sang the ancient seas.

«No sedative, no sleep, please, don't, don't, don't!» screamed Sale, trying to get up. «You — don't understand!»

«Take it easy, old man, you're safe among us now, nothing to worry about,» said the rescuer above him.

Leonard Sale slept. The two men stood over him.

As they watched. Sale's features changed violently. He groaned and cried and snarled in his sleep. His face was riven with emotion. It was the face of a saint, a sinner, a fiend, a monster, a darkness, a light, one, many, an army, a vacuum, all all!

He writhed in his sleep.

Eeeeeeeee! the sound burst from his mouth. Ahhhhhhhhhh! he screamed.

«What's wrong with him?» asked one of the two rescuers.

«I don't know. More sedatives?»

«More sedatives. Nerves. He needs more sleep.»

They stuck the needle in his arm. Sale writhed and spat and moaned.

Then, suddenly, he was dead.

He lay there, the two men over him. «What a shame,» said one of them. «Can you figure that?»

«Shock. Poor guy. What a pity.» They covered his face. «Did you ever see a face like that?»

«Loneliness. Shock.»

«Yes. Lord, what an expression! I hope never to see a face like that again.»

«What a shame, waiting for us, and we arrive, and he dies anyway.»

They glanced around. «What shall we do? Shall we spend the night?»

«Yes. It's good to be out of the ship.»

«We'll bury him first, of course.»

«Naturally.»

«And spend the night in the open, with good air, right? Good to be in the open again. After two weeks in that damned ship.»

«Right. I'll find a spot for him. You start supper, eh?»

«Done.»

«Should be good sleeping tonight.»

«Fine, Fine.»

They made a grave and said a word over it. They drank their evening coffee silently. They looked at the lovely sky and the bright and beautiful stars.

«What a night,» they said, lying down.

«Pleasant dreams,» said one, rolling over.

And the other replied, «Pleasant dreams.»

They slept.