"Axler, James - Deathlands 050 - Pandora's Reboubt - Nick Pollotta" - читать интересную книгу автора (Axler James)

"To claim their prize."
"Yes. To either rape her again, or..."
"Eat her?"
"Mebbe both."
"Sweet Jesus."
"So she was what they were fighting over."
"No," Ryan said abruptly, "she wasn't. The prize was much more important than her." He turned to face the second door across the room. "And we'll find it on the other side of that door." Krysty glanced at the closed portal. "How do you know?"
"Just a hunch. I think I know what this base is." Rifle resting on his hip, Ryan loosened the SIG Sauer pistol in his belt and removed a gren from his pocket. Carefully, he removed the tape holding the spoon in place and put the primed bomb into his coat.
"I'm on point," he said.
"Maybe we should just leave," Mildred suggested.
"No. What's on the other side could be more valuable to us than it was to the coldhearts."
"Why?"
"Because we can use it." Easing open the door, he waited a moment for a reaction, then slipped through, J.B. at his heels, Krysty close behind.
Dean waited for the others to get a bit ahead of him before following. Then on an impulse, he hurried back, retrieved the Ruger from the floor and tucked it into his belt. Whet he planned to do with the weapon, Dean had no idea. But he felt angered over the girl's death, and was determined to find somebody or something to blame it on and get revenge.
The next room proved to be the top floor of the redoubt, a single cavernous expanse stretching off for hundreds of yards ahead of them. Broken military machines of a dozen different sizes and shapes dotted the floor in rows upon rows. It was the motor pool. Dean's hopes soared at the sight. His father had told him how many were the times they found working APCs or Hummers, some even with caches of stored fuel and ammo. None of the vehicles ever lasted long, but while they did the team rode in style and safety.
Dodging past a row of vehicles he had once heard. Mildred refer to as jeeps, Dean slowed and scowled. The rest of the garage resembled a junkyard, with most of the machines in various stages of being totally disassembled: engines taken out, wheels off, axles bare of brakes and bearings, armor sheeting removed entirely, doom gone, weapon mounts empty.
"Fuel pump!" Jak called, and Dean hurried in that direction. The rest of the group was clustered around a stainless-steel pair of pumps set near the massive ruin of an APC. Dean watched as J.B. worked the priming controls and Jak held a hose hopefully over a bucket. Only vapor belched out.
"Did you prime the pump?" Dean asked.
"This type doesn't need it," Ryan said dourly. "No, the storage tanks have already been drained. Too bad."
"Any sign of that fancy condensed fuel?" Doc asked hopefully.
"Wish to hell I knew what it was," Mildred grumped. "It doesn't have the odor of regular gas or leave a spectrum pattern on water like any normal petroleum product. Yet regular combustion engines rim on it for hundreds of miles a gallon. It's something brand-new."
"Not that there's anything here to fuel," Krysty said bluntly, glancing around. "The place is a machine graveyard. Nothing but bits and pieces remaining."
Turning off the wheezing pump, J.B. removed his fedora and scratched his head. "Which makes no sense. Why rip apart every machine? Were they searching for a special part?"
"Mebbe they had no idea what they were doing," Dean suggested.
"Doesn't appear so," Ryan said, walking over to a tracked vehicle. The hood was completely gone, the engine compartment exposed to the bare overhead lights. "I spotted it as we passed. See? The engine's been removed, but the nuts on the mounting bolts were screwed back on. A trained mechanic Does that so as not to lose a nut, not looters."
"Probably taking p>arts from one to fix another," Krysty observed. "If so, then there could easily be a Hummer intact somewhere in a corner."
Raking fingers through his hair, Ryan exhaled slowly. "Highly doubtful, but we'll check."
"I saw a big canvas lump over there," Dean said, motioning behind them. "Really huge. Could be anything."
"Show us," Ryan said.
Dodging debris on the floor with the agility of youth, Dean retraced his steps. The neat rows of vehicles became a jumbled array, and finally a barricade of metal parked end to end. Clambering over the impromptu wall, Dean disappeared from view.
The others moved quickly, but with far more care, and found an opening in the ring of steel. Here there was a clear section of floor, and partially covered with a large canvas was the biggest tank any of them had ever seen. A tank of unknown design, but apparently in absolutely perfect condition.
"By the Three Kennedys!" Doc whispered.
J.B. swallowed hard. "The mother lode."
The drapes of canvas covered only the front end of the vehicle, the body stretching over twenty yards in length and twice the height of a man.
"Chassis must be from a cargo truck," Ryan said.
"Twice my height," Jak said, a hand reaching into the air.
"Can it fit out the door?" Mildred asked. "I've never seen anything this large that moved under its own power."
"Unless they were total fools, it'll fit," Ryan replied.
"Eighteen wheels," J.B. said, inspecting the wheel well. "Taken off a Hummer. Only needs six to operate."
"Spares," Ryan decided. "Or a diversion for somebody shooting at them."
"Certainly lowers the odds of a sniper choosing the correct tire to blow."
"She should be able to traverse the worst of the Deathlands."
Keeping a watch on the shadows under the ring of vehicles, the friends walked around their incredible find. The rear doom were louvered, the angled slots perfect for shooting at pursuing vehicles. The dull body armor was of an odd dung-colored material that resembled smooth concrete.
"Antiradar composites taken off stealth helicopter," Mildred guessed. "Probably got some reactive armor plating sandwiched between the outside and the steel sheets inside."
"No way of knowing, short of taking the vehicle apart"
"Even the windows are covered with iron bars to keep anything too big from crashing into the hardened glass."
"Somebody expected this to see serious combat."
Dean carefully climbed on the fender, the wide band of spiked 'steel resembling a porcupine belt. "It's got a missile pod on the roof. No, there's two!"
J.B. ran his hands over a grooved slot on the hull, which entirely ringed the vehicle. "This is to mount Claymore mines and blow away attackers who get too close. We don't have any mines, but I can put something there. Wads of plastique packed with nails and broken glass should do the trick."
"Mebbe it isn't finished," Krysty said. "Let's get this canvas completely off. Somebody gave me a hand." They all joined in to assist her. "Ready, pull!"