"Axler, James - Deathlands 050 - Pandora's Reboubt - Nick Pollotta" - читать интересную книгу автора (Axler James)
"Shit," Jak drawled, making the word two long syllables.
Doc agreed with a dumb nod.
"It's going to be as loud as hell inside when we use those 75 mm rifles," Mildred commented. "Especially both at once."
"If there's any shells for them,' LB. stated. Along the aft part of the hull were racks for motorcycles, but no bikes. Presumably the coldhearts knew where to find some, but that knowledge was lost forever.
"Needs name," Jak said. "Death wagon."
"May I suggest Leviathan," Doc countered. "It is much more appropriate."
Jak snorted. "Got no balls. Death wagon."
"Leviathan," Ryan decided, then relented. "Vote on it."
Leviathan won.
Inspecting underneath, Jak found some Claymore mines mounted on the belly near the exit hatch. Ryan decided to leave them there. It was a good idea to have your escape route mined in case of possible lurkers.
"Almost makes Trader's war wag look like an oxcart."
"It's the biggest find we've made since the redoubts themselves. It must have taken them months, mebbe longer to build this."
"It's why they fought. With this chariot, they could have ruled an empire."
"And after it was done, the question of who got to be the boss became disputed."
"Makes sense."
"The idiots," Mildred snapped. "Sitting on a gold mine and they whizzed in the water."
"Mixed metaphors," Doc said, smiling, "but I agree wholeheartedly."
"Well, it's ours now," Dean stated, beaming. Then his elation faded. "If we can get in."
J.B. looked contemptuous. "With me and Ryan here, in the middle of a machine shop? Please."
"Doors locked," Jak said, rattling a recessed handle.
"Not for long." Smugly, J.B. went to work with his picks and probes. A few minutes passed.
"Well?" Ryan asked impatiently.
"It's unlocked, but not opening," J.B. said through gritted teeth.
"Bolted from the inside?"
Shouldering their weapons, Dean and Jak went to the tool table then joined the Armorer. Dean slid a long screwdriver between the door and the hull, while Jak forced the end of a pry bar into the opposite side of the portal.
"Wish I had leather gloves," J.B. muttered, as he spit on his hands and grabbed the recessed handle again. "Okay, all together on my mark. Ready? One, two, three, pull!"
The three friends groaned in unison, yet the door remained motionless, the hinges creaking loudly. Suddenly, there was a loud snap and the door swung away, the pieces of a pencil tumbling to the floor. The men dropped their tools and grinned in triumph.
"Ha! Just a freaking pencil caught in the hinge."
J.B. laughed, rubbing his hands together. "I thought it would be something simple- Dark night!" The Armorer threw himself backward as animal growls came from within the tank and a misshapen figure stepped into view.
Vaguely, it resembled a large black dog, only its muscular body was covered with overlapping scales in the manner of an armadillo. Its head was outrageously large, the eyes as yellow as a harvest moon. Two writhing tentacles sprang from the shoulders, and a scorpion's tail tipped with a stinger that glistened moistly curled from its rump.
"Hellhound!" Jak yelled, his .357 Magnum blaster booming at the monstrosity. Both rounds missed and ricocheted off the inside of the craft.
Golden foam dripping from its muzzle, the mutie rushed at them with tentacles thrashing. Dean kicked the door, and the metal slab swung closed on the lashing tail. The animal hissed in pain and struggled frantically to get loose. On the floor, J.B. rolled for his Uzi. Leveling his Steyr longblaster, Ryan aimed and fired in one motion. The big rifle boomed louder than artillery in the garage, the heavy-caliber round smashing the beast against the armored hull. Its stinger Lashed out for Ryan's face, and the one-eyed man knocked it away just in time with his rifle butt. Jak appeared around the door, boldly shoving his blaster into the hellhound's right eye and pulling the trigger. The creature's head exploded, spraying pale yellow blood and pink brains everywhere.
"Fireblast!" Ryan cursed, levering in a fresh round. "It's got friends!"
Snarling and hissing, two more hellhounds appeared. Mildred and Krysty each hit the largest with their .38 bullets to no effect, and J.B. sprayed both with 9 mm Parabellum rounds. Neither beast seemed adversely affected. Dean blasted another in the right ear with the Ruger, its head slamming back. Yellow blood flowed from the wound, but the beast struck out with tentacles and stinger, the boy diving behind the door again. The other hellhound reached out its tentacles to grab hold of the top of the tank and impossibly flipped upside down, landing on the roof. There was a patter of pads on metal and the mutie was gone.
The other launched itself over J.B. and landed on the worktable next to the cans of fuel. Everybody tracked the beast, but nobody fired.
"Fuck!" Jak cried, his hand trembling from the exertion of not firing.
"If we miss and hit a can, we'll set fire to ourselves!" Mildred roared.
Low and fast, Ryan pulled out his panga and circled to the left. Dropping the LeMat into his coat pocket, Doc drew the sword within his cane and expertly lunged for the snarling beast. The steel blade went straight into its mouth, going deeper and deeper until the muzzle came dangerously near the old man's hand. Both tentacles slashed at him, but missed, the stinger arching in lethal readiness. Mildred shot at the moist barbed tip, missing. Doc shoved again, putting his full weight behind the thrust. The blade sliced in farther, the black lips touching his hand, the jagged teeth an inch away. Then the beast went stock-still as its mottled eyes rolled in their sockets, showing yellow. The tentacles went limp and the creature toppled over amid the tools, knocking some onto the floor.
Coolly, Mildred walked to the thing and put a round directly into its right eye with surgical precision. The head jerked, and blood flowed out of its mouth and ears.
Shoving the corpse to the floor, Doc placed a boot on the thing's face and yanked his sword free. "And thou, wretched boy, that did consort him here, shall with him hence!" he said with a flourish, wiping the blade clean on the animal's black coat. Then as they watched, the fur began to fade to a neutral color of greenish tan.
"Good God!" Doc gasped.
"More!" Krysty shouted, her revolver banging steadily.
Three more hellhounds leaped from the vehicle. But these didn't join the fight. They bounded off into the junkyard, vanishing underneath and amid the endless collection of disassembled vehicles.
"Gaia, we'll never find them out there," Krysty said, her crimson hair flexing as she reloaded her revolver.
"We're not even going to try," Ryan replied. Something moved in the distance, and he fired the rifle at it. There was no yelp or hiss of pain. "Mildred, Dean, sweep the tank, two-man cover. Go!"
The two climbed into the vehicle under the watching blasters of their companions, then moved into the interior, thrusting the ready muzzles of the blasters under seats, into lockers and ammo bins.
"Clear!" Mildred announced with obvious relief.
"There's nowhere anything as large as them could hide."
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