"Molly Brown - Asleep At The Wheel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Molly)

Carrie chose a pair of brown hip-hugger bell-bottoms, an imitation suede
vest, and a bracelet of silver bells.

It was late when she got off the bus. Moonless, dark, and still.
She glanced up at a streetlight and saw a large moth flap towards the
light, throwing itself against the burning bulb. She crossed the main road
and started to walk the two blocks to the apartment where she lived with
her parents.
She'd walked these same two blocks many times before, but tonight
everything seemed strange and threatening. The jingling bells on her wrist
seemed to echo off the walls of every building she passed. The sound made
her feel strangely self-conscious, as if she was drawing too much
attention to herself. Though the street appeared empty, she had a feeling
she was being watched. She held the bracelet still with her opposite hand.
The street fell back into eerie silence.
She was halfway down Hamlyn when the silence was broken once more. The
door of a parked car swung open. Two men leapt out and she started to run.
Then everything went black.

She found herself behind the wheel of her car, Tanya strapped into the
passenger's seat beside her. She came to with a start; she didn't remember
driving into the city.
A cold wave of fear travelled the length of her spine. She had just driven
through the downtown business district at the height of the rush hour and
she didn't remember any of it. She didn't even remember getting into the
car.
She felt as if she'd spent the entire journey asleep at the wheel. What if
a truck had come at them head-on? Would she have reacted? She tried to
tell herself of course she would have, but the truth was she didn't know.
She shivered at the thought of all the dreadful things that could have
happened, all the ways they might never have arrived. "We're here," she
said, turning the car into Hamlyn Street, where her parents lived.

She rang the bell several times, but got no answer.
"The door isn't locked," Tanya said, pushing it open.
The apartment was empty. The walls were streaked with grime, the floor
covered in a layer of dust and leaves. "I don't understand it," Carrie
said, thinking Tanya was still standing beside her. "Where are they?" She
turned and saw she was alone.

Carrie found her daughter standing on the back porch, staring into space.
When Carrie was a little girl, she used to spend hours on that porch,
watching the neighbours' laundry flap in the breeze, listening to their
dogs bark, their televisions blare, their doors slam, their windows slide
up and down. Now everything was empty: the neighbouring porches, the
alley, every single window. Empty and silent. "I don't understand what's
going on," she said. "Where is everybody?"
"I'm so tired of this," Tanya muttered more to herself than to her mother.
"Tired of going through the motions. Tired of pretending."
"Tanya, honey, what's wrong? What can I do for you? Tell me."