"Molly Brown - Community Service" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brown Molly)

"Now stand up."
She lifted her head to see a man in blue and gold armour pointing a very
large gun at her with one hand while he unhooked a rope from the harness
around his waist with the other. She couldn't see much of the man's face
behind his helmet, but she'd know that voice anywhere. No, she told
herself, it wasn't possible. She carefully got to her feet, raising her
hands in surrender. She was still clutching her inhaler.
"Drop it," the man ordered her.
"It's just -"
"Drop it!"
The inhaler hit the ground.
"Against that wall," the man said. "Now!"
She stood gaping at him, open-mouthed. It wasn't just his voice, it was
his mouth, his chin, the way he stood, the way he didn't hold his head
quite straight. If only she could see his eyes, then she would know beyond
doubt...
"I said move!" the man barked.
"Louie? It is you, isn't it?"
The man raised his gun to her forehead. "Move!"
"Louie, what are you doing? It's me, Kathy, your sister..."
He pulled the trigger.

- I -
I was working the day shift at Traffic Control when I noticed that someone
was making obscene finger shadows on one of my computer screens. I turned
around and saw a couple of the guys standing at the back of the room with
a flashlight. "Very funny," I said, turning back to the screen. Then a
rubber band bounced off my head. I knew who'd done that, and I was
determined to ignore it.
Jimmy Rodriguez slid his chair over next to mine. When I still ignored
him, he nudged me with his elbow. "Hey, Nora!"
I looked up from my terminal, giving him my iciest stare. I was furious at
Jimmy that morning, though it seemed he hadn't figured that out yet.
He pointed to a crack in the left front wall, between two banks of screens
displaying a line of nearly stationary cars stretching across most of the
fifteenth sector. That was Angela Greenman's sector, and she was just
about tearing her hair out trying to get things moving again. Rather her
than me, I thought.
"Is it my imagination," Jimmy said, "or is that crack getting bigger?"
Jimmy had been calling maintenance about that crack for the last two
months. And he was right, it was definitely getting bigger. But I wasn't
going to tell him that because I wasn't speaking to him. I just shrugged.
I turned back to my own set of screens. I had a bottleneck forming in
Valley View Road; I reduced vehicle speed to 20 kph and diverted every
second car to an alternate - longer - route. I zoomed in on one particular
driver, watching his face contort as he tugged at his steering wheel,
trying to pull it the opposite way. It didn't do him any good; I was the
one in control and he was taking the scenic route, whether he liked it or
not. The man finally let go of the wheel to shake a fist at the camera.
Jimmy laughed and patted me on the back. He loved it when drivers tried to