"Chapman, John L - Time, Inc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Chapman John L)

another!"
The words took swift effect. The Horde army moved en masse across the plains,
swarming to the valley's edge and charging straight at the huddled thousands of
Dwellers.
Jack Stanley felt a tugging at his sleeve. He stopped, hearing the whine of
Henry Holmes' voice.
"--their battle!" Holmes made out. "--don't want--any part of it!"
"What about the weapon?" Jack yelled back. "We've got to get it out of here--"
But Holmes didn't hear him. The oncoming Hordes rammed him and knocked his frail
body to the ground. Stanley dodged, pushed a couple warriors aside and bent
swiftly. He lifted Holmes, kicked, shoved and fought his way clear of the moving
army. In the valley below, he heard the clashing of the Hordes and Dwellers.
HENRY HOLMES wiped a smear of blood from his cheek and looked up anxiously at
Jack Stanley. He stopped panting long enough to say: "We don't belong here let's
get out!"
"But Woodley's gun--"
"Let them have the thing--we've got to get away from here--get back to '48.
We've gained nothing, and lost Forthy--"
"Yeah, I know. Maybe you're right. Things are a little different now."
"And look--the Dwellers are deserting again. Running the other way. Rhamnol will
get ahold of the gun, and that's all that seems necessary."
"Yeah--he's got them licked--"
Stanley helped Holmes to his feet and started him toward the city. "We're
checking out. We've got something bigger than all this to worry about."
They hurried past the city and made their way eastward in the bright moonlight.
Behind them, the distant shouts of the Hordes faded and were replaced by the
steady humming of the city's machines. Ahead, the waiting time machine took
shape.
Safe within its walls, Henry Holmes whined: "Now to find the right 1948!"
"That might not be so easy," reflected Stanley. "We're in a future that hasn't
existed, and might never exist in relation to our own time. It's different from
travelling in the past. This way--the return trip could land us anywhere."
"I still say it's impossible!" snorted Holmes. "Unexisting futures, time
channels, pivots--it's all--"
Stanley cut him short with a quick throw of the starting lever. Holmes stood
there, shaking a little, his mouth open. Outside, the time state enveloped them
like a blanket.
The flight was swift, and the window began to color. Through the heavy glass,
the laboratory of Stanley, Holmes and Forthmiller, Time Agents, took form.
"Success!" exulted Holmes, "if this is the right channel--"
They took hasty departure from the machine, bursting noisily into their office.
They looked once, and saw that time had played another trick on them.
"HELLO," said Forthmiller cheerfully. "How was the future?" He brought his feet
down from the desk top and stood up, yawning and stretching.
"You!" gasped Holmes. "You're dead! You shot yourself!"
Forthmiller glared at him. "Dead? Do I look dead? Snap out of it, Hank--"
"Wait," sighed Jack Stanley. "Let's get it straight. We took you to the future,
Forthy. Don't you remember Casmir and Woodley's bomb? And--"
"Of course. I remember all that, but what gave you the notion I went along? I've
been right here all the time. I didn't go. I told you I didn't want to go. And