"Jerry Davis - The Moon at Noon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

he thought it might be quite turbulent. He was over the upper half
of the golf range, the really tough holes which sat on the lower
shoulder of the hill, when the updraft hit him. Even though he was
expecting it, it caught him off guard as to how strong it actually
was --- he felt the Earth drop away and the blood rush to his
feet, and there was creaking sounds from his aluminum frame and
two harsh pops, followed by a rapid fluttering of nylon. The
thrill of fear went through him like a spike. Two snap buttons on
the leading edge of his left wing, out toward the tip, had come
undone. The drag of the loose material pulled on that wing tip and
made the glider turn, taking him against his will out of the
updraft.
Mike swore, throwing his weight to the other side, fighting
the turn. If it kept up like this, the best he could hope for was
a slow spiral down to the ground. What he was really worried about
was coming around and hitting that updraft again. With two snaps
off, it wouldn't take much to pull the rest loose --- the wing
would come off like it were unzipped, parting from the frame that
held it out. Mike would tumble to his death, and only prove to the
world that hang gliding --- with or without a safety suit --- was
too dangerous to be legal.
Mike managed to cancel the turn, even to coax the glider a
little to the right. This was still no good, as he was now heading
right for the side of the hill. He had hardly any control now at
all, though if he could just get it a little more to the right, he
could land safely on the fairway to the 7th hole. But a sudden
updraft caught him and sent him up another thirty meters, getting
him right up to the crest of the shoulder. And there, sitting on
the ridge, was the Country Club clubhouse. Mike aimed for the
white rock of the long, flat roof, and touched down to find it
very hot on the bottom of his bare feet.
"Yow!" he said. "Ow! Oooh! Ouch!" He hopped around, getting
out of the harness, then dropped the glider and danced around to
the wing tip. He snapped the buttons shut, rushed back to the
middle, harnessed himself, and ran off toward the North-East.
There was a terrible dip off the edge of the roof, and for a
moment it didn't look like he was going to clear the line of trees
separating one side of the ridge from the other. He turned on one
wing and sailed in between, right through the trees and only
several feet over the grassy ground, then the hill dropped away
and the city once again spread below his bare toes. "Jesus!" he
exclaimed to himself. "This is it. This is enough." He pulled on
the bar and went into a dive. The glider swooped down toward the
tops of the buildings, the air rushing past him and roaring in his
ears, then he pulled up and crossed over to the park, a streak of
color slicing through the air. He circled around once, looking for
a secluded spot, and shedding some of the speed from the dive.
There was a whole meadow adjacent to his car that looked totally
deserted, so he took it down and hit the ground running. He
reached the edge of the bushes and struggled out of his harness,