"Bradley Denton - A Conflagration Artist" - читать интересную книгу автора (Denton Bradley)

He's been driving too fast. The brakes lock too late.
But he had to get Kaye home on time, didn't he?

Alien sound envelops him as the truck fishtails. The tires groan like dying animals, and Kaye's gasp is like
air filling a huge bellows.

Kaye. He forces his head to turn toward her and sees that her face, illuminated by the pale green glow
from the dashboard, is twisting into an expression of fear.

He tries to say that it's all right, that he loves her, but he can't open his mouth far enough.

Another boxcar is in their path now. It's the one they'll hit. On Kaye's side.

Darrell is aware of everything, of the train, of Kaye's breath, of the weirdness of the light. The brake
pedal thrums against his foot. The pickup's springs compress. There is a stink of black rubber and
asphalt.

He sees, hears, feels, and smells it all. And he can do nothing about it.

They shouldn't have gone to a party so far out in the country, so far away from the house where Mrs.
Phillips watches the passage of every minute on the living room clock. He shouldn't have had the last
three beers. He shouldn't have let time get away.

Not after what Kaye's gone through for him. You're only seventeen, the others are always telling her.
He's twenty-two. And what kind of support could he give you driving a soft-drink truck? What about
your college plans?

He looks at her frightened eyes and tries again to say he loves her. But the sound of grinding, tearing
metal fills the world.

The side of the boxcar looms beside Kaye's head. Darrell sees rough speckles of paint just before the
window explodes.

Green-glittering cubes shoot through the cab in a slow spray. Darrell sees Kaye try to turn, sees her
mouth open, sees the particles bury themselves in her cheeks and eyes.

The roof comes down.

Nine-tenths of a second have passed since the headlights shone onto the train.



Frank (1)

He calls Lori to say he'll be home late. It's a heavy Friday night in the E/R, much heavier than usual for a
town of 11,000 like El Dorado, much heavier than usual for the whole county, and he thinks he should
help.

He works on a cardiac case (stupidтАФthe guy took up jogging tonight at age fifty-four without getting a
stress test), a kid who got his nose broken in a fight, and assorted other cut, bumped, and bruised