"Gordon Eklund - Falling Toward Forever" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eklund Gordon)

He made himself stand. His legs wobbled but finally held him.
Trying to walk, he staggered like a drunk. He reached the trunk
of the big pine tree and dropped there. The pain swept over him.
Moaning gently, he waited for it to subside.

He decided to survey his present situation. Wherever he was,
he definitely seemed to be alone. His ammunition belt was full
and that was a good sign but his gunsтАФboth the pistol and the
rifleтАФwere nowhere to be seen. His canteen was full. He took a
drink. The water was warm and flat but not unbearable. He
poured a few drops on his wound but chose not to waste any
more. He didn't have any food. The company's supplies had been
left behind at the original camp.

So what now? He tried to consider the available possibilities
as carefully as possible. They seemed to break down into two
general categories: either he could go or he could stay.

After a long moment's consideration, he decided to stay. He
was too weak to walk far and, besides, the main question now
facing him seemed to be trying to figure out exactly where he
might be. Someone must have brought him hereтАФmaybe they
would come back and tell him. If not, then what? It just didn't
feel like any part of Africa he knew. A pine forest, where the air
was cool, damp, almost cold. Set down without preconceptions
and he might have guessed this was Oregon or Washington or
some secluded place on Vancouver Island. But that just couldn't
be. That was thousands and thousands of miles away. He
decided to put the question aside. He couldn't answer it now. He
would have to wait till laterтАФwhen he knew more.

But, even ignoring that, a more difficult question remained.
Wherever he was, how had he come to be here? Who or what had
brought himтАФand why? He tried to stretch his mind backward,
tried to remember, but no matter how much he strained, the last
memory he could recoEect was when he was about to shoot that
woman.

Maybe she had shot him. Could that be it? He was deadтАФin
heaven? Strangely, the idea seemed to have some appeal to it but
it was one he was forced to dis-miss. If he was in heaven, then
why was he wounded, and if he was dead, then where was the
wound that had killed him?

So he accepted the fact that he was alive. Beyond that, he
could proceed no farther. So he didn't. Settling against the tree
trunk, he prepared to wait. For anything. For whatever happened
next. He was sure something wouldтАФit must.

And something did. Only a short time later, in the woods to