"Gordon Eklund - Serving in Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eklund Gordon)

And there were two doors.

Jan hurried over and tried the first. It opened easily enough
but revealed nothing beyond a rather ordinary, though clean,
bathroom.

So he went and tried the second door.

This one was locked. The knob refused even to budge.
Frustrated, Jan tugged and strained. Nothing happened. Making
a fist, he pounded vigorously. Still nothing. So he kicked the
door.

"Ouch!"

He backed away, cursing. He had forgotten they had left him
barefooted along with everything else.

Turning back to the center of the room, he noticed the
presence of a pile of clothing near the place where he had
originally been lying.

He knew that clothing hadn't been there before.

First, he carefully scanned the walls and floor in search of
some sort of trapdoor. Failing that, he went over to the pile of
clothing. He inspected the various garments: there were socks,
boots, underwear, gloves, pants, and a shirt. He dressed in the
underwear and socks to guard against the chill. The rest he
ignored. He would rather die of the cold than wear their
uniform. Both the shirt and pants were bright green. On the
pocket of the shirt, a patch had been attached: a white clock
with no dials. He didn't know what that meant, but he didn't like
it, either.

There seemed nowhere else to lookтАФnothing else to
inspectтАФbut the window. He went over there and cautiously
parted the curtains. The glass behind seemed so black he
thought at first it must be painted.

Squinting, pressing his nose against the dark glass, he
strained to peer through.

Then, seeing, he reeled, almost falling, and quickly shut his
eyes.

He had seen nothing out there. It was darkтАФno, not dark, for
he could have withstood that; it was black out there. Pitch, total
blackness. Not a hint of light. Not a shade or a shadow. Just
utter, impenetrable blackness sweeping in every possible