"Ellison-SensibleCity" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ellison Harlan)

"Keep your eyes on the road."

"So whaddya think?"

"About what?"

"About maybe I swing off next time and we go into one'a these little towns and
maybe a 7-Eleven'll be open, and I can get a box'a Grape-Nuts? We'll need some
gas after a while, too. See the little arrow there?"

"I see it. We've still got half a tank. Keep driving."

Mickey pouted. Gropp paid no attention. There were drawbacks to forced traveling
companionship. But there were many cul-de-sacs and landfills between this
stretch of dark turnpike and New Brunswick, Canada or Mazatlan, state of
Sinaloa.

"What is this, the Southwest?" Gropp asked, looking out the side window into
utter darkness. "The Midwest? What?"

Mickey looked around, too. "I dunno. Pretty out here, though. Real quiet and
pretty."

"It's pitch dark."

"Yeah, huh?"

"Just drive, for godsake. Pretty. Jeezus!"

They rode in silence for another twenty-seven miles, then Mickey said, "I gotta
go take a piss."

Gropp exhaled mightily. Where were the cul-de-sacs, where were the landfills?
"Okay. Next town of any size, we can take the exit and see if there's decent
accommodations. You can get a box of Grape-Nuts, and use the toilet; I can have
a cup of coffee and study the map in better light. Does that sound like a good
idea, to you . . . Daniel?"

"Yes, Harold. See, I remembered."

"The world is a fine place."

They drove for another sixteen miles, and came nowhere in sight of a thruway
exit sign. But the green glow had begun to creep up from the horizon.

"What the hell is that?" Gropp asked, running down his power window. "Is that
some kind of a forest fire, or something? What's that look like to you?"

"Like green in the sky."