"Eric Flint & Marilyn Kosmatka - Time Spike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Eric)

votesтАФbut there's no way they'll raise the taxes to cover the expense of overflowing prisons."

"Yeah." Rod's face was unreadable. "When the bastards finished with him they marked his cheek and
forehead with a knife. Their fucking symbol. We tore the place apart looking for the damned thing but
came up empty. The prison is on lockdown until that knife is found."

"Is there anything more I need to know?"

Both men shook their head.

"All right, Rod, you go home." Andy already had a headache and knew as the night wore on it would get
worse. Lately, they had been on lockdown more often than they weren't.

Hulbert got to his feet. "I would stay if I could, Andy. But the office would shit a brick."

"That's okay." Andy glanced at Joe. "I hate for you to stay . . ."

"I know. But I would expect you to stick around if the situation was reversed. Just let me go to the car
and get a fresh pair of socks and a couple bottles of water. What did you bring for supper?"

"Barbeque chicken, salad, and a couple of pears. There's enough for the two of us."

Rod dropped his lunch bucket onto the table and flipped it open. "I didn't get a chance to eat. Two
sardine sandwiches, a bag of chips, a packet of cookies and a diet Coke."

"Jeez, Hulbert, no wonder you're so damn scrawny! That stuff will kill you." Joe closed the lid to the
bucket and handed it back to the man. "Take it home and feed it to the garbage can."

"Okay, but by about four-thirty, you'll be wishing you had it."

"I don't think so." Joe was laughing now. "Maybe we can feed that shit to the prisoners until someone
squeals on who hit the Martinez kid. It shouldn't take more than one meal."

"Sounds like cruel and unusual punishment to me." Andy chuckled, slapping Rod on the back. "Thanks.
Go home, we'll be fine."
 The door opened and the wind gusted in. Kathleen Hanrahan looked their way, giving them her usual
easy smile. Her maternity uniform barely fit. Everyone knew at her age she had no business working this
late into the pregnancy. But her husband, a laborer at the coal docks, had gotten laid off six weeks after
she discovered her birth control measures hadn't worked. And with three half-grown kids still at home,
she was stuck. She either worked until two weeks before the baby was due and came back six weeks
after it was born, or she lost her job, her house, her car, and everything else she and her husband had
managed to accumulate.

"Good morning," she said, patting her rounded abdomen. "Nine more shifts to go."

"Morning?" Joe shook his head.

"My morning." She looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes until time to punch in. "The roads are so dark.
Even the prison lights seem dimmer, like they aren't putting out like they should."