"Richard Harding - Outrider 02 - Fire And Ice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harding Richard)

mankind that would sweep these ordinary folks up into its grasp. Men who had
once just worked and ate and slept and cast a bored eye on the events of the
day at work's end were suddenly part of them. They were there on the road
because of men and policies far away from their tiny lives. The distant events
of history swept over them, suddenly, painfully. Death. Starling was in the
lead and keeping his head down. Stormers patrolled Trash Alley-they patrolled
all of the Borderlands. When they couldn't be there in person, they left some
very unpleasant calling cards: wire traps that would slice easily through a
man's neck, explosive traps, powerful mines that were tripped by your front
wheels but didn't explode until the middle of the vehicle, where the driver
sat, passed overhead; spring guns that would blast a couple of pounds of shot
into the rusty canyon, nail traps, gas traps, glass traps. Some of the
Stormers could be quite resourceful when they turned their nasty little minds
to it. Starling moved cautiously. He was a veteran of a hundred rides through
Trash Alley and he was an expert at spotting each different death nest that
the Stormers had planted along the way. He was also expert at turning the
traps against the men who had set them. Starling always carried a wire and
wasn't above placing it where he knew a Stormer was likely to appear. He
started slowing down and Bonner tapped his brakes. Starling came to a complete
stop in the narrow passage, the sound of the big pounding Harley engine
bouncing off the high metal walls. Starling swiveled in his seat and looked
at Bonner. Bonner stared back. It was unlike Starling to stop in the alley for
no reason. "Bonner," called Starling over his shoulder, "there's something
not right here." Bonner stood up in the seat of his steel warhorse. "What's
the problem?" "That's the problem," said Starling. "There is no problem.
There's nothing along here at all. Nothing. I'd swear that no Stormer patrol
has been through here in days, weeks maybe. We passed two traps, a nail gun
and a wire, and someone had taken them apart." "A rider maybe," said Bonner.
- "That's what 1 figured, but who? Everyone is back in Chi-town." "Now we
don't know that for a fact," said Bonner. Starling settled back down on the
big saddle and gunned his engine. "No," he said, "I s'pose." But Bonner could
see in the hunch of the rider's shoulders that he was puzzled and alert to the
possibilities of danger. The Mean Brothers sat behind Bonner, seemingly
unaware of the danger that worried Starling or the cold, which was getting
worse with the passing of each minute. Night was falling as they eased out of
the alley unscathed. Starling and Bonner changed positions, Bonner sliding
into the lead. Attached to the prow of his narrow coffin of a car was a heavy
theatrical spotlight. It could cut a path in the darkness several hundred
yards long. It was not long after night came that the temperature plunged and
the snow came, first in feathery little squalls, then in ever-deepening waves
of whiteness. It danced in front of the blast of light and spun crazily into
his face. Twice they had to stop to put on clothing enough to withstand the
bad weather. Bonner was wearing his goggles and heavy gauntlets and the rough
fur coat that covered him from head to foot. But he was still cold. The Mean
Brothers blinked away the snow and looked with bemused disgust at the
frailties of their fellowman-if the Mean Brothers could be considered men.
They were really more like creatures trapped between floors on the elevator of
evolution. They knew that eventually they would feel the cold, but the first
snows of winter mattered to them not at all. "How much farther you wanna go?"
asked Starling. The snow was really picking up now, approaching the force of a