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

winter coming on, they're going to need it bad." "I'm sorry to have
inconvenienced them," said Bonner. Dorca threw his head back and rocked with
laughter. As he did so, he saw the door of the joint open and standing there
were Comer and his two thugs, all three with guns in their hands. They hunched
their shoulders and threw out their arms in front of them in the classic
combat stance. Bonner saw them too. The.22 leaped into his hands as if it was
alive. Comer's first shot shattered Dorca's jar of sugar. Bonner fired and a
murderous.22 steel slug slapped, hot and true, into Comer's forehead. A red
hole opened there, as if Comer had developed a third, bloodshot eye. Comer
lived for less than half a second after impact. The bullet tore through his
head and exited, depositing a piece of his brain-which had not served him well
during his brief, violent life-on the door behind him. Every other gun in the
bar fired in what seemed like unison. Every shotgun, every revolver, every
automatic, every rifle, even every dainty handgun carried by the whores fired
after Bonner. Comer's two assistants were perforated from every angle by every
type of shot and bullet. The wave of steel broke over them, tearing their
flesh to brilliant scarlet tatters. Blood seemed to explode from them as if
they were barrels. Bullets peppered around them, tearing up the floor at their
feet and smashing the wooden doorframe. As the chatter of gunfire died away,
there was a moment of confused silence. No one could quite believe that Comer
had come back and tried something so stupid. A raider, still cradling his
smoking shotgun said, "Hey, Dorca, anybody every try to take this place down
before." "Nope." "Well, I reckon it's going to be awhile before anyone tries
again." Laughter rolled around the room. "Give 'em all a drink, Artie,"
ordered Dorca. His barman nodded and started setting up glasses. Dorca turned
to Bonner. "How do you like that guy Comer? What a jerk. Gonna miss his money,
though. Say, you're pretty fast with that thing. The rest of the joint was a
day and a half behind you." "I broke the rule," said Bonner, "about shooting
indoors." "Yeah," said Dorca, laughing, "and am I pissed." Chapter
3 Bonner tensed as soon as he heard the street door of his building open.
Four stories below him he heard the heavy steps of two men. One of them
mumbled to the other as they started up the stairs. As they did so, he picked
up the girl's worn old shotgun and held it before him. A voice from the
stairs: "Hey Bonner, man, chill out, it's us..." Bonner relaxed. The girl
looked at him quizzically. "Who?" "Seth and Starling." She jumped out of bed
and sprinted for another room. Bonner saw a quick glimpse of her long white
legs, like a retreating deer. He swung out of bed and pulled on a pair of
pants and a soft denim shirt. He was hauling on his boots when Seth and
Starling arrived at the door. "You're up early," said Bonner. "We got plans,
man." Seth was a black man about the size of Bonner, a couple of inches over
six feet. He had the same powerful frame but was a little more developed. He
had colossal biceps, and his chest, belly, and legs were tight with muscles.
Other riders drove cars, Seth used a locomotive, a fiery contraption he ran
himself, single-handed, doing the driving and the stoking of the hell-hot coal
furnace. It was the kind of activity that made a man more than just strong; it
filled him with an almost limitless reserve of force and will. He knew the
rails the way Bonner knew the roads. Seth knew which lines were still
passable, which switches still worked, which bridges still stood. "Plans?"
Bonner had heard that before. Plans always meant several thousand miles and
several thousand rounds of ammunition, as well as a lot of blood, pain, and