"James Herbert - Domain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Herbert James)

man-activated rays, rising high into the skies, later to settle on the destroyed city as lethal fallout.

The angry cloud with its stem of white heat was more than six miles high and still rising, banishing the
noonday sun, when the next missile detonated its warhead.

Three more megaton bombs were soon to follow...




Miriam stood transfixed.

What was happening? Why the panic? And that dreadful wailing noise of just a few minutes before.
The sirens of World War Two. Oh no, it couldn't be happening again!
 She was too stunned, too frightened, to move. All around people were pushing, shoving, running in
fear. Of what? Aeroplanes with bombs? Surely that didn't happen any more. She should have paid more
attention to the news. Should have listened more closely to her neighbours. Miriam recalled hearing
something on the radio about tension in the Middle East; but she'd been hearing that for years and years.
It didn't mean anything any more. It was just news, words, items read out by smooth-voiced young men
and women. It had nothing to do with shopping at Tesco's and washing dirty sheets and spoiling
grandchildren and living in Chigwell. And nothing to do with her.

Sixty-seven years old, wide-eyed and bewildered, Miriam stood on the corner of Oxford Street and
Marble Arch. It should have been such a lovely day: hot, sunny, June; a day out, a special treat. A whole
day just wandering around the shops looking - though not intensely - for a suitable present for Becky's
wedding. Beautiful grand-daughter, nice sensible chap she was marrying, a wonderful match. Arnold,
God rest him, God forgive him, would have approved. The boy - not



handsome, true, but life was never too bountiful - had good manners and business sense. Becky would
supply the beauty in the match, and if she, Miriam, knew her daughter's daughter, the driving power
behind the man. A match made in heaven maybe not, for certainly the connivance of prospective (and
prospecting) in-laws had laid the foundations. Call it an old-fashioned arrangement, but there were a few
good families still left who followed the old ways.

What to buy? Not to worry - money was the main present. No forced thin-lipped thank-yous with
such a gift. Something in glass or something practical for the wrapped present. Both. A set of crystal
glasses, that would be ideal. She had smiled at her own solution.

The smile had vanished when the wailing began.

A young couple collided with her, knocking her back against a window. The girl went down and her
companion roughly jerked her to her feet, one hand pushing against Miriam's chest. He shouted
something, but Miriam could not understand, for her heart was beating too loudly and her ears were filled
with the cries of others. The young couple staggered away, trails of mascara on the girl's cheeks
emphasizing the blood-drained whiteness of her face. Miriam watched them disappear into the crowd,
her breathing now coming in short, sharp gasps. She silently cried for her late husband: Arnold, tell me,