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

tell me what's happening. There were no more wars, not here, not in England. Why are they so
frightened? What were they running from?

The sirens had stopped. The screaming had not.

Stepping away from the wall, Miriam looked towards the lush green park. She had planned such a
lovely, leisurely stroll through those grounds, a journey to the lake where Arnold had taken her so many
years before. Had it been their first time of walking out? Such a silly woman: who used



such an expression nowadays? Walking out! But it was such a nice term. So ... so innocent! Had life
been so innocent? Not with Arnold, God rest his devious soul. In other ways, a good man though. A
generous man...

A push in the back almost sent her to her knees. No manners these days, no compassion for the
elderly. No consideration. Worse. Rape the elderly, slash the baby, were the latest perversions. Such
things!

The people were swarming down into the Underground station. Is that where I should be going?
Would it be safe there? They seemed to think so. If only I knew what I should be safe from. Let them go;
no sense in an old woman like me joining them. I'd be crushed and they wouldn't care. Tears began to
form in her eyes. They wouldn't care about an old woman like me, Arnold. Not these people today, not
these, these...

Something made her look at the sky. Her eyes were not too good, but was there something falling? An
object, moving so fast; was that what they were afraid of...?

She blinked because her tears had stung her pupils, and in the time it took for that movement, Miriam
and the milling, petrified тАШYourists and shoppers around her ceased to exist. Their clothes, their flesh,
their blood, and even their bones no longer were. Miriam had not even become ash. She had been
vaporized to nothing.

The garage had always sold the most expensive petrol in town, yet it had always been one of the
busiest. The owner, now busily stuffing his pockets with notes from the till -mostly tenners and fivers;
pounds were no good for buying petrol in these oil-starved times - knew that position was all, that a
prime location was the best asset any shop, pub or



garage could have. His Maida Vale address and corner position were expensive assets rates-wise, but
in business terms they could not be beat.

Howard turned sharply when a car in the forecourt tooted its horn. He couldn't believe his ears or eyes.
The warning sirens had ceased and, if it wasn't a false alarm, within a few minutes the city was going to
be blown to smithereens. So this bloody fool wanted petrol! He waved an irate hand at the motorist who
waved back and pointed at his fuel tank.

Howard banged the till shut, leaving loose change in there. Hell, it was only money. He stamped to the
door as the horn sounded again.