"G. Howell - The Human Memoirs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Howell G)

At the touch of a key, the featureless black wall above the monitor
flickered, text appeared on it, the lights dimmed. Without another word the
pair settled back in their chairs and began to read.



________________________________________________________________



THE HUMAN MEMOIRS



This ain't no technological breakdown,
this is the road to hell. . .



Chris Rea's voice faded in a burst of white noise, then pulsed back to
full strength again as the transistor radio swung like a electronic pendulum
from the dash. The headlamps of the world-weary Deuce n' a Half illuminated
the road ahead for fifty meters in the clear night air, the catseyes down the
center glaring back at the truck as the lights swept over and past them. I
squirmed on the uncomfortable seat, trying to work some feeling back into my
numb tailbone. I think they cut cost in the earlier models: welding the axle
directly to the chassis without bothering with suspension.
"Will you stop squirming like that!" Tenny Dalton shifted gear and
glared at me, his face turned into a cragged monstrosity by the faint green
glow of the dash. The stub of cigar jutting from his mouth glowed like a
malevolent LED. "You got a rash or something?"
"Not yet," I groaned and stretched melodramatically, "but it's only a
matter of time. Where are we anyway?"
"How should I know? You've got the map."
"You don't NEED a map!" I protested, then rubbed my eyes and picked up
the flashlight from the dash, illuminating my watch. "Shit. We should have
caught up with them an hour ago."
"Hey! I've been going where you tell me. You sure it's the right
damned road?"
I leaned back and flashed the battered old angelhead at the map
strapped to the dash. "Uh, what's this road?"
"Ah. . . last sign was US29 to Charlottesville."
"Uh-huh." I squinted at the map. "Uh. . .Yeah, that's what I've got
here. How long ago was that? Half an hour?"
"'Bout that."
"Well, next stop's. . . " I peered at the confusion of lines,
"Lynchburg. . . I think. That's not too far now. Might catch up there."
"Shit. Better hope we do," Tenny growled. "Can't you imagine it?
Trundling into camp two hours after the others. A truckload of live ammo
rolling around the countryside unescorted, SOP out the window. . . Shit,