"Keith Laumer - Future Imperfect" - читать интересную книгу автора (Laumer Keith)

I nodded toward his hand. He lifted it half an inch, let it fall back.
"The ring. I should have gotten rid of it, but. . . ."
"Now take your beans like an old campaigner."
He gritted his teeth, twisted his face. "Can't eat," he protested. "God, the pain. . . ."
I tossed the can aside. "I'm going out and check the car," I said. "Then I'll be back for you."
"Listen," he croaked. "You think I'm raving, but I know what I'm saying. Get clear of this
townтАФnow. Got no time to explain. Just move out."
I grunted at him, went out into the street, recovered my plank, propped it with its end resting
on the upper edge of the ravine that split the pavement. It was a shaky bridge; I went up it on all
fours. As I was about to rise and step clear, I saw a movement ahead. My car sat ten yards away
where I had left it, thickly coated now with new-fallen pumice. A man was circling it warily. He
stepped in close, wiped a hand across the canopy, peered into the interior. I stayed where I was,
kneeling on the plank over the dark fissure, just the top of my head above ground level.
The man went around to the driver's side, flipped the lever that opened the hatch, thrust his
head inside. I shifted position, eased my gun out. I could not afford to be robbed of the carтАФnot
here, not now.
Instead of climbing in, he stepped away from the car, stood looking intently around at the
ruined storefronts. He took a step my way, abruptly stopped dead, reached inside his coat, snatched
out a small revolver, brought it up and in the same movement fired. The bullet threw dust in my
face, sang off across the street and struck wood with a dull smack. Two more shots cracked before
the first had stopped echoingтАФall this in perhaps three-quarters of a second. I hugged the board
under me, dragged my gun clear as another shot scored concrete inches from my face. I squinted
through haze, centered my sights on the black necktie of the man as he stood with his feet planted
wide apart, frowning down the length of his outstretched arm. His small automatic flashed bright in
the same instant that my shot boomed. He leaped back, bounced against the side of the car, went
down on his back in the dust.
My breath went out in a long sigh, I holstered the .38, scrambled up to stand on the side of the
riven street. He was lying on his side like a tired bum curled up for a nap, his face resting in a black
paste of bloodied dust, lots of dustcaked blood on his shirt front. He was wearing a neat, dark suit,
now dusty, new-looking shoes with almost unscratched soles. His age might have been anything
from thirty-five to fifty. His eyes were open and a film of dust had already dimmed their shine. One
hand was outflung, still holding the gun. I picked it up, looked it over absently. It was a Spanish
automatic, nickel-plated. I tossed it aside, went through his coat pockets, found nothing except a
small rectangle of paper stating that the garment had been checked by Inspector 13. Maybe that had
been a bad omen. But then maybe he had not believed in omens.
His pants pockets were as empty: no wallet, no identification. He was as anonymous as a store-
window dummy. And he had tried, without warning and without reason, to kill me on sight.
***
 Back inside the store, the man with the broken legs lay where I had left him, staring toward me
with glass eyes in a skull face.
"I met your friend," I said. My voice sounded strange in my ears, like an announcement
beyond the grave.
"You're all right," he gasped.
"He wasn't very smart," I said. "Perfect target. He shot at me. I didn't have much choice." I felt
my voice start to shake. I was not used to killing men.
"Listen," the skull-face said. "Get out nowтАФwhile you can. There'll be more of themтАФ"
"I killed him," I said. "One shot, one dead man." I looked down at the gun at my hip. "The
world is coming apart and I'm killing men with a gun." I looked at him. "Who was he?"
"Forget him! Run! Get away!"
I squatted at his side. "Forget him, huh? Just like that. Get in my car and tootle off, whistling a