"Paul Levinson - Loose Ends (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Levinson Paul)

mercifully slight. He reached for the suitcase lodged neatly
against the window and fished inside for his clothing. Thank God
the case wasn't lost at the airport. And a good thing, too,
that it had been programmed to open only in response to his and
no one else's sweat. Otherwise he'd have had some explaining to
do about some of the contents.
He had to get out of here right away. He had to get back
to New York, back to the student lounge. He reached deeper
inside the suitcase. The rough fiber of the janitor's uniform
finally chafed his fingertips. He doubted that an NYU janitor
looked anything like the hospital variety, but this was still
his best choice. He dressed very carefully, praying that his
body would hold up long enough for him to walk out of this
horror-movie of a hospital -- this horror-show of a world.
Suitcase under his arm, he tiptoed to the door and opened
it a crack. His room seemed to be in the middle of a long,
orange-pink tiled corridor that stretched in either direction
with no one in sight. Peering out a bit more, he could see what
looked like a nurse's station down to his right. He hesitated.
His mind felt swollen and paranoid, he had no confidence in his
judgements. He didn't feel good about just walking out, but he
felt much worse about staying. He opened the door and strode as
casually as he could to the left.
He slowly became aware of voices ahead of him. He took a
few more steps, then stopped and listened. They were definitely
moving closer. He looked down the corridor the other way. Too
long a distance to try returning to his room. He glanced
quickly around at the rooms within reach and tried the door of
the nearest one.
Locked!
He tried another one.
Same result!
His hands grew moist and his head light and the voices
louder. He felt nauseated, as if he was about to vomit and pass
out. He breathed deeply, steadied himself, and tried another
door.
It opened! He leaned against the inside of the door,
thankful and quaking, until the entourage passed. From what he
could hear, they seemed to be just a team of porters.
Relaxing a bit, he groped for the light switch to see upon
whose room he had intruded. This was an extremely stupid move,
he realized just as his hand flicked the switch, for the patient
might well begin screaming. Fortunately the room seemed to be
some sort of storage facility.
He looked around and stopped on a lumpy something stretched
out in a far corner. Again his heart started pounding, for he
suddenly was sure he was looking at a dead body. He forced
himself to walk over and focus. The lumpy something was a long
bag of stained linen.
He resumed his journey down the corridor, this time with a