"Brian Lumley - Necroscope 10 - Lost Years 02 - Resurgence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

from the driver's window. The oval of her face was visible inside the fur-lined hood of her coat; she fumbled with payment for
her ride.
Then the taxi's door slammed; it pulled carefully away in a crump of crushed snow and a puff of exhaust smoke. And
clasping the neck of her coat close to her throat the girl tramped fresh-fallen snow towards the footbridge. But before she could
reach itтАФ
тАФOut of nowhere, the predator was there before her!
Her instinctive, involuntary gasp galvanized him to violent action. As her eyes went wide and she tried to jerk herself out of
reach, he stiff-fingered her deep in the stomach. And as the air she'd drawn to scream whooshed uselessly out of her and she
folded forward from the first blow, he hit her again; this time in the throat... but not hard enough to kill. Not yet
Choking, she crumpled; her feet shot out from under her on the
Necroscope:TheLostYears-Vol.II
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Brian Lumley
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icy surface. If he hadn't caught her she would have fallen. And with his right arm under her neck, breast, and armpit, and his other hand in her hair,
he dragged her writhing form back across the road to the side of the knoll.
He was tittering now but couldn't help it - little girl's laughter that bubbled up in his throat to spill from his mouth in short bursts -
hyena laughter, excited but muted: the call of a wild dog to the pack as it tracks its wounded prey. Hooting and giggling, but softly. And between
each crazed burst, a guttural, frothing spray of obscenity: 'Fuck, fuck,/we*/ Fuck, fuck, fuck? And his flesh hard and throbbing under the zipper of
his track-suit trousers.
The girl was making a recovery. She fought harder as he dragged her round the foot of the knoll to his snow-cave's low entrance. He paused
to grip her throat and crush it, shake her head like the head of a rag doll until she went quiet Then he was dragging her into his den ... his
red-glowing lust-lair.
Inside, he hauled her up alongside, kneeled over her. She moaned and clutched her throat, trying to breathe as he showed her his mad smile,
his teeth, his pig eyes. He wrenched at his zipper and his steaming meat jerked and nodded into view. Smelling it, her
eyes went wide with knowledge; she knew his intention, what he would do! Her coat was open; his hand raked down the front of
her blouse, caught at her bra, popped buttons and ripped material. Her breasts lolled out, hot and quivering.
'For you!' He waved his swollen, throbbing penis at her.
'Ur-ur-urghf She gurgled and choked, trying to rise up on her elbows. He backhanded her - not too hard, just a slap to let her
know who was boss here, which rocked her head back and stretched her prone - then reached down, snatched up her short skirt and groped
between her legs for her panties. God! He'd be into her in a minute ... biting her tits... shooting his spunk! A whole
year's worth into her hot, slimy littleтАФ
тАФHis obscene giggling and mouthings were cut short in a moment. For holding her neck, looking down between
her legs, looking back at the burrow entrance... someone was there!
He recognized the scene immediately, the prescience of it falling like a hammer blow on his mind, so that he jerked back from it as if shot. His
dream, but no longer a dream! The dark tunnel and yellow headlights; except, as he now saw, the headlights were eyes! Great yellow eyes,
triangular, unblinking, hypnotic, and oh so intelligent! And the voice when it came - that soft burr of a Scottish brogue, more
growled than spoken, but hinting of a monstrous strength - no longer the suppressed memory of a conversation but real, immediate, nw o!
You were warned, were ye no? /warned ye!'
тАвWhaтАФ?WhaтАФ?WhaтАФ?'
'I warned ye: this one was no for ye. To pursue her would place ye in jeopardy most extreme! Aye, but ye ignored mah warning! So be it...'
maтАФ? WhaтАФ? WhaтАФ?' He groped for his knife, found it; the blade gleamed red in red torchlight But the Thing inching forward
in the tunnel wasn't in the least afraid.
And suddenly: it was as if the predator were really there, back in his dream! Once again he stood on a black road
gazing into the yawning black throat of a tunnel, and as before he was frozen, unable to move a muscle, as something
awesome bore down on him in a dreadful, inexorable slow-motion. Its yellow eyes shone on him, freezing him rigid,
while the darkness surrounding those eyes grew darker yet...
It had never been a dream (he knew that now), but it was a nightmare! The headlight eyes expanding to envelop him.
The darkness opening to swallow him whole. The rumbling growl that wasn't the roar of an engine. But the eyes - those awful eyes