"Lumley, Brian - Necroscope - The Lost Years Volume 2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lumley Brian)

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blinding glare, froze him like a rabbit in his tracks. Then, from the utter darkness behind the dazzling yellow lights, a question:
'Why?"
And he knew the meaning of it, also that he must answer.
'Because I want her.'
'For her body?
ХYes.'
'Only for that? 'And for her life.' 'my?
'I can't leave a tndl. Can't leave any tracks.' 'Tracks?
'I mean, she would talk.' 'You've done it before...'
(But since it wasn't a question, there was no requirement to answer that one.) 'Have you done it before?
ХYes.' ,
'How often? I
'Three times.' p
'Murder? (A question this time).
'Not for the sake of murder, but for the sake of my needs...at first,
anyway.'
'You've killed innocents? "They weren't innocent! Shaking their backsides, flashing their [
tits! They were asking for it!' And att the while the yellow headlights expanding, coming ever closer;
and the darkness behind them and surrounding them growing darker
yet... ,
'When? |
'Soon. When it snows good and deep.' \
'Where? \
(Hesitation. He shouldn't be telling this, not even in a dream, not
even to himself. But he couldn 't refuse to answer). TH do it where she
lives.' 'How?
'Ill wait for her, and do it in the snow.' A long pause, and then: 'Ofyour own free witt, aye. But I warn you: rtts one is not for you. To
pursue and take her witt place you in extreme jeopardy! But if you, must
- so be it..." Then: The headlights sweeping upon him, expanding to envelop him! The
darkness opening, as if to swallow him whole! A rumbling growl that
wasn't the thunder of an engine. And the headlights...the headlights!
Not yellow but -- I
-- Red?
The man gave his head a shake, snapped out of it He had been daydreaming, staring at his red torches where he'd rammed their tubes into the soft snow walls. Staring as if hypnotized by them. Hypnotized? Had he been hypnotized by someone, somewhere? He blinked, then issued a snort of self-derision.
Maybe he was losing it Maybe he was mad! (Well of course he was, had to be -- a homicidal maniac!) But it didn't change anything. Neither did his dream, already slipping away, fading into the mists of his twisted mind. Nothing had been changed. His course was set He was going to do it
So be it!
Hidden in the shadow of the hillside, the Thing slid and tobogganed on her chest and belly down the slope of the saddle to level ground. She was only fifty feet or so from the predator's lair now; his man's scent hung heavy in the sharp, otherwise clean night air, which pulsed with his vibrations. He was a strong one, just as she remembered him. Good!
And his timing was perfect
Headlights on full beam sliced the night cut twin swaths through the silently falling snow, swung like searchlight beams towards the hamlet across the frozen beck but without reaching it Myriads of drifting snowflakes diffused the light reducing its penetrative power; likewise the sound of the taxi's engine, muffled by the snow. Maybe this was what the predator had been dreaming of: the arrival of the taxi, its lights and the purr of its engine.
And out from his lair he crept invisible in a white nylon track-suit and parka, the hood zipped to the neck and his face hidden behind a white stocking mask.
Meanwhile the taxi had slowed, turned, halted on the hard-standing; a female figure was getting out standing in the pale glow 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 it --
-- Out 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: The Lost Years -- Vol. II
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Brian Lumley