"George R. R. Martin - WC 2 _ Aces HIgh" - читать интересную книгу автора (Martin George R R)

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Wildcards II: Aces HighAces High
Book 2 of Wildcards
Edited by George R.R. Martin
ISBN: 0-553-26464-8


1979


PENNIES FROM HELL
By Lewis Shiner
There were maybe a dozen of them. Fortunato couldn't be sure exactly because
they kept moving, trying to circle behind him. Two or three had knives, the rest
had sawed-off pool cues, car antennas, anything that would hurt. They were hard
to tell apart. Jeans, black leather jackets, long, slicked-back hair. At least
three of them matched the vague description Chrysalis had given him.
"I'm looking for somebody called Gizmo," Fortunato said. They wanted to herd him
away from the bridge, but they didn't want to physically push him yet. To his
left the brick path led uphill into the Cloisters. The entire park was empty,
had been empty for two weeks now, since the gangs had moved in.
"Hey, Gizmo," one of them said. "What do you say to the man?"
That one, with the thin lips and bloodshot eyes. Fortunato locked eyes with the
kid nearest to him. "Take off," Fortunato said. The kid backed away, uncertain.
Fortunato looked at the next one. "You too. Get out of here." This one was
weaker; he turned and ran.
That was all he had time for. A pool cue came slicing for his head. Fortunato
slowed time and took the cue, used it to knock away the nearest knife. He
breathed in and things sped up again.
Now they were all getting nervous. "Go," he said, and three more ran, including
the one called Gizmo. He sprinted downhill, toward the 193rd Street entrance.
Fortunato threw the pool cue at another switchblade and ran after him.
They were running downhill. Fortunato felt himself getting tired, and let out a
burst of energy that lifted him off the path and sent him sailing through the
air. The kid fell under him and rolled, headfirst. Something crunched in the
kid's spine and both his legs jerked at once. Then he was dead.
"Christ," Fortunato breathed, brushing dead October leaves from his clothes. The
cops had doubled patrols around the park, though they were afraid to come in.
They'd tried it once, and it had cost them two men to chase the kids away. The
next day the kids were back again. But there were cops watching, and for
something like this they'd be willing to run in and pick up a body.
He dumped the kid's pockets, and there it was-a copper coin the size of a
fifty-cent piece, red as drying blood. For ten years he'd had Chrysalis and a
few others watching for them, and last night she'd seen the kid drop one at the
Crystal Palace.
There was no wallet, nothing else that had any meaning. Fortunato palmed the
coin and sprinted for the subway entrance.
"Yes, I remember this," Hiram said, picking the coin up with a corner of his
napkin. "It's been a while."