"McCammon, Robert R. - The Wolf's Hour" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)

The big man took one step forward, and kicked Gervaise in the left kneecap. Bones crunched, and the Frenchman screamed as he fell into the hay. Michael saw metal cleats glint on the killerТs boot soles.
Gervaise clutched his broken knee and moaned. Harzer leaned down. УYou didnТt think, did you?Ф He tapped the white-haired skull. УUse the brain! Where did the kite flier fall down?Ф
УI canТtЕ oh my GodЕ I canТtЕФ
Harzer said, УShit,Ф and stepped back.
Boots slammed his foot down on the old manТs right knee. The bones broke with pistolshot cracks, and Gervaise howled in agony.
УAre we teaching you how to think yet?Ф Harzer inquired.
Michael smelled urine. The old manТs bladder had let go. The smell of pain was in the air, too, like the bitter tang before a brutal thunderstorm. He felt his muscles moving and bunching under his flesh, and a sheen of sweat had begun to slick his body under his camouflage clothes. The change would be on him, if he wanted it. But he stopped himself on the wild edge; what good would it do? The Schmeissers would cut a wolf to pieces as easily as a human, and the way those troopers were spaced apart there would be no way to get all three of them and the tanks. No, no; there were some things a man was better at dealing with, and one of them was knowing his limits. He eased back from the change, felt it move over and away from him like a mist of needles.
The old man was sobbing and begging for mercy. Harzer said, УWeТve suspected for some time that Bazancourt is a center of spies. My job is ferreting them out. You understand that this is my job?Ф
УPleaseЕ donТt hurt me anymore,Ф Gervaise whispered.
УWeТre going to kill you.Ф It was a statement of fact, without emotion. УWeТre going to drag your corpse out to show the others. Then weТll ask our questions again. You see, your death will actually be saving lives, because someone will speak up. If no one speaks, weТll burn your village to the ground.Ф Harzer shrugged. УYou wonТt care, anyway.Ф He nodded at Boots.
Michael tensedЧbut he knew there was nothing he could do.
The old manТs mouth opened in a cry of terror, and he tried to crawl away on his shattered legs. Boots kicked him in the ribs; there was a noise like a barrel caving in, and Gervaise whined and clutched the splintered bones that had burst from his flesh. The next kick, with a cleated boot, caught the old manТs collarbone and snapped it. Gervaise writhed like a speared fish. Boots began to kick and stomp the old Frenchman to death, working slowly and with careful precisionЧa kick to the stomach to burst the organs, a stomp to the hand to smash the fingers, a kick to the jaw to snap its joints and send teeth flying like yellow dice.
УThis is my job,Ф Harzer told the bleeding, mangled face. УThis is what IТm paid for, you see?Ф
Boots kicked the old man in the throat and crushed his windpipe. Gervaise began strangling. Michael saw the sweat of effort glisten on BootsТs face; the man was unsmiling, his features like carved stone, but his pale blue eyes spoke of pleasure. Michael kept his gaze fixed on BootsТs face. He wanted to burn it into his brain.
Gervaise, with a final frenzied attempt, tried to crawl to the door. He left blood on the hay. Boots let him crawl for a few seconds, and then he stomped his right foot down on the center of the old manТs back and broke his spine like a broomstick.
УBring him out.Ф Harzer turned and strode quickly toward the other villagers and soldiers.
УI found a silver one!Ф A soldier held up a tooth. УDoes he have any more?Ф
Boots kicked the jittering body in the side of the head, and a few more teeth flew out. The soldiers bent down, searching for silver in the hay. Then Boots followed Harzer, and two of the soldiers picked up GervaiseТs ankles and dragged the corpse out of the barn.
Michael was left in darkness, the smell of blood and terror filled his nostrils. He shivered; the hair had risen on the back of his neck. УAttention!Ф he heard Harzer shout. УYour mayor has departed this life and left you all alone! IТm going to ask you two questions, and I want you to think carefully before you answerЕФ
Enough, Michael thought. It was time to ask his own questions. He stood up, went to the knothole. The gasoline smell was thicker. The man on the second tank was pouring in the last of the cans. Michael saw what had to be done, and he knew it had to be done now. He walked underneath the hole, pulled himself up onto the roof, and crouched there.
УWhere did the kite flier fall down?Ф Harzer was asking. УAnd who is helping him?Ф
Michael took aim and fired.
The bullet smashed into the gasoline can the crewman was holding. Two things happened at once: gasoline sloshed out of the can onto the manТs clothes, and sparks jumped off the edges of the bullet hole. HarzerТs shouting ceased.
The gasoline can exploded, and the crewman went up like a torch.
As the man danced and writhed and the fire burned blue in the puddle of fuel around the gas portal, Michael turned his attention to the three crewmen on the tank just below the barn roof. One of them had seen the automatic muzzle flash and was lifting his submachine gun. Michael shot him through the throat, and the submachine gun fired a pinwheel of tracers into the sky. Another man was about to shove himself headlong down the hatch. Michael fired, but the bullet clanged off metal; he shot again, and this time the man cried out and clutched his back, rolling off the tankТs side to the ground. Michael registered the fact that three bullets were left in the ColtТs magazine. The other crewman fled, running for cover. Michael jumped off the roof.
He landed on the tank near the main hatch with a shock that thrummed up his legs. He heard Harzer shouting for a machine gunner, and telling the soldiers to surround the barn. The hatch was still open, its rim smeared with German blood. Michael caught a movement to his right, almost behind him, and spun around as a soldier fired his rifle. The bullet passed between his knees and ricocheted off the hatchТs lid. Michael had no time to aim; he didnТt have to, because in the next instant a blast of bullets hit the German in the chest and lifted him off his feet before slamming him to the ground.
УGet in!Ф Gaby shouted, holding the smoking Schmeisser sheТd picked up from the first man Michael had shot. УHurry!Ф She reached up, grasped an iron handle, and pulled herself onto the tank. Michael stood stunned for a heartbeat. УDonТt you understand French?Ф Gaby demanded, her eyes full of fire and fury. A rifle spoke; two bullets whanged off the tankТs armor, and Michael needed no further persuasion. He jumped into the hatch, down into a cramped compartment where a small red bulb burned. Gaby followed him, reached up, and slammed the hatch shut, then dogged it tight.
УDown there!Ф Gaby shoved him deeper into the tankТs innards, and he slid onto an uncomfortable leather seat. In front of him was a panel of instrument gauges, what looked like a hand brake and a number of shift levers. On the floor were various pedals and before his face was a narrow view slit; to right and left were also view slits, and through the left one he saw the crewman burning on the ground beside the second tank, another man popping up from the tankТs hatch to shout, УTurret swivel right sixty-six degrees!Ф
The tankТs turret and stubby cannon began to crank around. Michael pressed his automaticТs muzzle against the view slit and squeezed the trigger, blasting a chunk out of the manТs shoulder. The German slid back into the tank, but the turret continued to swivel.
УStart us up!Ф Gaby shouted, an edge of terror in her voice. УRam him!Ф
Bullets were knocking against the tankТs armored sides like the impatient fists of a mob. Michael had seen this type of German tank in North Africa, and he knew how it was steeredЧby the levers, which regulated the gears and speed of the treadsЧbut heТd never driven a tank before. He searched in vain for a way to start it; then GabyТs hand slid down in front of his face, turned a key in an ignition switch, and there was a grinding, clattering roar followed by the hollow boom of a backfire. The tank was shuddering, its engine running. Michael pressed his foot down on what he hoped was the clutch and battled with the gearshift. A Jaguar touring sedan this was not; the gears ground together, finally meshed with the speed of fresh tar. The tank jerked forward, slamming MichaelТs skull back against the padded headrest. Up above him, in the gun loaderТs compartment, Gaby saw figures leaping up onto the tank through her own view slit; she thrust the SchmeisserТs barrel through it and raked bullets across two pairs of German legs.
Michael pressed the accelerator to the floor and wrenched on one of the levers. The tread on the right stopped and the left one kept going, turning the tank to the right; that wasnТt the direction Michael wanted to go, so he tried another of the levers and this time the left tread stopped and the right tread lunged forward, turning the tank sharply to the left and toward the enemy. The tank vibrated, but it obeyed Allied as well as Axis hands. Michael saw the second tankТs turret about to reach the sixty-six-degree mark.
He jammed on the brake. The second tankТs cannon spat fire.
There was a banshee scream, and a wave of oven heat hit MichaelТs face through the view slit. He had an instant of total confusion, not knowing whether heТd been blown to a million bits or notЧand then there came the explosion, out in the farmland maybe three hundred yards beyond Bazancourt.
He had no time for shock, and certainly none for panic. He hit the accelerator again, and the tank continued its sharp left turn. The treads flung up yards of earth. And then the second tank filled the view slit before him, its turret cannon still flickering fire.
УThat box behind you!Ф Gaby shouted. УReach into it!Ф Machine-gun bullets whined off the turret, making Gaby duck instinctively.
Michael reached into the box and came up with a steel-jacketed projectile. Gaby pulled a lever, twisted another one, and there was the sound of metal sliding open. УPut it here!Ф she said, and helped him fit the shell into the cannon breech. She slammed the breech shut, prickles of sweat on her face. УKeep us going straight!Ф she told him, and she pulled another lever. Something whined, beginning to charge up.
The second tank began to back away, its turret turning again to get off another shot. Michael manipulated the levers and held a steady course, heading right at the monster. A manТs head emerged from the hatch, shouting something that Michael couldnТt hear above the engineТs roar. But he could guess what the order was: Turret turn to ninety-eight degrees. That would give them a killing shot.
The cannon swiveled, seeking its target.
Michael started to hit the brake again, but stopped himself. They might expect him to halt this time. He kept pressing the accelerator, and a stray bullet hit the view slitТs edge to his right and knocked sparks all around him.
УHang on!Ф Gaby warned, and pulled a red trigger marked Feuern.
Michael thought that two things had happened concurrently: his eardrums had been blown out of his head and his bones had wrenched out of their sockets. He instantly knew, however, that his discomfort was mild compared to what befell the second tankТs crew.
In the rioting red glare of explosion and flames, Michael saw the entire turret sliced off the other tank like a scalpeled wart. Its cannon fired into the sky as the turret lifted up, spun twice around, and smashed into the dust. Two human torches leaped out of the monsterТs body and, screaming, ran in search of death.
Michael smelled cordite and seared flesh. Another explosion erupted from the other tank, sending pieces of metal banging down. Michael hit the brake and steered violently to the right to sweep past the gutted carcass.
German soldiers shouted and fled from the tankТs path. Michael saw two figures through the view slit: УFire! Fire!Ф Harzer was shouting, Luger in hand, but all order was gone. A few paces behind him, Boots watched impassively.
УThereТs the sonofabitch!Ф Gaby said. She reached up, unlocked the hatch, and threw it open before Michael could stop her. She lifted her head and shoulders out, took aim with the Schmeisser, and blew most of HarzerТs head away. His body took three steps backward before it crumpled, and Boots threw himself flat on the ground.
The tank roared past. Michael grasped GabyТs ankle and pulled her back in. She slammed the hatch shut, blue smoke curling from the SchmeisserТs muzzle. УAcross the field!Ф Gaby told him, and he drove straight ahead as fast as the tank could go.
Michael smiled tightly. He was sure Captain Harzer would understand that it had only been GabyТs job.
Its treads boiling up thick yellow dust, the tank rumbled on across the field, away from the village and the erratic flashes of gunfire. УTheyТll track us with the scout cars,Ф Gaby said. УTheyТre probably already calling for help. WeТd better get out while we can.Ф
Michael had no argument. He pulled another cannon shell out of the wooden box behind his seat and wedged it against the accelerator pedal. Gaby climbed up through the hatch, waited for Michael to join her, then tossed her Schmeisser over and jumped. He leaped off a couple of seconds later, and finally landed on the chalky soil of France.