"Robert McCammon - Doom City" - читать интересную книгу автора (McCammon Robert R)

where the traffic light was still obediently blinking yellow, a skeleton in
jogging gear lay sprawled on the ground. Its Nike sneakers were too small
for BradтАЩs feet, too large for KellyтАЩs. They kept going, and Kelly cried for a
few minutes but then she hugged her doll tighter and stared straight
ahead with eyes swollen almost shut.
And then Brad heard it, and his heart pounded with fear again.
Off in the fog somewhere.
The sound of a phone ringing.
Brad stopped. The phone kept on ringing, its sound thin and insistent.
 тАЬSomebodyтАЩs calling,тАЭ Kelly said, and Brad realised she was standing
right beside him. тАЬMy telтАЩphone number is 633-6949.тАЭ
He took a step forward. Another, and another. Through the fog ahead of
him he could make out the shape of a payphone there on the corner of
Dayton Street.
The telephone kept on ringing, demanding an answer.
Slowly, Brad approached the payphone. He stared at the receiver as if it
might be a cobra rearing back to strike. He did not want to answer it, but
his arm lifted and his hand reached towards that receiver, and he knew
that if he heard that silken breathing and the metallic recorded voice on
the other end he might start screaming and never be able to stop.
His hand closed around it. Started to lift it up.
тАЬHey, buddy!тАЭ someone said. тАЬI wouldnтАЩt answer that if I was you.тАЭ
Startled almost out of his skin, Brad whirled around.
A young man was sitting on the kerb across the street, smoking a
cigarette, his legs stretched out before him. тАЬI wouldnтАЩt,тАЭ he cautioned.
Brad was oddly shocked by the sight of a flesh-and-blood man, as if heтАЩd
already forgotten what one looked like. The young man was maybe in his
early twenties, wearing scruffy jeans and a dark green shirt with the
sleeves rolled up. He had sandy-brown hair that hung to his shoulders, and
he looked to have a couple of daysтАЩ growth of beard. He pulled on the
cigarette and said, тАЬDonтАЩt pick it up, man. Doom City.тАЭ
тАЬWhat?тАЭ
тАЬI said ... Doom City.тАЭ The young man stood up; he was about six feet,
thin and lanky. His workboots crunched leaves as he crossed the street,
and Brad saw that he had a patch on the breast pocket of his shirt that
identified him as a Sanitation Department workman. As the young man
got closer, Kelly pressed her body against BradтАЩs legs and tried to hide
behind the Smurf doll. тАЬLet it ring,тАЭ the young man said. His eyes were
pale green, deep-set and dazed. тАЬIf you were to pick that damned thing up
... Doom City.тАЭ
тАЬWhy do you keep saying that?тАЭ
тАЬBecause it is what it is. SomebodyтАЩs tryinтАЩ to find all the strays. TryinтАЩ
to run us all down and finish the job. Sweep us all into the gutter, man.
Close the world over our heads. Doom City.тАЭ He blew a plume of smoke
into the air that hung between them, unmoving.
тАЬWho are you? WhereтАЩd you come from?тАЭ
 тАЬNameтАЩs Neil Spencer. Folks call me Spence. IтАЩm a ...тАЭ He paused for a
few seconds, staring along Baylor Street. тАЬI used to be a garbage man. тАШTil
today, that is. тАШTil I got to work and found skeletons sitting in the garbage
trucks. That was about three hours ago, I guess. IтАЩve been doinтАЩ a lot of