"Alan Mcgregor - Angels Of Mercy" - читать интересную книгу автора (McGregor Alan)

"I'm not sure." Frank knew why she was alarmed. There were no sounds of ambulances
or of people yelling or screaming. There were no sounds of rescuers frantically
searching for victims. There were no sounds of rescue machinery. There was nothing.
Just a stillness, a silence. They were completely isolated from all that might be
happening outside of wherever they were and it scared Frank silly.

He felt something move against him. It was her. She was lending him her warmth. He
fell into a fitful and pain-riddled sleep.

***

When Frank awoke, their predicament was all too clear. He was horrified at the
destruction around them. "Ma'am," he whispered. She was still lying against him,
asleep.

She stirred. "Whaaaat...?" she said lazily, as if she were awakening from a pleasant
dream. "Oh!" she cried, as she suddenly became aware of her surroundings. She
struggled to sit up. She looked around them, confused. "Dear Jesus," she sobbed, when
she finally realized where they were.

He took her hand. It was trembling. She was gasping in rapid bursts of panic. "We're in
a fix, alright," he said, trying to keep the panic out of his own voice.

"In a fix" was one of his grandest understatements. In the daylight Frank could now see
that they had been blown into an alley. Both ends were blocked by collapsed walls of
the end buildings that had caved into it, effectively sealing them off. And even though it
appeared as if their being blown into the alley may have protected them and saved their
lives, if they couldn't get out, this life-saving space could very well become their tomb.

A quick scan from his vantage point of flat on his back showed him there were no alley-
access doors they could go through to escape to the outside street. "It looks bad,
doesn't it?" Frank murmured.

The woman began to sob. "I can't get you out, Father."

So she had noticed his priest collar under his jacket. Damn! he cursed inwardly. "Call
me Frank," he whispered. "Please call me Frank."

"But--"

"I insist. What's your name?" He looked kindly at her, then wiped her tears away with his
thumb.

"Zanax," she choked.
"That's your street name, isn't it?"

"Yes." She began to cry again. "I saw the look in your eye when we met on the street. I
don't know why it bothered me so, but it did. Then I began to feel odd, as if I were
choking, or something. Then I stumbled and--"