"Robert A. Metzger - Quad-World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Metzger Robert)

тАЬWhen you hang up the phone the arrow will lead you to the man who has just entered the building. I
suggest that you do this while the lights remain on. As a result of the large power drain from systems
activation earlier this day, there has not been sufficient time to recharge. I estimate less than five minutes
of lighting remain.тАЭ

I nodded stupidly at the phone for a second, then hung it up. The instant it hit its cradle the arrow flitted
across the floor and pulsed its way down the hallway. It got about six feet in front of me and then halted.

I shuffled a few steps in its direction, then stopped.

It pulsed a few more feet down the hallway, then stopped.

When I caught up with it, it made a turn at the first corridor intersection it encountered. I followed. It
traveled down another long, featureless hallway, then turned a corner and led me into a dead-ended
hallway. The arrow pulsed momentarily at a blank wall, then vanished.

The wall I faced hissed, and then detached itself, quickly sliding into the section of wall next to it. I
looked down at the floor, beyond where the wall had been, expecting to see the arrow, but it was still
gone.

I looked up, saw something, and then looked right back down at the floor. My fever must have been a
lot higher than I had imagined. There was no doubt about it, I was delirious.

I looked back up. What I had thought I had seen was still there. He stood at the end of this new hallway.
I had hoped that he would have vanished in a puff of smoke, or perhaps dribbled into the floor. No such
luck. It was amazing what my delirious brain was capable of generating. The guy was completely decked
out in a space suit. However, it was not one of those form-fitting white NASA jobs, but an aluminum-foil
special that sprouted a wild array of coat-hanger antennas. His left arm had been replaced with some sort
of manipulator that looked a hell of a lot like a lobster claw. He wore a leather belt with two holsters, one
of which held a pearl-handled pistol and the other what had to be his ray gun. This guy looked like a
refugee from a fifties sci-fi flick that had been shot over a weekend in someone's basement. All that was
missing to make him the perfect alien invader was the bubble space helmet. Instead, he wore a red
beret.

I watched him reach his right hand over his shoulder and tug at something that must have been strapped
to his back. Moving so quickly that he seemed to blur, that something was now in his hand. Colored a
dull gray, it looked like a toasterтАФtwo slices. He pointed it at my head.

Something finally leaked through to my brain. That voice that had earlier echoed in the back of my head
now told me that I was about to receive something much more lethal than a faceful of toasted raisin
bread.

His fingers seemed to have melted into the toaster's dull aluminum sides.

тАЬGood night!тАЭ he screamed in a screechy voice.

I wanted to jump, to find cover, but there was no place to hide. The corridor at my back didn't turn a
corner for at least fifty feet.