"Jerry Oltion - The Miracle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Oltion Jerry)

The preachers tried a simultaneous assault, and this time Dr. Richards let them
have a direct zap from the tip of the wire. He didn't even have to touch them;
as soon as they drew close, an enormous arc leaped from wire to preachers,
connecting all three in a momentary circuit that blew them backwards, their hair
sticking straight outward and sparks dancing on their gold jewelry.

The flying preachers crashed into the people behind them, slowing their advance,
but the crowd on the other side was still coming. "Behind you!" Greg yelled, and
Dr. Richards swung around with the wire, spraying sparks and lightning bolts
like water from a fire hose. The fortunate leaped back before the electricity
hit them; the less so flew backward involuntarily when the current jolted their
leg muscles.

Shouts of anger turned to shouts of dismay. Dr. Richards circled around and
around, but even so, the pressure from behind as more people rushed the top of
the hill kept forcing people into the path of the discharge. Greg expected to be
overrun and crushed any minute now, like the soccer fans in Liverpool who'd been
caught against a fence during a riot, but as the crowd thickened, their
electrical contact with one another allowed the jolts to spread through the
entire throng, and the ones in back began to turn away.

Also, the discharge seemed to be growing stronger. Now lightning sprayed out six
or seven feet from the end of the wire, and grapefruit-sized balls of plasma
broke free and drifted like balloons over the heads of the crowd. Occasionally
one would descend and burst with a clap of thunder, sending another wave of
static electricity coursing through the tangle of bodies.

Eventually the tide turned, and the angry mob of religious pilgrims became a
fleeing horde of terrified refugees. The ground rumbled with their retreat as
they fled down the flanks of the hill, careening into one another and screaming
for God to save them.

"Looks like God's on the side of science for a change," Greg said, but then he
looked up at Dr. Richards and realized he'd spoken too soon. The entire length
of wire was glowing blue, and the discharge at its tip continued to grow.

"It's getting kind of warm," the professor said nervously.

"Can't you let go?" Greg asked.

"Not without getting zapped myself when the circuit breaks. And you guys will
get it too if you don't move clear."
The reporters and camera crew backed away a few dozen feet, but Greg stayed put.
He took off his T-shirt and wadded it up for Dr. Richards to use as a hot-pad,
and helped support his tiring upstretched arm.

Greg hoped the camera guys were getting this. He and the professor looked
impressive as hell, a little like the famous statue of the marines raising the
flag atop Mount Suribachi on Iwo Jima.