"Pike, Christopher - Whisper Of Death.(1991)TXT" - читать интересную книгу автора (Pike Christopher)

I stumbled into the town square and collapsed on
the lawn beside the statue of David Fitzpatrick-the
town's founding father. He was covered with bird
lime, as usual, but there were no birds. They must
have all flown away, into a sky above mine.

"Help!" I finally screamed. My voice echoed
against the watching buildings, until it became an
echo of an echo, and was lost. I buried my face in my
hands, thankful that they at least had not deserted me.
Tears filled my eyes, and I cried, but only quietly and
to myself because there was no one there to share
them with. I was not merely confused. I was lost. Lost
in a town I had lived in all my life.

Time did not go by. That would have been a joke.
Time had already packed its bags and left town. But
something passed, and then after a while I became
aware that someone was standing above me. I raised
my eyes. I had to look into the sun to see him. Just like
the first time. Just as I'd looked into the rising sun
when I spotted the lone hitchhiker on the empty
highway.

"Pepper," I said.

"Where is everybody?" he asked.

CHAPTER III


Pepper told me his story. His aunt and uncle had been
out when he'd gone into the house. The fact hadn't
disturbed him greatly, but when he had lain down to
sleep, the creepy feeling he'd felt at the gas station
wouldn't go away. He got up and called me, but I must
have already been out and pounding on the neighbors'
doors. He called a few friends, but no one was home.
He didn't turn on the radio or TV, but started walking
toward the center of town as I had done, calling out
for anyone to answer. Finally, of course, he found me.

We sat on a bench in the center of the town square
as we caught up on each other's stories. To say there
was a feeling of unreality to our situation would have
been like saying the sun was hot. We sat on a bench in
the shade, but we were perspiring. Both our shirts
were stained with cold sweat.