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

The door to Mike's shop was locked. Pepper paused
for a second, glanced up and down the block, and then
kicked in the glass beside the door. I jumped at the
sound. Pepper reached inside and undid the latch.

"We'll have to tell Mike we did this," I said. I
wanted to add, "If we ever see him again." We stepped
inside. Mike had lived in Salem a hundred years and
there was nothing he couldn't fix-radios, TVs,
refrigerators-as long as they didn't have any
microchips in them. Mike hated any silicon wonders.
He called them microshits. His shop was simple,
crammed with the internal organs of modern conve-
niences. An oil-stained phone sat on his cluttered
workbench. Pepper picked it up.

"Who should we call first?" he asked.

"Information."

"Seriously?"

"I am serious," I said. "If they don't answer, call the
operator."

He did as I requested. Information was not there.
He tried the operator. The same thing. He slammed
down the phone. "There must be something wrong
with the lines," he said.

"Did you get a normal dial tone?" I asked.

"Yes, I got a normal dial tone."

I reached for the phone. "I want to call my grand-
mother in Portland. She hasn't left her house since I
was born." I dialed the number from memory. It rang
forever, although I kept praying for it to stop. But I
couldn't take the phone away from my ear. Pepper
finally had to put the receiver down. He was studying
me as if he was worried I was about to lose my mind.
He had every right to be concerned.

"Rox . . ." he began.

"There's no one there," I whispered. "The world's
empty."

"Don't talk like that. There's been an evacuation of
the area. The National Guard-"