"071 (B066) - Mad Mesa (1939-01) - Lester Dent" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

THE bronze man's tone was calm, but the three gunmen stiffened and instantly pointed their weapons at Doc; so it was evident they had heard a good deal about him.
"The less words you use," one of them said, "the longer you'll live!"
"Mind giving a reason for this?" Doc asked.
The man scowled, and finally said, "A girl tried to get in touch with you."
"I know that," Doc said.
The man stuck out his lower lip. "Let's hope that's all you'll ever know."
Renny rumbled, "I don't like the way he said that!"
There was more silence, until one of the men picked up the package which Doc had been carrying, and which he had brought into the van. The man tore the paper apart and contemplated the contents, puzzled.
"What's this?" he wanted to know.
"Weeds," Doc said.
The man used the fingers of his left hand to twist the end of his nose around thoughtfully for a while, after which he wadded the "weeds" up in the paper and hurled them in a corner.
"Hell!" he said.
There was a small barred window in the forward end of the truck van; the sun was now so low that its rays blazed directly through the window, making a large barred patch of light on the van interior. Renny got the attention of their captors and pointed.
"You're liable to see your sunsets with that pattern for a long time," Renny remarked. "Through jail bars, I mean."
"At least, I'll be cooler," one of the men said, "than where you're going."
And all three gun holders showed their teeth with unpleasant satisfaction.
IT is a fact which cannot be disputed that nature is not only the greatest creator, but also the most grim destroyer. Nature can build an ocean like the Atlantic, but Boulder Dam is the best man has been able to do. Nature can wipe out an Ohio valley town with a flood; the best man can do is blow up a few houses at a time with bombs.
The burning coal beds are a case in point. Lightning or natural combustion sets a vein of coal afire, and it burns underground, sometimes for years, and covering areas of thousands of acres.
Where there is a burning coal bed, the earth splits cracks yards wide, the cracks pour forth lurid fumes, and deep in the apertures there is white heat that will promptly melt steel. At night, gory red glow and sulphurous stink comes out of the bowels of the earth. A burning coal bed is a closer imitation of hell than any Hollywood movie mogul will ever create.
The truck stopped on a hill and waited for complete darkness. The spot was a lonesome one, for no one cared to live within miles of the hell-stink of a burning coalfield. At the foot of the hill, the earth glowed red veins, and yellowish smoke crawled upward. Years ago all hope of extinguishing this coalfield fire had vanished.
The prisoners had not been permitted to look out of the van interior.
"I smell sulphur," Monk muttered.
Doc Savage made his small, exotic trilling sound, and it had a startled, uneasy quality, for he understood what the stink of sulphur meant.
The van door opened, and their captors got in. It was so dark that the men were using flashlights.
"Lie down!" one snarled. "We're gonna tie you!"
Doc and his men could either permit themselves to be tied, or get shot. They let the men tie them. The waitress whimpered and screamed; so they gagged her.
"Maybe we better gag 'em all," a man suggested.
Doc and the others were gagged with sleeves torn off their own arms.
"Now there won't be any yellin' when them and the truck go into one of those cracks," a man growled.
The men got out, stood waiting for it to get darker. They contemplated the burning coalfield. The appalling nature of the thing, and its resemblance to Hades, evidently gave each one of them a bad case of red ants on the mind, because they kept talking.
"You sure this will finish 'em, Heek?" one asked.
The man called Heek snorted. "Listen, we drive that truck in one of them cracks, and in five minutes it'll be a puddle of melted iron. The truck, all the bodies, will be gone."
The first man muttered, "It seems kind of a nut way of doing."
"Listen," said Heek, "did you ever try to get rid of a body? By damn, I did one time."
"You did. When was that?"
"The hell with you," Heek said.
There were clouds packed in the sky, and finally it became intensely dark. The men could see each other only as lurid devillike shapes against the crimson fumes of the burning coal bed.
"I'll get in there and make sure they're tied," said Heek, the man who had once tried to dispose of a body.
Heek climbed into the truck. The others stood outside. They kept close together, making their eardrums crack with listening, for they were naturally afraid of being discovered at the last minute. They heard grunting and scraping sounds from inside the truck.
"Heek's doin' a good job of makin' sure they're tied tight," a man mumbled.
It seemed a long time before Heek's voice spoke from the van.
"Don't show any lights," the voice ordered. "Ain't no use takin' chances."
The vicinity of the truck remained black.
"You guys stick here," Heek's voice continued. "I'll drive the truck into a crack."
THERE were no objections to Heek taking care of that part of the job. It was Heek who had known of this place, so it seemed appropriate for him to take care of the dirty work. The other three stood back.
A shadowy form moved around to the front of the truck and disappeared behind the wheel. The engine came to life; the big van lurched toward the inferno at the foot of the hill.
Once the machine paused, and they could hear the engine laboring.
"I hope Heek don't get stuck," a man gasped.
The truck went on after a moment. It moved like a square-backed turtle. Drawing near one of the largest cracks, it seemed to have trouble again. It came to a standstill.
"Hey!" Heek's voice yelled. "I think I'm stuck! C'mon and help!"