"William Mark Simmons - Undead 2 - Dead on My Feet" - читать интересную книгу автора (Simmons William Mark)

"Chatty folk, these luau."
"They say this is very important. They say you must save the child twice and bury the dead three
times!"
What do you say to that?
There was nothing to say to that.
I forced my feet to carry me away from the fearful quality of her voice. I was careful not to slam the
door. And I tried to exhibit dignity and decorum as I walked back to my car.
Mostly I tried to not break into a panic-stricken run.
The 1950 Mercury Club Coup├й crouched in Mama Samm's rutted driveway like a prehistoric
panther. The chopped roofline, narrow tinted windows, and minimal chrome chasing were swallowed up
in the darker than black paint job that would render it practically invisible after sunsetтАФa state I wanted
to achieve soonest. Sliding behind the wheel, I counted to seven before turning the key in the ignition and
pressing the starter button.
"So what did you think?" Jenny asked as the engine growled to life.
"You know what I think," I growled in turn as I backed the car up the long, hedged drive toward the
main road. "You were right there inside my head through the whole visit."
She sighed but remained invisible, sitting in the passenger's seat. "Eventually, you're going to have to
break down and admit that I am not just a virus-induced hallucination. Look . . ." The passenger window
rolled itself down. "How could I do that if I'm not real?"
I leaned my head against the wheel and reminded myself that I was doing nothing more than
conducting an internal conversation . . . externally. "Some of the by-products of my altered brain
chemistry are certain telekinetic abilities," I announced to the empty seat. "If I can transport my body
along the dreampaths, I can certainly fiddle with a car window without tweaking any of my conscious
brain cells."
"Car," she said as I started to back onto the main road. As I hit the brakes, a gold Dodge Stratus
popped into view from around the curve.
"Doesn't prove anything," I muttered as I got turned around and headed back toward town.
"Check the answering machine when we get home, Darling. You've got a couple of calls that sound
promising. They were both long distance so I think your web page is starting to pay off."
"What do you mean 'promising'?"
"The first was an invitation to investigate a purported haunting in Tulsa, Oklahoma. The second was
from Kansas City, Missouri. Something about a missing mummy."
"Missing mummy?"
 "Uh huh. Couple named Satterfield. Said they had a mummy that was stolen out of their house. Since
owning a dead body is not exactly legal, they couldn't exactly report the crime to the authorities."
"I see," I said. "And when did this unreported crime take place?"
"About six months ago. They said they had loaned an authentic copy of the Scroll of Thoth to an
acquaintance the day before their mummy disappeared. Really, Chris; you need to do a much better job
of cleaning up after yourself in the future!"
"Hey, I had no idea that the scroll would even work, much less have any long-distance peripheral
side-effects."
"Ignorance is no excuse," she argued. "You still have an obligation to a former client to tidy up."
I cleared my throat. "Sounds like a pretty detailed answering machine message."
"I picked up during the call," she said. "I told them I was your secretary."
"You can't do that," I said.
"Why? Because I'm only a subconscious manifestation of your deteriorating psyche?"
"Something like that. How come you're still invisible? No one can see you but me."
"I didn't want to distract you while you're driving."
"Distract me?"
"I'm not wearing any underwear."