"Dean Wesley Smith - Men in Black 2 - The Grazer Conspiracy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Dean Wesley)

work and never grew tired of the view on clear nights. He loved the feeling of
standing over the entire world and just watching it. And he loved the intense
silence of the nights, as if the laughs and shouts of the skiers during the day
had never existed.
He took a long, deep breath, trying to clear the last grease from his nose and
lungs with the crisp cold air. His job during the winter was cooking in the
lodge. He had grilled thousands of hamburgers over the winter season. Earlier
tonight, in preparation for closing part of the kitchen the second week of
April, he had helped clean out one of the exhaust fans over the grills. It had
been coated with grease so thick they ended up filling buckets with it. He
needed this time in the cold, clean night air to clear his lungs.
And to think.
At the moment his girlfriend was mad at him.
That seemed to be a regular occurrence. For some reason they argued just about
every other day about something. It was always stupid, and often pointless. But
the making up was always fun. The argument yesterday, however, had been about
getting married, something he had no desire to do.
The worst thing in his life at the moment was that the draft board was after
him. They wanted to send him to Vietnam and he had no idea what he would do. Or
could do. He couldnтАЩt imagine being a soldier and killing people.
skiing had been his entire life. On the mountain, on snow, was the only time he
really felt alive. Vietnam was a hot jungle on the nightly news where people
died. It had never occurred to him that he would do anything but work around ski
resorts. And ski. The war in Vietnam seemed so distant, the social and racial
revolution in the cities around the country so alien.
And so confusing.
He took another deep breath of the clear mountain air and let the cold push the
thoughts back. He would figure all that out tomorrow. Girlfriend, Vietnam,
everything.
Right now he still had time for at least two more runs before having to store
his skis for the night and head down the curving miles into town in his
Volkswagen. And since there werenтАЩt many days left in the season, he shouldnтАЩt
be wasting time worrying about things he couldnтАЩt do anything about.
With one last look out over the lights below, he turned and started toward the
ski run, pushing off with his poles and skating over the packed surface.
Suddenly a rainbow of colored lights shimmered in the darkness to the right of
the chair lift.
тАЬWhat?тАЭ Anthony said, stopping and staring, half leaning on his ski poles.
The lights swirled faster and faster, expanding, seeming to come down from the
sky. Other than the clicking of the lift delivering empty chair after empty
chair, there was no sound.
Or heat.
Just sparkling lights that spun in the crisp night air.
Suddenly the lights snapped into a shape, forming what looked like a door in the
side of a weird-looking dark oval.
тАЬCandid Camera or Twilight Zone, I hope,тАЭ Anthony said. His voice didnтАЩt carry
far down the mountain.
Slowly the door opened just above the smooth-packed snow.
Anthony half expected it to creak, or air to go whooshing past him, but nothing
happened.