"Guy N. Smith - Night Of The Crabs 2 - Crabs Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

Now he was beneath the surface again, convulsed and defeated, no longer trying
to escape but offering what was left of his body so that the end might be
quick.

That face, so close to his own, so malignant, blazing crustacean hate for a
mortal foe. Holding him firmly but gently, swivelling him around in the way a
killer cat plays with a half-mutilated captive vole. Look and see before you
die!
Not just one face, dozens of them, a ring of hateful countenances in a wide
circle just below the surface. Watching. Waiting. Gloating!

For Christ's sake, kill me!

Click-click-clickety-click. A crab castanets sound, a symphony of death; slow
death.

For Baxter everything was suddenly happening in slow motion. He was being held
by a bloody stump of a thigh, a floating captor who no longer fought his
attackers. The physical agony was slowly being replaced by a numbness as
Nature's own anaesthetic relieved his mutilated body. Blood poured
relentlessly from his gory wounds, creating again that crimson underwater
hell.

It couldn't be happening, of course. Well, not like this. These monstrosities
were figments of his tortured mind. He had got caught up in something, his
original theory. Sharp rusting steel that had severed his limbs when he had
struggled. Of course, he was going to die. It didn't seem so bad once you were
faced with it; you spent your whole life being scared of dying but it really
wasn't so terrible after all.

A fleeting memory brought a twinge of regret to his brain that was having
difficulty functioning. That girl, damn it, he couldn't even remember her name
now. He wished he'd stopped in the dunes and screwed her. That had been his
big mistake, leaving her there and going for a swim in this God-awful crimson
sea. He gave a laugh-at least he meant to even if he didn't manage it-one
thing was for sure, he wouldn't be any fucking good to her now!

And for Keith Baxter the awful crimson around him darkened so that he neither
saw nor felt anything as the giant crabs closed in on him, ripping his torn
body apart with unprecedented fury, then crunching on his remains in a bloody
feast where sheer hunger predominated. Then the creatures moved away and the
water cleared again.




Chapter Two

Friday Evening - Shell Island