"Norman Spinrad - Journals of the Plague Years 1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Spinrad Norman)

Afterward, as I held him, he spoke to me one last time. "Now for my last
wish," he said.
"Haven't I just given it to you? "
"You know you haven't."
"What then?"
"You know, my dear."
 So I did. I had accepted it when I took his ravaged manhood inside my
unprotected body. I knew that now. I knew that I had known it all along.
"Will you take up this torch from me?" he said, holding out his hand.
"Yes, Max, I will," I promised and reached for the phantom object.
"Then this old faggot can go out happy," he said. And died in my arms
with a smile on his lips.
And I became Our Lady. Our Lady of the Living Dead, as they were to call
me.

JOHN DAVID

San Diego was crawling with SPs, and they probably would have sent in
commando units to hunt us down, if they weren't so terrified of what would
happen if the citizens were to find out that hundreds of us zombies were loose
and on the warpath in the good old US of A.
And we were, meatfuckers, better believe it! Wouldn't you? Sooner or
later they were going to get us all, and if they didn't, the Plague would, and
in my case, sooner than later. So we scattered. I don't know what the others
did, but me, I stayed drunk and stoned, and meatfucked as many of the
treacherous blue-carders as I could lay my hands on. And tracked down all the
pally pushers I could find. I don't even know what half the stuff I shot up
was, but something in the mix or maybe the mix itself, seemed to slow the
Plague. I didn't get any better but I seemed to stabilize.
But the situation in Dago didn't, brothers and sisters. It became one
close call after another. Finally I got caught by a couple of stupid SPs.
Well, those Unholy Rollers were no match for a zombie with my combat smarts.
While they were running one of my phony cards through the national data bank and
coming up null, I managed to kill the meatfuckers.
I picked my IDs off the corpses, but now the national data bank had me
marked as a zombie on the run, and when they found these stiffs, they'd fax my
photo to every SP station in the fifty states. The Sex Police took a reel dim
view of SP killers', and nailing me would be priority one.
I had only one chance, not that it was max probability. I had to
disappear into a Quarantine Zone. San Francisco was the biggest, hence the
safest. Also the tastiest, or so I was told.
So I snatched a car and headed north. How I would break into a Zone, I'd
have to figure out later. If, by some chance, I managed to avoid the SPs long
enough to get there.

WALTER T. BIGELOW

Congress set up the Federal Quarantine Agency to administer the National
Quarantine Amendment. It would have enormous power and enormous responsibility.
It was the wisdom of Congress, with which I heartily concurred, that it be