"John E. Stith - All for Naught" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stith John E)

Chapter 2
Nick nodded to the doorman as he stepped onto the sidewalk
and drew in a deep breath of stale morning air. The sound of a
couple of distant sirens rose and fell almost in unison. Nick
glanced around at the rows of parked cars along the sides of the
dirty street, feeling sad that he hadn't been somehow magically
transported to a South Sea island while he slept.
Parked so closely to the car in front of it that there was
no space to squeeze through, sat a pickup truck with a gun rack
containing an AK-47 assault rifle and a bazooka. The car next to
it was a bubbled three-wheeler with its front tire flat. Nick
patted his pocket to make sure he still had his key, then walked
past two more cars and started across the street. He saw only
one slow-moving car nearby, and he returned his attention to
looking at his own car as he approached it, wanting to make sure
nothing had happened to it overnight.
That one slow-moving car, a fairly new Subarota Minx, held
one passenger, an old lady wearing a beige hat.
The car was halfway down the block, cruising smoothly on
autopilot as the driver knitted. Without warning, the car
abruptly lurched forward, accelerating fast. The old woman
missed a stitch.
The woman looked up in horror. She started to bang on the
dash. "Oh no! Stop that! Stop it!"
The car barreled toward Nick, who walked in complete
oblivion, wondering if that scratch near his front fender was
new. Finally, with less than two car lengths left to go, Nick
glanced toward the oncoming car, seeing its headlights flicker on
and off as the car hit bumps in the road. He scrambled madly out
of the way, barely managing to throw himself between two parked
cars as the Subarota flashed past. An instant later, the car
plowed into the string of parked cars. Sound died, leaving only
the ticking of contracting metal and the dripping of fluid.
Nick got to his feet and dusted himself off. He trudged
toward the wreck and muttered under his breath, "Man, I hate it
when this happens."
He reached the wreck and pulled open the passenger door.
The old woman sagged forward, constrained by her seat belt.
She seemed dazed, but fortunately the knitting needles had done
no damage. Her eyes opened wider and she surveyed the view
ahead, then looked up at Nick. "Oh no. My brand new car. It
just--took off. I don't know what happened. I'm terribly sorry.
It was an accident."
Nick glanced at the damaged cars. "No harm done." He
turned to the doorman and yelled, "Call the cops, will you?
We've got another runaway."
The doorman called back. "I just did. They're still on
delayed reporting."
Nick nodded his understanding. Just as he turned back to
the woman, the air bag controller belatedly activated, and the