"John E. Stith - Manhattan Transfer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stith John E)

Quietly, in what he hoped was a reassuring tone, he said to the
injured man, who probably couldn't hear him anyway, "Okay,
fellow, I'm here. We're going to get medical help for you.
You'll be fine."
Matt played his penlight over the nearby ground, but he saw
no sign of the man's missing hand. Behind him a couple of people
jumped to the cinder track bed. He called toward them, "A man
here needs medical attention if there's a doctor around."
He moved farther down the tracks. The next couple of meters
could have been the aftermath of combat. There would be no
helping the people here. What was left of a man had been cleaved
vertically just to the right of his head. The rest could only be
described as large and mostly recognizable pieces of human
bodies.
Matt had seen casualties this horrible before, but he had
always known why. Here he was totally confused. Was this the
result of some terrible accident? Earthquake? The work of
terrorists? Nothing made any sense. Somewhere behind him a
nervous laugh got out of control and turned to a repetitive wail
before it ended with the sound of a slap.
He walked past the remains and stopped. Instead of the rear
half of the severed car, or even empty rails extending under the
river, here was nothing. The rails themselves were severed,
butting up flat against a dark wall that completely blocked the
tunnel mouth. As Matt came closer, he could feel the heat
radiating from the dull-black surface barring the way. Water
pooled on the tunnel floor. Where the hell was the rear half of
the train?
As he played his light on the mottled surface, voices behind
him said, "What the hell is that?" and "Mother of God."
Matt glanced behind him and saw an array of tiny flames
piercing the black. A man in a business suit stumbled forward.
"Agatha. Agatha! Can you hear me?"
Matt walked back to the man, passing a couple of onlookers
with lighter flames flickering. "I'm sorry, but unless Agatha is
in the car you just came from, she probably can't hear you. Come
on. We've got to get out of here fast. We're probably still
under the river, and something's cut the tunnel. We could be
flooded at any time."
The suited man shook, his gaze directed toward the blocked
end of the tunnel. The man who had lost his hand lay still on
the ground, surrounded by three people who looked at him with
horrified expressions, but weren't helping. Matt moved closer.
"Help me carry him out," he said to the onlookers. He
forced his voice to be calm despite his urge to run. "It's risky
to move him because he might have a concussion or broken bones
from the fall, but he's got to get medical attention, and it's
going to be a while before any help gets down here."
"What happened?" asked one of the three, a woman with dazed
eyes.