"E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 23 - World of Promise" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tubb E. C)

She didn't move, probably knocked unconscious from a blow
delivered in unthinking panic, knocked down and half-stunned,
dazed at least. Then the hand twitched, light catching the doll,
flashing from the sequins, the tinsel, a sudden blaze of radiance
which caught and held the attention of the beast, sent it padding
toward the intriguing point of brightness, the nostrils flaring as
it scented prey.

Things Dumarest noted as he moved, driving booted feet
against the ground, the rush of wind filling his ears, catching at
his hair. Wind which caught his robe and sent it to balloon
behind him, a drag he fought to conquer.

Speed, to reach the small figure first, to distract the beast, to
get her to safety. His eyes checked as he ran, assessing time and
distance, seeing the tormented face of the girl's mother, Roy
standing helplessly at her side, the small group of uniformed
men behind them, faces pale blobs against the darkness of the
running crowd.

Then he was stooping, scooping up the slight shape, lifting the
girl to throw her high and far toward the reaching arms. He fell,
shoulder and side numbed, to roll desperately from the foot
which kicked at his face to miss and rip deeply into the dirt.

Lying, the taste of blood warm in his mouth, Dumarest looked
at the death towering above him.

The beast was man-like but was not wholly a man. A true
human would have killed without hesitation but the creature
chose to roar, to snarl its hate and challengeтАФseconds which
gave Dumarest his only chance.

He rolled again, climbing to his feet, backing to gain distance,
the time to prepare. The blow which had knocked him down had
ripped the robe into rags and he doffed the remnants to stand
unhampered in neutral gray. A move and the knife lifted from
his boot to fill his hand with edged and pointed steel. This was
his only weapon, as the metal-mesh buried in the plastic of his
clothing was his only defense. They and his body and brain were
all he had. Together they had to be enough.

The beast snarled and darted forward, claws slashing the air
as Dumarest jerked aside, feeling the grate of broken ribs,
tasting again the saltiness of his own blood. A warning; to be too
active was to rip a lung to shreds. Yet how to avoid the danger?

There was no safe wayтАФthe beast was too fast, too big and
vicious. Backing, Dumarest studied it, searching for vulnerable
points as he had before but now with more than casual interest.