"Dafydd ab Hugh, Brad Linaweawer DOOM: Infernal Sky (english)" - читать интересную книгу автора

the miracle that I felt secure enough to risk taking a
drink. For the past month of nonstop hell, first in
space and then on Earth, I wouldn't have risked
dulling my senses for a second, or saturating my
bodily tissues with anything but stimulants. Earth
could still count on Corporal Flynn Taggart, Fox
Company, Fifteenth Light Drop Infantry Regiment,
United States Marine Corps, 888-23-9912. I was in
for the duration.
Glancing over at Arlene, I was pleased to see that
she was healing nicely. Even though we treated each
other as best buddies instead of potential lovers, I
wasn't blind. Even the flaming balls of demon mucus
hadn't burned out my capacity to see that PFC Arlene
Sanders had the perfect female body, at least by my
standards: slender but with well-cut muscles and with
everything in ideal proportion.
Sometimes Arlene did her mind-reading act. Now
she glanced in my direction and gave me the once-
over. I guess similar thoughts were going through her
mind. More than our bodies were healing. Our souls
had taken a beating. When we first arrived on the
island, and Arlene could finally accept that we had
found a pocket of safety, she had tried to sleep; but
she was so stressed out that only drugs could take her
under. Even then she'd wake up every half hour, just
as exhausted as before.
I wasn't doing too well when we first arrived, either.
But I was too worried about her to pay attention to
my own aches and pains. She said she'd never felt so
empty. She couldn't stop worrying about Albert. So I
told her all the things she'd said to me when I was
down. About how it was our turn to man the barri-
cades and we had to keep going, past every obstacle of
terror and fatigue and despair. Then I shook her hard
and told her to come out of it because we were on
vacation in Hawaii, dammit!
Master Gun Mulligan was an invaluable help
throughout this period of adjustment. He was an old
friend none of us had ever met before. You meet that
kind in the service when you're lucky. It makes up for
all the Lieutenant Weems types.
Of course, you should only tease a friend so far. The
master gun had every right to know how we'd pulled
off our "impossible" escape from the old Disney
Tower. He just had the bad luck to be caught between
Arlene Sanders and Fly Taggart in a game of who-
gives-in-first.
"All right," said Mulligan, half to himself, slipping
a little as he climbed out of his beach chair. He was a