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

blackness and the pain in my shoulder, which even in
my state I could tell was blown all to hell, to worry
about grabbing for my gun.
Dim and distant, I heard Arlene's rifle barking
again and again as she sprayed the area where the shot
had come from. Then she went down hard, but held
on to her piece. I guess the shot that hit me must have
snuck right past my armor to take out my left shoul-
der. I rolled over onto my right side to get away from
the pain, but it followed me, and blood dribbled
across my helmet faceplate. This was bad, really bad.
I'd never been shot this bad beforeЧisn't that per-
verse? First time, on a planet a hundred light-years or
more from Earth, in the desert sand, with only my
loving friend Lance Corporal Arlene Sanders to watch
me die on foreign shores. Now I was babbling.
Maybe A.S. wouldn't be seeing anything anyway.
She was down pretty bad, tooЧnot enough to stop
shooting, but I figured she was aiming by instinct
now. Our prisoner was screaming in utter terror,
louder even than Arlene's rifle. Jesus, what a weenie.
Show some freaking backbone, take it like a man!
Arlene took it like a man. She couldn't see for crap
because she'd taken another shot, this one off the
faceplate of her helmet, cracking it like a spiderweb.
Must have missed her brain because she held her .45
rifle up and tried to shoot over me.
She couldn't see.... I kept telling myself she
couldn't see, even when one of her shots hit me in the
freaking hip. I didn't even feel it by thenЧI was
screaming myself now, screaming about all the evil
crap I was going to do to the sons of bitches who were
plinking us from God knows where, to them and their
freaking mothers and fathers and sons and daughters
and neighborsЧand burn all their houses down and
sow their fields with salt. Arlene was screaming, "Fly
Fly Fly," letting fly until she burned right through the
mag.
The precious red stuff poured out of my uniform
now, finding the cracks in the armor. Arlene took one
in the belly, and even with the flak jacket, she doubled
over gasping and sucking for air. Just before I went
black to cross the River Styx with pennies on my eyes,
I felt hands grab me by the bad arm and yank me
over, and I think I screamed with pain again, but I
couldn't match the utterly terror-stricken shrieks of
the prisoner. God what a wiener.
So long, Arlene; so long, Fly Taggart; Semper fi,
Mac; it sure was nice to wear the eagle and anchor for
so many years. Damn, was I glad to die a sergeant