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