"Gustav Hasvord. The Short-Timers " - читать интересную книгу автора

Cowboy tries to trip the New Guy as he double-times up the trail, but
the New Guy catches his balance and runs faster, a werewolf charging into
the house of death. He stumbles up to Doc Jay. He spins around. His red eyes
probe the canopy. "Com'on, Doc. I'll help you. I'll carry-"
Bang.
For a breath or two we think maybe the sniper has missed for the first
time. Then the New Guy drops to his knees, praying, clutching his throat.
Cowboy says, "Let's move."
"Move, my ass," says Animal Mother. "You move, motherfucker."
Cowboy takes a step toward Animal Mother, puts his face up close to
Animal Mother's face, looks Animal Mother right in the eye. "Mother, take
the point."
Animal Mother stands up, pulls his machine gun off the log and sets the
butt into his hip so that the black barrel slants up at a forty-five degree
angle. "Marines never abandon their dead or wounded, Mr. Squad Leader, sir."
Cowboy glares at Animal Mother for several deep breaths, then pulls me
aside. "Joker, you're in charge. Move these people out," Cowboy sees that
Animal Mother is listening so he adds, "Order Mother to walk the point."
Animal Mother spits.
Cowboy says in a low voice: "Never turn your back on Mother. Never cut
him any slack. He fragged Mr. Shortround."
I say, "What about you, Cowboy? I mean, if you get yourself wasted who
will introduce me to your sister?"
Cowboy looks at me. His face is without expression. "I don't have a
sister. I thought you knew that." Cowboy looks at Doc and Alice and the New
Guy. "Mother's right. I've got to try. The sniper will see you pulling back
and-"
"Hey, never happen. Fuck it. You can't do anything."
"Move them out, Joker. By the numbers."
"But Cowboy, I-"
"It's my job," Cowboy says. "It's my job...." Cowboy says, as though
his guts are choking him. Then: "Okay?"
I hesitate.
"Okay, bro?"
"Sure, Cowboy. I'll get them all back to the hill in one piece. I
promise."
Cowboy relaxes. "Thanks, Joker." He grins. "You piece of shit."
Donlon yells: "LOOK!"
Doc Jay has the New Guy across his lap. The New Guy's face is purple.
Doc Jay is kissing the New Guy's purple lips in an attempt to breathe life
back into the limp body. The New Guy squirms, claws for air. Doc Jay holds
the New Guy down, zips out his K-bar, cuts the New Guy's throat. Air
whistles in through the crude incision, blows pink bubbles in the New Guy's
blood. The New Guy bucks, wheezes, coughs. Doc Jay spills his Unit One, paws
through splints, compress bandages, white tape. Then, frantic, he empties
his pockets. The Doc throws everything away until he finds a ball-point pen.
He stares at the ball-point pen, draws his hand back to throw the pen away,
stops, looks again, unscrews the pen, inserts the biggest piece into the
hole in the New Guy's throat. The New Guy sucks in air, breathes irregularly
through the small plastic tube. Doc Jay puts the New Guy down on the deck,