"ANDERSON, KEVIN J - THE X FILES ANTIBODIES" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anderson Kevin J)

the night shift.., but he got paid-- and surprisingly well--to take care
that no intruders got into the unstable ruins of the Dymar Labora tory
on the outskirts of Portland, Oregon.

He drove his half-rusted Buick sedan up the wet gravel driveway. The
bald tires crunched up the gentle rise where the cancer research
facility had stood until a week and a half ago.

Vernon shifted into park, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out to
investigate. He had to be sharp, alert. He had to scope out the scene.

He flicked on the beam of his official security flashlight--heavy enough
to be used as a weapon--and shone it like a firehose of light into the
blackened ruins that covered the site.

His employers hadn't given Vernon his own security vehicle, but they had
provided him with a uniform, a badge, Tlli and a loaded revolver. He had
to display confidence and an intimidating appearance if he was to chase
off rambunc tious kids daring each other to go into the charred husk of
the laboratory building. In the week and a half since the facility had
been bombed, he had already chased a few trespassers away, teenagers who
ran giggling into the night. Vernon had never managed to catch any of
them.

This was no laughing matter. The Dymar ruins were unstable, set to be
demolished in a few days. Already con struction equipment, bulldozers,
steam shovels, and little Bobcats were parked around large fuel storage
tanks. A padlocked locker that contained blasting caps and explo sives.

Someone sure was in a hurry to erase the remains of the medical research
facility.

In the meantime, this place was an accident waiting to happen. And
Vernon Ruckman didn't want it to happen on his watch.

The brilliant flashlight beam carved an expanding cone through the mist
and penetrated the labyrinth of tilted girders, charred wooden beams,
and fallen roof timbers.

Dymar Lab looked like an abandoned movie set for an old horror film, and
Vernon could imagine celluloid monsters shambling out of the mist from
where they had lurked in the ruins.

After the fire, a rented chain-link fence had been thrown up around the
perimeter--and now Vernon saw that the gate hung partially open. With a
soft exhale of breeze, the chain-link sang faintly, and the gate
creaked; then the air fell still again, like a held breath.

He thought he heard movement inside the building, debris shifting, stone
and wood stirring. Vernon swung the gate open wide enough for him to