"c152" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burt Andrew - Noontide Night)

4:30 P.M, Sunday, January 30, 2000
Agate, Colorado

Nate went to bed early, setting his alarm for five a.m. Russ had volunteered to drive him the hour or so to the Springs. Nate resented that his brother distrusted him so much he had to see him to the Air Force base himself. He calmed himself by letting his mind drift to sleep with thoughts of Amber, and happier days. They drove through the cave-like darkness down I-25 with infrequent snatches of conversation, punctuated with yawns. Nate told Russ where all the food was, the fuel, the guns, the ammunition. He offered advice—demands—how Russ handle things. Russ nodded, overly agreeable. Nate doubted he'd do half what he asked. Russ gave Nate a brotherly embrace at the gate the signs indicated for programmer draftees. Nate slung his tote bag over his shoulder and hiked in on his crutches to the processing center, set up in an aircraft hanger. He queued up behind a bunch of other geeks T-Z, their breaths puffing in the crisp morning air. "Name?" a soldier asked when he advanced to the head of the line. Nate spelled his name. The soldier handed him a slip of paper. "Don't lose that, or you won't get where you're going, and Uncle Sam'll come after you and slap you in jail. Got it, recruit?" "Got it." "You're assigned to the Defense Supply Center in Philadelphia." Nate looked at the paper; sure enough, Philadelphia it said. "Wait over there in that line. Bus to Denver, train to St. Louis, plane to Philadelphia." Nate smacked his head. Back to Denver. He should have figured. What had Mel Brooks said? "Up and down. Up and down. Side side side side side."

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Chapter 15.2

4:30 P.M, Sunday, January 30, 2000
Agate, Colorado

Nate went to bed early, setting his alarm for five a.m. Russ had volunteered to drive him the hour or so to the Springs. Nate resented that his brother distrusted him so much he had to see him to the Air Force base himself. He calmed himself by letting his mind drift to sleep with thoughts of Amber, and happier days. They drove through the cave-like darkness down I-25 with infrequent snatches of conversation, punctuated with yawns. Nate told Russ where all the food was, the fuel, the guns, the ammunition. He offered advice—demands—how Russ handle things. Russ nodded, overly agreeable. Nate doubted he'd do half what he asked. Russ gave Nate a brotherly embrace at the gate the signs indicated for programmer draftees. Nate slung his tote bag over his shoulder and hiked in on his crutches to the processing center, set up in an aircraft hanger. He queued up behind a bunch of other geeks T-Z, their breaths puffing in the crisp morning air. "Name?" a soldier asked when he advanced to the head of the line. Nate spelled his name. The soldier handed him a slip of paper. "Don't lose that, or you won't get where you're going, and Uncle Sam'll come after you and slap you in jail. Got it, recruit?" "Got it." "You're assigned to the Defense Supply Center in Philadelphia." Nate looked at the paper; sure enough, Philadelphia it said. "Wait over there in that line. Bus to Denver, train to St. Louis, plane to Philadelphia." Nate smacked his head. Back to Denver. He should have figured. What had Mel Brooks said? "Up and down. Up and down. Side side side side side."


back | next home