"Jerry Davis - Dna Prospector" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

of a large, dead insect. So much for being quiet, he thought. Then
he looked up, his eyes widening. There was a change to the forest.
Gregson's vision crystallized, the edges becoming sharp,
distinct. Tiny details of the trees, the forest floor, the light
and shadow, were all very clear. The feeling of dread swelled
inside him. Something was very wrong, very dangerous. His immediate
urge was to back away, to turn and run.
He took several long, deep breaths, forcing himself to
perceive. To analyze. This is like a drug effect, he thought. Or
like being in high quality VR. Or it's something supernatural, his
fear voice told him.


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Gregson fumbled with his biotascope, making sure it was set to
record.
He began moving slowly toward the creature. It was like trying
to walk upstream in a river. Every cell in his body was trying to
get him to turn around and go the other way. His heart was thudding
so hard in his chest that it hurt.
The dark tangle of branches around him were sinister, hiding
menace everywhere he looked. He could feel he was being watched. He
could feel the tension in the air, like a predator was stalking him
and was moments away from pouncing. Gregson became aware that his
mouth was dry, and that he was breathing hard. Sweat was streaming
down from his forehead and into his eyes.
Gregson had made it a dozen meters in toward the creature when
the sound came. Starting low and soft, it was an eerie undulating
cry, growing in volume and pitch. It was a horrible sound, a sound
that made his pounding heart skip a beat. Then he heard a crashing
in the forest behind him, and wide-eyed and gun ready Gregson
whirled around. He saw the two Bankrightk men, who had obviously
followed him into the forest, turning tail and running away.
Gregson's whole body shuddered, wanting to follow them, but he
clenched his eyes tightly shut and took deep breaths, trying to
calm himself.
The undulating cry was loud, now, and unnerving. It made it
impossible to think. Vern Hudson had called it a demon. It sounded
like a demon. But demons weren't real, they were fantasy. This
couldn't be a demon. This couldn't be anything supernatural. It was
just an animal. Just another animal ...
Gregson recalled all the deadly animals he'd seen in his
career, animals vicious and deadly. This creature didn't have to be
supernatural to be a demon. A demon could be an animal. A demon
animal that paralyzed its prey with fear and then went in for the
kill.
His biotascope made a sound. It was the proximity alert.
Gregson opened his eyes and glanced down at the screen, and saw