"Jerry Davis - Halloween Ants (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davis Jerry)

deep, and yanked out a large black pistol. Brad paused,
hesitating. The man pointed the gun at him and fired. Brad turned
around and ran, and the man kept firing.
Brad heard the bullets – they made whistling sounds as they
passed him. When they hit the trees they made a sound that was a
cross between a whack and a sharp crunch and bark would fly off.
He ran blindly, leaping over fallen limbs and punching his way
through underbrush. He broke out into another fairway and kept
running, continuing on far after the gunshots had stopped.
At the end of the fairway was the south boundary of the golf
course. Brad stopped his running, and chanced a look back. People
were scattered all over the place, standing still with clubs in
their hands, and they were all staring at him. Just standing and
staring. Then the man with the gun broke through the underbrush
and out onto the grass. He began firing the gun again, but not at
Brad – he was firing at people at random. They scattered, running
in every direction, and the man with the gun picked the people he
was closest to and chased them. More gunshots sounded.
Brad took the main road and walked quickly away from the
golf course. A few blocks down was Dickson's only shopping center,
with a post office, a grocery store, a salon and a gas station.
There had been a bookstore but it had closed down, as no one
seemed to read anymore. Brad made his way to the phone booth at
the gas station and called 911. He was still panting from his run.
Gunshots were still booming through the air from the golf course.
A tone sounded in his ear. The telephone said, "All circuits



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are busy. Please try your call again later." Exasperated, Brad
dialed again and got the same response.
The gas station attendant stepped out and looked down the
street toward the golf course. She was a short, slight woman with
a squinty look in her eyes. "What's goin' on down there?" she
said.
"Some maniac shooting the golf course up," Brad said. His
third try on the phone failed and he gave up.
"Who is it?" the attendant asked.
"Don't know his name, but he's from around here." Brad
looked at her, and she looked good. His mouth began to water, but
he caught himself and turned away. "I can't get a hold of the
police."
She didn't answer – she went trotting off toward the golf
course. He watched her go, eyeing her thighs in her tight jeans.
His mouth wouldn't stop watering. He abandoned the phone booth,
taking several steps after her, but he heard another gunshot and
stopped. Turning around, he saw two cats racing across the parking