"Foster, Alan Dean - Alien Nation" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

crosswise across the intersection. Sykes waited until his partner was under
cover once more before returning his attention to the store.
The larger alien was grabbing up the sack of cash and shoving it into his
coat pocket. Bills tumbled to the floor. The thief ignored them. Sykes
frowned at that but had no time to work it out. The hair on his neck
stiffened as it began. He felt like a man watching a slow-motion strip-
tease, unable to react, unable to interact. It was insane. It made no
sense.
Madness.
Without any warning of any kind, the robber whipped the shotgun up and
fired. At close range the twelve-gauge shell opened up the old proprietor's
chest like a demolition charge, slamming him backward into shelves crammed
with cans and packaged goods. He never had a chance. And there was no
reason for it, no reason at all.
As if to compound the craziness, as the oldster slid to the floor the thief
leaned over the counter and pumped another round into the crumpled body.
 18

" Aw, shit. " Sykes was rising from his crouch.
Tuggle had almost made it across the street when the first shot was
fired. He dropped instinctively, then raised his head for a clear look.
As he did so a horn blared and both men looked in surprise down the
street.
Sedan, late model. The horn howled a second time, a disembodied voice
fleeing the pavement. Sykes barely had time to see that the human driver
was starting his engine before all hell broke loose.
Reacting to the horn's shriek, the two aliens inside the market turned
in time to spot Tuggle crouched out on the asphalt. They opened fire
instantly, blasting through the plate glass. One shellburst struck
pavement. Another hit a civilian car rolling through the intersection,
perforating its radiator and bringing it to a halt nearby. The terrified
alien driver had the good sense to stay inside and out of sight.
Tuggle rose and made a dash for the cover of a nearby lamppost. As he did
so, the human driver of the getaway vehicle emerged to level a machine
pistol in the direction of the fleeing detective. Sykes immediately
turned his attention to this new threat, hoping the two aliens would
elect to stay under cover inside the minimart. As the driver fired at
him, Sykes was forced to duck down behind the car that was providing his
own cover. The rapid-fire machine pistol raked the metal and safety glass
above his head.
A moving van came trundling down the street, its driver unaware of the
battle raging intermittently before him. The getaway driver grinned and
came around in front of his car, a new clip punched into the belly of his
pistol. What he failed to see was that as he advanced under cover of the
slow-moving van, Sykes was already racing around its front. The driver
of the van barely had time enough to look shocked as Sykes burst in front
of him, leveled his revolver, and put the getaway driver on his back.
Now the aliens had no driver and it was Sykes who was using their vehicle
for protection. There was a potential hostage present in the person of
the proprietor's wife, but they chose to ignore her. Sykes stayed low,