"Steven Gould - Jumper 02 - Reflex" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

He saw something hit the sidewalk near Cox's running feet and felt stone chips cut his face. The
sound of a gunshot followed, lagging behind, and Davy's orientation changed suddenly, his head
swinging wide as Cox abruptly turned a corner and increased his pace, his pounding feet hitting the
wet puddles hard enough with his feet to splash water up into Davy's face.

Davy was still giggling softly with odd gasps each time one of Cox's feet hit the pavement. His
head was swinging from side to side and he caught glimpses of the street in upside-down fragments,
left, right, left. Oh, it's Nineteenth. This was the way he'd come earlier.

Cox stumbled and Davy heard the gunshot immediately after. Cox managed three more steps
then went down, spilling Davy into a puddle. Davy rolled sideways through the water and fetched up
against a storefront security grating facing back toward Cox and the street.

Cox tried to get up and fell again, crying out through clenched teeth. Between the water and the
darkness, Davy couldn't tell where Cox was hit, but he clearly couldn't put weight on his right leg.

There were running footsteps, several pairs, getting louder.

"Can you hear me?" Cox said.

Davy managed a slight nod.

"I don't get out of this, tell Cindy she's the best thing that ever happened to me. Her and the
boys." He rolled over and raised his head to look back, then reached into his jacket. Several bullets
slammed into him and he fell back, his hand flopping out. His cell phone skidded across the pavement.

The waitress from the restaurant walked into view, a boxy automatic pistol held extended. Her
perfect hair was mussed, now, rain-wet and coming out of the bun, and her mascara was running in
dark broad streaks down her cheeks like she was bleeding from the eyes, but her tie was still tightly
knotted and her steps were precise.
 Cox groaned, a bubbling rasping sound, and the woman took one quick step forward and put
another bullet into Cox's head.

Davy felt something wet splash across his face, but it wasn't rain. It was warm.

Three more men came into view, the ambulance crew. One of them dropped to Davy's side.
"Christ, is he hit?"

The waitress with the gun said, "That's not his blood."

Blinding light filled Davy's eyes as a vehicle pulled up, turning the men into dark silhouettes. They
took him by the arms and hauled him up and pulled him, toes dragging through the puddles, to the
back of the ambulance. In the distance, the sound of multiple sirens began to grow louder.

"Let's get a move on!"

As they paused at the back of the ambulance while one of them opened the door, Davy's
slumped head saw the slightest movement, across the street at the mouth of an alley. A tiny figure, a
child, crouched behind a trash can, staring. Oh, yeah. That's their alley.