"Steven Gould - Wildside" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gould Stephen Jay)

doorframe. Things went faster, then, and we soon uncovered the entire thing.

It was a double door set firmly into the back wall, with a heavy wooden frame mortared into the
fieldstone. The door wasn't as old as the barn and was mounted with large chromed hinges and
reinforcing straps. The door was closed with a three-foot-long, four-by-four drop bar set into steel
brackets. In addition, there was a padlock hasp, very large, mounted to the door with round-head
bolts. A large security padlock, the kind with a barrel cylinder, secured the hasp.

"Jesus," said Joey. "You'd think it was Fort Knox."

I smiled. "Interesting choice of words." I lifted the bar and set it to the side. "Get the guns.
There's another door on the other side of this, but I don't know if anything's gotten past it."

"Anything? What sort of 'anything'?" asked Clara. She wiped her hands on her jeans before
picking up the shotgun.

"Animals. It could be anything. Wolves. Wild dogs. American lion." I gritted my teeth.
"Mammoths."

"What are you talking about?" Joey said.

"Passenger pigeons." I unlocked the padlock but left it in place. "Joey and Clara, stand about ten
feet back from the door. Marie, get that big flashlight from the workbench and stand behind them.
Rick, get the other side of the door."

Joey moved to his spot, but kept shifting back and forth. "This is ridiculous. What are we doing
this for?"

I snarled at him. "You want to know, don't you? I didn't want to show you this yet, but you
insisted! Or should we just go back and finish lunch?" I was sweating more than shifting the hay
should account for, and my stomach didn't like the thought of food at all.

Joey shrugged. "Okay, already. But when this turns out to be some gag…"

He and Clara stood next to each other, guns at the ready, pointed high. Marie flicked the
flashlight on and shined it on the door. I took the padlock off the hasp and said, "Safeties off?"

Clara said, "Yes."

Joey said, "Oops. Now it is."

I looked across at Rick.

Rick said, "Fast or slow?"

"Slow."

The hinges screeched and I made a mental note to oil them. We kept pushing until the doors
stopped against the inner wall. I peered into darkness. That it was dark was a good sign. It meant the
far door, at least, was closed. Marie's light showed a packed dirt floor and rocky walls and ceiling.