"Tim LaHaye & Jerry Jenkins - Left Behind Series 1 - Left Behind" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

against her chest as if she would never let them go. She said something Buck
couldn't hear. He asked her to repeat it. “I can't jump out of any airplane,” she said.
“Stay right here,” he said. “They'll send someone for you.”
“But will I still have to jump and slide down that thing?”
“No, ma'am. I'm sure they'll have a lift of some sort.”
Buck carefully laid his laptop and case in among his clothes. With his bag zipped,
he hurried to the front of the line, eager to show others how easy it was. He tossed
his shoes down first, watching them bounce and skitter onto the runway. Then he
clutched his bag across his chest, took a quick step and threw his feet out in front of
him.
A bit enthusiastic, he landed not on his seat but on his shoulders, which threw his
feet over the top of his head. He picked up speed and hit the bottom with his weight
shifting forward. The buggy-whip centripetal force slammed his stockinged feet to
the ground and brought his torso up and over in a somersault that barely missed
planting his face on the concrete. At the last instant, still hanging on to his bag for
dear life, he tucked his head under and took the abrasion on the back of his head
rather than on his nose. He fought the urge to say, “No problem,” but he couldn't
keep from rubbing the back of his head, already matted with blood. It wasn't a
serious problem, only a nuisance. He quickly retrieved his shoes and began logging
toward the terminal, as much from embarrassment as need. He knew there would be
no more hurrying once he hit the terminal.
Rayford, Christopher, and Hattie were the last three off the 747. Before
disembarking, they had made sure all able bodied people got down the chutes and
that the elderly and infirm were transported by bus. The bus driver insisted that the
crew ride with him and the last passengers, but Rayford refused. “I can't see passing
my own passengers as they walk to the terminal,” he said. “How would that look?”
Christopher said, “Suit yourself, Cap. You mind if I take him up on his offer?”
Rayford glared at him. “You're serious?”
“I don't get paid enough for this.”
“Like this was the airline's fault. Chris, you don't mean it.”
“The heck I don't. By the time you get up there, you'll wish you'd ridden, too.”
“I should write you up for this.”
“Millions of people disappear into thin air and I should worry about getting written
up for riding instead of walking? Later, Steele.”
Rayford shook his head and turned to Hattie. “Maybe I'll see you up there. If you
can get out of the terminal, don't wait for me.”
“Are you kidding? If you're walking, I'm walking.”
“You don't need to do that.”
“After that dressing-down you just gave Smith? I'm walking.”
“He's first officer. We ought to be last off the ship and first to volunteer for
emergency duty.”
“Well, do me a favor and consider me part of your crew, too. Just because I can't fly
the thing doesn't mean I don't feel some ownership. And don't treat me like a little
woman.”
“I would never do that. Got your stuff?”
Hattie pulled her bag on wheels and Rayford carried his navigator's leather box. It
was a long walk, and several times they waved off offers of rides from units
speeding out to pick up the non-ambulatory. Along the way they passed other
passengers from their flight. Many thanked Rayford; he wasn't sure for what. For
not panicking, he guessed. But they looked as terrified and shell-shocked as he felt.