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

They shielded their ears from flights screaming in to land. Rayford tried to calculate
how long it would be before this runway was shut down, too. He couldn't imagine
the other open strip holding many more planes, either. Would some have to try to
put down on highways or open fields? And how far away from the big cities would
they have to look for open stretches of highway unencumbered by bridges? He
shuddered at the thought.
All around were ambulances and other emergency vehicles trying to get to ugly
wreckage scenes.
Finally in the terminal, Rayford found crowds standing in lines behind banks of
phones. Most had angry people waiting, yelling at callers who shrugged and
redialed. Airport snack bars and restaurants were already sold out of or low on food,
and all newspapers and magazines were gone. In shops where staffers had
disappeared, looters walked off with merchandise.
Rayford wanted more than anything to sit and talk with someone about what to
make of this. But everybody he saw—friend, acquaintance, or stranger—was busy
trying to make arrangements. O'Hare was like a massive prison with resources
dwindling and gridlock growing. No one slept. Everyone scurried about, trying to
find some link to the outside world, to contact their families, and to get out of the
airport.
At the flight center in the bowels of the place, Rayford found much the same thing.
Hattie said she would try making her calls from the lounge and would meet him
later to see if they could share a ride to the suburbs. He knew they were unlikely to
find any rides going anywhere, and he didn't relish walking twenty miles. But all
hotels in the area were already full.
Finally a supervisor asked for the attention of the fliers in the underground center.
“We have some secure lines, about five,” he said. “Whether you can get through, we
don't know, but it's your best chance. They do bypass the normal trunk lines out of
here, so you won't be competing with all the pay phones in the terminal. Streamline
your calls. Also, there are a limited number of helicopter rides available to suburban
hospitals and police departments, but naturally you're secondary to medical
emergencies. Get in line over here for phones and rides to the suburbs. As of right
now we have no word of the cancellation of any flights except for the remainder of
today. It's your responsibility to be back here for your next flight or to call in and
find out its status.”
Rayford got in line, beginning to feel the tension of having flown too long and
known too little. Worse was the knowledge that he had a better idea than most of
what had happened. If he was right, if it were true, he would not be getting an
answer when he dialed home. As he stood there, a TV monitor above him broadcast
images of the chaos. From around the globe came wailing mothers, stoic families,
reports of death and destruction. Dozens of stories included eyewitnesses who had
seen loved ones and friends disappear before their eyes.
Most shocking to Rayford was a woman in labor, about to go into the delivery
room, who was suddenly barren. Doctors delivered the placenta. Her husband had
caught the disappearance of the fetus on tape. As he videotaped her great belly and
sweaty face, he asked questions. How did she feel? “How do you think I feel, Earl?
Turn that thing off.” What was she hoping for? “That you'll get close enough for me
to slug you.” Did she realize that in a few moments they'd be parents? “In about a
minute, you're going to be divorced.”
Then came the scream and the dropping of the camera, terrified voices, running
nurses, and the doctor. CNN reran the footage in super slow motion, showing the