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

felt an irresistible urge to see Hattie Durham right then. He unstrapped himself and
squeezed his first officer's shoulder on the way out of the cockpit. “We're still on
auto, Christopher,” he said as the younger man roused and straightened his
headphones. “I'm gonna make the sunup stroll.”
Christopher squinted and licked his lips. “Doesn't look like sunup to me, Cap.”
“Probably another hour or two. I'll see if anybody's stirring anyway.”
“Roger. If they are, tell 'em Chris says, ‘Hey.’”
Rayford snorted and nodded. As he opened the cockpit door, Hattie Durham nearly
bowled him over.
“No need to knock,” he said. “I'm coming.”
The senior flight attendant pulled him into the galleyway, but there was no passion
in her touch. Her fingers felt like talons on his forearm, and her body shuddered in
the darkness.
“Hattie—”
She pressed him back against the cooking compartments, her face close to his. Had
she not been clearly terrified, he might have enjoyed this and returned her embrace.
Her knees buckled as she tried to speak, and her voice came in a whiny squeal.
“People are missing,” she managed in a whisper, burying her head in his chest.
He took her shoulders and tried to push her back, but she fought to stay close.
“What do you in—?”
She was sobbing now, her body out of control. “A whole bunch of people, just
gone!”
“Hattie, this is a big plane. They've wandered to the lavs or—”
She pulled his head down so she could speak directly into his ear. Despite her
weeping, she was plainly fighting to make herself understood. “I've been
everywhere. I'm telling you, dozens of people are missing.”
“Hattie, it's still dark. We'll find—”
“I'm not crazy! See for yourself! All over the plane, people have disappeared.”
“It's a joke. They're hiding, trying to—”
“Ray! Their shoes, their socks, their clothes, everything was. These people are
gone!”
Hattie slipped from his grasp and knelt whimpering in the corner. Rayford wanted
to comfort her, to enlist her help, or to get Chris to go with him through the plane.
More than anything he wanted to believe the woman was crazy. She knew better
than to put him on. It was obvious she really believed people had disappeared.
He had been daydreaming in the cockpit. Was he asleep now? He bit his lip hard
and winced at the pain. So he was wide awake. He stepped into first class, where an
elderly woman sat stunned in the predawn haze, her husband's sweater and trousers
in her hands. “What in the world?” she said. “Harold?”
Rayford scanned the rest of first class. Most passengers were still asleep, including
a young man by the window, his laptop computer on the tray table. But indeed
several seats were empty. As Rayford's eyes grew accustomed to the low light, he
strode quickly to the stairway. He started down, but the woman called to him.
“Sir, my husband.”
Rayford put a finger to his lips and whispered, “I know. We'll find him. I'll be right
back.”
What nonsense! he thought as he descended, aware of Hattie right behind him.
“We'll find him”?
Hattie grabbed his shoulder and he slowed. “Should I turn on the cabin lights?”
“No,” he whispered. “The less people know right now, the better.”