"Tim Lahaye & Bob Philips - Babylon Rising 02 - The Secret On Ararat" - читать интересную книгу автора (LaHaye Tim)

German shepherd pup-pies. Murphy shook his head: He always tried to prepare him-self for anything
where Methuselah was concerned, but what were a couple of puppies doing in the middle of an
under-ground cave complex miles from anywhere? Could they have gotten lost and somehow wandered
this far from the surface? He didn't think so. Much more likely they were there because Methuselah had
put them there.

They were part of the game.

Fighting his natural instinct to gather the bedraggled pups tightly in his arms and tell them everything was
going to be okay, he approached the ledge cautiously. They looked so help-less. But that didn't mean
harmless. Nothing in Methuselah's games was harmless, and if he had put them there for Murphy to find,
then something about the dogs was out of whack. He just had to figure out what.

Just then the steady dripping sound that had been nagging away at the back of Murphy's consciousness
since he landed in the pit started to get louder. He turned in the direction of the noise and suddenly it
became a roaring, as a huge wave of water surged through a narrow gap in the rocks. In a second a
frothing tide was tugging at his ankles, pulling him off balance. Forgetting Methuselah's mind games, he
pushed himself back toward the ledge, scooped up the puppies, and stuffed them under his jacket. His
eyes darted round the walls of the pit, looking for anything that would help him find a way out, as the
rising water swirled around his chest. The puppies were just a diversion, he thought bitterly, fighting to
keep his footing. He hadn't spotted the real danger until it was too late. "Don't worry, fellas, I'll get you
out of here," he assured them with more confidence than he felt. Then the torrent lifted him off his feet and
the panicking dogs squirmed out of his jacket.

Fighting to keep his head above the surface, he grabbed for them, but his fingers closed on icy water and
then he too was engulfed, spinning out of control like a bunch of wet clothes in a Laundromat washer.

He closed his eyes, and even as his lungs started hungrily demanding air, he tried to find a calm place in
his mind where he could think. He checked through his options. The water would soon reach the level of
the trapdoor, which was no doubt se-cured against

escape. So, search for another way out under the water, or look for the puppies again before they
drowned? If he tried to find a way out on his own, the puppies would be dead by the time he found it. If
he tried to save the puppies first, he'd probably wind up too exhausted to find a way out. If there was a
way out.

So much for his options.
The only shred of hope he could cling to was the fact that this was a game. And a game, however
deadly, still had rules.

But there was no way he could figure them out while his lungs were screaming and his thought processes
were beginning to go fuzzy due to lack of oxygen.

Get some air. Then go after those puppies. If he was still alive after that, maybe God would give him
some inspiration.

When Murphy walked into the lab, he was greeted by the sight of a young woman bent over a
workbench, her jet-black hair, tied back in a ponytail, making a stark contrast with her crisp white lab
coat as she scrutinized a sheet of parchment. She didn't look up as the door clicked shut behind him, and
he stood for a moment, smiling at the expression of fierce concentration on her face.