"Donald Malcom - The Iron Rain" - читать интересную книгу автора (Malcom Donald)

I think I must have realized then that these meteorite falls were the
forerunners of an entire shower. At least, I understood the advisability of
mass evacuation from heavily populated areas. There were too many ways
to die in a city if a meteorite hit—falling masonry, vehicles out of control,
fire… the list was endless.

I picked up the telephone and dialed the number for the College of
Astronomy, listened briefly to the thin screech coming through the wires,
and replaced the receiver. Both the college and the observatory were at
least twenty miles away; there was little I could do to help. Escape was the
sensible solution, if escape were still possible.

I opened the door to the outer office. Miss Field, who'd been helping me
with paperwork, lay slumped beside her desk. She groaned as I raised her
head gently, revealing a livid bump on her forehead. I lifted her into a
chair and went to get her some water.

People were running and pushing past me in the corridor, some
talking, others silent. But every face wore the expression of fear I was to
see often in the future.

When I returned to the girl, my foot nudged the radio, lying beside her
chair. I switched it on, before feeding her sips of water. There was nothing
coming through except static, but I left it on.

"How do you feel, now?" I asked.

She pushed a strand of hair away from her eyes, one of which was now
puffy and discolored. "My head hurts. Was the noise made by a
meteorite?"

"Yes."

"I thought so. I tried to dive under the desk and didn't judge my
distance very well."

There was still nothing on the radio.

"We've got to leave here at once," I said. "The building took a shaking;
another shock like that could bring it down."

"I'd like to telephone my parents first."

"The phone doesn't work and we don't have time—"

"It won't take a minute." She dialed the number as she spoke. I fiddled
with the radio to cover my impatience and succeeded in tuning in on a
station.