"Nephilim - 01 - Nephilim - The Truth is Here" - читать интересную книгу автора (Marzulli L A)

His heart hammers in his chest, feeling as if it will burst through the bone and
muscle as it pounds.
"Mr. MacKenzie?" someone asks.
His muscles tense. "I'm MacKenzie," he blurts out.
A nurse rises from her chair behind the nurses' station and scurries to him. She
grabs his hand and rushes him down a hallway.
And there is Maggie, his wife. She doesn't see him at first. Her hands and
tear-stained face are pressed against the observation window, as if she were
trying to melt through the glass.
Mac touches her shoulder; she jumps, and then they look at each other for an
agonizing second, neither saying a word. Mac takes her hand, and together they
watch a team of doctors and nurses working desperately on a young boy. Their
son, Art junior.
The sheets that cover him are soaked with his blood. His short brownish hair is
matted and wet with blood and perspiration. His hand hangs limply over the side
of the table. He is fragile, helpless, alone, and defenseless against what has
happened and is happening to him, and Mac wants only to rush in and hold him, to
wash away the blood from his fore-head, to see his hazel eyes and crooked smile.

He can imagine the scene, so comforting: he would simply walk into the operating
room and tell the doctors that everything is all right, it s just a slight
bruise, no need for all of this. Everyone can go home now.
A faint but alarming sound reaches Mac through the window, shattering his
daydream. It comes from a monitor at the head of Art's gurney. Mac has seen the
movies, the television shows—he doesn't need to be a doctor to know that his
son's heart has flat-lined. The doctor who appears to head the team grabs a
syringe held out to him by a nurse. He plunges the needle into Art's chest and
pumps its liquid in.
He stares at the monitor and looks for a change. The heart doesn't respond.
Mac is tortured by "if onlys. " If only Art had been sitting in a different seat
in the family's van, there might have been less damage. If only the firemen had
been able to free him from the twisted wreck more quickly. If only the rush-hour
traffic hadn't been so heavy, delaying the ambulance on its way to the hospital.
If only he hadn't lost so much blood.
So much blood .. .
"Come on . . . Come on!"The doctor shouts, pressing Art's chest with such power
Mac is surprised his son doesn't fall through the table.
Maggie squeezes Mac's hand; when he looks at her, he sees that she is biting her
lower lip with such force blood runs down her chin.
There's panic in the operating room now; the monitor's long, droning, monotone
note seems to be terrifying every-one. There's cursing and yelling. Instruments
are flung to the floor; people rush back and forth, undoubtedly carrying out
logical, preassigned tasks, but to Mac it merely seems the pointless, random
scurrying of panic, back and forth, from one end of the room to the other. Mac
can't see his son now because of the crowd of milling, frantic doctors and
nurses, ten people trying with all the skill they collectively possess to bring
Mac's son back.
And still the note drones on.
* * *
MacKenzie took another sip of Grand Marnier. He was almost numb ... ready to