"Guy N. Smith - Throwback" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Guy N)

Time wasn't on her side, any second she might click back into being a mindless
moron again. Don't push too hard, thinking hurts but you've got to get the
hell out of here. This place was hell. The car, it was parked on the big
riverside park. She thought she knew the way, back down through the Riverside
Shopping Centre and over the suspension bridge. But even if she managed to
find it, would she be able to drive it? You might black out suddenly. The
streets would be jammed with abandoned vehicles and crowds aimlessly blocking
the way; mobs that would surely go on the rampage.

Despair. She wouldn't make it, neither could she stay here. In that case . . .
and somewhere in the recesses of her confused mind she remembered the empty
house in First Terrace. It was a long way from here, further than the car park
down by the river, but it was out of town and maybe she would make it.

A year or two ago she used to go there quite a lot, in the days before
Pauline's mother had died. A calling place, mainly to fill the afternoon in
before it was time to go to Tiffany's. As far as she knew the place was still
empty, some structural problems that had prevented the family from putting it
on the market. Subsidence caused by the drought of 1976 had cracked the
foundations and, accord-. ing to Pauline, the insurance company were being
bloody awkward about it, looking for loopholes and trying to get the family to
have a cosmetic job done and put it up for sale at a third of the market
value. They were still arguing, which meant the place was still unoccupied.
And for the moment that was the place to go.

In those few seconds before her mind fogged again Jackie had the foresight to
fill her empty plastic carriers with food from the counter, scooping up
anything within reach, regardless of how it broke or crumbled. The rest of
that nut crumble, handfuls of fresh salad, some baked potatoes that were going
cold. A morass, a bag in either hand, and then the mist came down again.

She wandered aimlessly around the restaurant, shied away from the steaming
unattended stoves because fire terrified her; a creature seeking a way out
from an unfamiliar place.

She found her way back into the main church. That man was still there but now
she did not recognise him, did not remember having seen him before.

'They did this.' He regarded her with a glassy stare, still dribbling. The
Russians.'

Fear; because she did not understand his words and his whispered tone
frightened her. He was a threat to her safety. She ran blindly, not knowing
where she was going, a panic-stricken flight that took her back outside into
the hot dazzling sunlight, blinded her so that she did not see the flight of
stone steps.

She screamed as she fell, felt the impact, but strangely it did not hurt;
rolling, bumping, her inflamed body cushioning the blows, still clutching