"Michael A. Stackpole - Dark Conspiracy 01 - A Gathering Evil" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stackpole Michael A)

Awakening in a speeding ambulance, with the scream
of its undulating siren ripping your brain apart, is not a
pleasant experience. It becomes even less so when you
realize you're in a body bag zipped up tight and you can't
move. Trapped in suffocating darkness, with the rubber-
ized canvas pulling at your flesh, you realize that if this is
death, eternity in a grave will be hell itself.
The strap across my chest and another just above my
knees bound me tightly to the gurney. They kept me with
it as it crashed around in the back, jouncing up and down
or smashing side to side with the fast turns. The driver,
mercilessly pushing the whining engine to its top end,
sadistically pounded his way through potholes as if on a
divine mission to crush them all.
The irritating stink of rubber and the lingering scent of
decayed meat filled my nose. I tried to breathe through
my mouth, but I could not make my lips part. I fought
against the paralysis locking my jaw and quickly discov-
ered the condition extended to my whole body. I could
still feel the straps dig into my flesh and the slick
roughness of the bag against my fingertips, but I could
not make my muscles work. Try as I might, I could not
even open my eyes.
It took no genius on my part to know I was in severe
trouble. Being in a body bag meant the ambulance folks
thought I was dead—and that conjured up all sorts of
horrible images of premature burial or a seriously dis-
tasteful cremation. I started to panic, then fought against
it because a clear head was all I had to get myself out of
this situation.
And getting out of it was even more important that
wasting brainsweat on figuring how I'd gotten into it.
The siren snapped off and the ambulance began to
slow. I heard the crunch and ping of gravel beneath the
tires, then felt the jolt as the gurney clanked against the
inside of the ambulance as we rolled to a stop. The sound
of passenger doors opening and closing cut off the static
from the radio, then I heard the doors in the back open.
I rolled forward, then landed hard on the ground.
"Take it easy, Jack."
"The stiff won't care."
"Yeah, but Harry will charge us for damage to the
gurney." I tagged this speaker as Gruff-voice.
Jack hacked out a cough. "So, we take it out of petty
cash. This guy was loaded. His cards will be worth
something."
"No need to spend what we don't have to." Gruff-voice
took a couple of steps away from the ambulance, his
footfalls moving from my feet toward my head. "Where
are they?"