"ab Hugh, Dafydd & Linaweaver, Brad - Doom 03 - Infernal Sky 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (ab Hugh Dafydd)

should be able to make contact and talk her down."
"Great. Got a hot plan to talk us down?" I asked
my buddy.
Arlene shook her head. I had a crazy wish that
before Albert was blinded, and before Arlene and I
found ourselves in this cul-de-sac, I'd played Dutch
uncle to the two lovebirds, complete with blessings
and unwanted advice.
Somehow this did not seem the ideal moment to
suggest that Arlene seriously study the Mormon faith,
or some related religion, if she really loved good old
Albert. The sermon went into my favorite mental file,
the one marked Later.
She shook her head. "There's no way," she began,
"unless . . ."
"Yes?" I asked, trying not to let the sound of
slavering monsters outside the door add panic to the
atmosphere.
Arlene stared at the door, at the console, then out
the window. She went over to the window as if she
had all the time in the world and looked straight
down. Then up. For some reason, she looked up.
She faced me again, wearing a big, crafty Arlene
Sanders smile. "You are not going to believe this, Fly
Taggart, but I think—I think I have it. I know how to
get us down and get us to Hawaii."
I smiled, convinced she'd finally cracked. "Great
idea, Arlene. We could use a vacation from all this
pressure."
"You don't believe me."
"You're right. I don't believe you."
Arlene smiled slyly. She was using the early-bird-
that-got-the-worm-smile. "Flynn Taggart, bring me
some duct tape from the toolbox, an armload of
computer-switch wiring, and the biggest goddam boot
you can find!"
The boot was the hard part.
The screaming, grunting, scraping, mewling, hiss-
ing, roaring, gurgling, ripping, and crackling sound
effects from beyond the door inspired me to speed up
the scavenger hunt. Hurrying back to the window
with the items, I saw Arlene leaning out and craning
her neck to look up.
"Do you see it?" she asked as I joined her. Clear as
day, there was a window washer's scaffold hanging
above us like a gateway to paradise. When the inva-
sion put a stop to mundane activities, all sorts of jobs
had been left uncompleted. In this case, it meant
quantities of Manila hemp rope dangling like the
tentacles of an octopus. A few lengths of chain, with