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

lifeline seemed like a good idea. At least it would give
me more than one chance in case I fell.
The sounds at the heavy reinforced door told me
two things. First, there was one hell of an enemy out
there. Second, the most powerful ones could not be in
front. A hell-prince would have huffed and puffed the
door down faster than a politician would grab his
pension. Even a demon pinkie could have chewed his
way through that door as if it was a candy bar. So the
wimps were up front, and this gave us a little more
time.
While Fly was collecting the stuff, we received more
evidence supporting my theory. I heard screams that
I'd have recognized anywhere—the noise imps make
when they're being ripped apart. They were up front
and not strong enough to break through. It occurred
to me that this military-quality door dated back to the
time of Walt Disney himself. I was glad that Disney
had been a paranoid right-wing type, according to the
biographies. A more trusting sort would never have
installed the door that was saving our collective ass.
But it wasn't going to hold much longer.
"Got it!" Fly announced, trotting back with the
wire, tape, and boot. "What's your plan?"
I told him. I showed him. He nitpicked.
"I should go first because of upper male body
strength and a longer reach . . ."
"I weigh less! Besides, it's my idea. You're going to
be too busy to go first anyway."
He opened his mouth to ask what I meant, but the
shredding of the door provided the answer. Talons
appeared like little metal helmets, leaving furrows
behind them as they sliced through the last barrier
between us and them.
Grabbing his Sig-Cow, Fly started blasting through
the door before the first one even appeared. I saw that
my buddy wouldn't be able to help with the makeshift
rope so I tied one end to a heavy safe and the other
around my waist and clambered out the window
pronto.
Luck was with me. Fly and I disagree about luck: he
thinks you make your own; I think you're lucky or
you're not. The ledge was so narrow that I couldn't
imagine Fly negotiating it. The stupid little lifeline
came apart before my hand was on one of those
beautiful, thick, inviting ropes.
I shouted my patented war cry, based on all the
westerns I'd seen when I was a kid, and jumped the
rest of the way. I knew I'd better be right about luck.
I swung far out and heard a long creaking sound