"Dafydd ab Hugh, Brad Linaweawer DOOM: Infernal Sky (english)" - читать интересную книгу автора

that precise moment to start an argument. Damned
voice had a lousy sense of timing.
Getting tired, are you? Feeling a bit middle-aged
around the chest area? Old heart hanging in there? The
arms are strong from all those push-ups and pull-ups,
but how's the grip? Your hands are weaker than they
used to be, aren't they? You know, you haven't had
these injuries looked at . . .
"Nothing a blue sphere couldn't fix up," I mut-
tered.
Medikits aren't good enough for you, Corporal?
You'd rather trust in that alien crap, huh? And how do
you know that you and Arlene weren't altered in some
diabolical manner when your lives were saved in that
infernal blue light?
"I'm hanging from a freakin' rope and you choose
this moment to worry about that?" I shouted.
"Fly, are you all right?" Arlene called down.
"Okay," I called back, feeling like a complete idiot.
Normally I don't argue out loud with the voice in my
head.
"Don't go weird on me now," she said. "If I fall, I
want my strong he-man to catch li'l ol' me."
"No problemo," I promised. "But I think we're
getting enough exercise as things stand." Well, at least
I'd convinced her I was playing with a full deck again.
As if life had become too easy for us, the door in the
office flew off with such force that it smashed through
what was left of the window and went sailing in the
direction of the freeway. The door was as black and
twisted as if someone had turned it into burned toast
and tossed it in the trash.
The first monster to peer out the window, if black
dots count as eyes, was one of the things Arlene had
wisely dubbed a fire eater. It must have only recently
joined the other pukes and taken care of the door
problem for them. In a flash it could solve the rope
problem, too, burning our lifeline to cinders. We
didn't have a fire extinguisher this time.
Fire Guy wasn't alone, either. He was the gate-
crasher, bringing with him a whole monster conven-
tion. They'd be pouring down the ropes after us like
molasses on a string if we didn't do something fast.
I stopped the story there because I wanted to finish
my beer, and because I had my eye on another can of
Limbaugh. The master gun had brought a six-pack, so
with the aid of higher arithmetic, I figured I had
another one coming.
"And?" asked Mulligan, fire in his eye; and the way
his mouth was working you could say fire in the hole,