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

and wasted. (At least Ackerman kept good records.)
The only explanation for the sparse crowd was that a
number of our comrades had been put off their food
by a first sloppy encounter with the drool ghouls. So
we could have seconds if we wanted.
Albert sighed and joined us. The tables were set up
cafeteria-style, and our little group tended to gravitate
together. We were so taken with Ken that he'd proba-
bly belong to our little supper club if he ever ate solids
again.
"I didn't hear about the zombies until I returned,"
he said almost apologetically.
"How was town?" asked Jill.
"I was shopping." Those innocuous words came
out of Albert freighted with an extra meaning. I
wasn't the only one who heard it.
We ate our Salisbury steaks in silence. I finished
and started to get up with the intention of depositing
my tray in the proper receptacle. I figured my figure
didn't really need the extra calories of seconds, after
all. Albert was only starting to eat, but he abandoned
his food. And Albert is a growing boy.
"Do you mind if I walk with you?" he asked. The
style was definitely not him. I couldn't help noticing
Jill's eyes burning into him. She sensed something
was up. Fly was busy paying close attention to his
pineapple dessert.
"Sure," I said. For one moment I let wishful
thinking override the rational part of my brain. I
wanted to believe that Albert had changed his mind
about our sleeping together. I'd forgotten that where
this big, wonderful guy was concerned, the most
important aspect of sleeping together was the dream-
ing that went along with it—and the promises.
I don't know what surprised me more. That he'd
come up with a ring during his shopping expedition,
or that he put it to me with such direct simplicity:
"Arlene, will you marry me?"
I'd opened the door to this when I made a play for
him. If I had a half a brain, I'd have realized what my
interest would mean to a man of this caliber.
We stood together next to a perfect facsimile of a
World War II era poster proclaiming, "Loose lips sink
ships." He watched me closely, especially my mouth,
waiting for words promising his own personal salva-
tion or damnation. I'd have been happier if he'd
looked away. Suddenly I wasn't as brave as I thought I
was.
"Albert." I only got the one word out. His expres-
sion spoke volumes. He'd certainly wrestled with all