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Circus of the Damned :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 106 из 210"
I guess Martin was theone with the gun. He still wasn't moving. I didn't know if I killed him or not. I wasn't sure I cared, as long as he didn't get up and shoot at us again.
My car was closer. I shoved car keys into Larry's hands. "Open the door, open the passenger side door, then start the car. Do you understand me?"
He nodded, freckles standing out in the pale circle of his face. I had to trust that he wouldn't panic and take off without me. He wouldn't do it out of malice, just fear.
Figures were converging from all directions. There had to be a dozen or more. The sound of running feet whispering on grass came over the wind.
Larry stepped over the body. I kicked a.45 away from the limp hand. The gun slid out of sight under the car. If I hadn't been pressed for time, I'd have checked his pulse. I always like to know if I've killed someone. Makes the police report go so much smoother.
Larry had the car door open and was leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. I aimed at one of the running figures and pulled the trigger. The figure stumbled, fell, and started screaming. The others hesitated. They weren't used to being shot at. Poor babies.
I slid into the car and yelled, "Drive, drive, drive!"
Larry peeled out in a spray of gravel. The car fishtailed, headlights swaying crazily. "Don't wrap us around a tree, Larry."
His eyes flicked to me. "Sorry." The car slowed from stomach-turning speed to grab-the-door-handle-and-hold-on speed. We were staying between the trees; that was something.
The headlights bounced off trees; tombstones flashed white. The car skidded around a curve, gravel spitting. A man stood framed in the middle of the road. Jeremy Ruebens of Humans First stood pale and shining in the lights. He stood in the middle of a flat stretch of road. If we could make the turn beyond him, we'd be out on the highway and safe.
The car was slowing down.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I can't just hit him," Larry said.
"The hell you can't."
"I can't!" His voice wasn't outraged, it was scared.
"He's just playing chicken with us, Larry. He'll move."
"Are you sure?" A little boy's voice asking if there really was a monster in the closet.
"I'm sure; now floor it and get us out of here."
He pressed down on the accelerator. The car jumped forward, rushing toward the small, straight figure of Jeremy Ruebens.
"He's not moving," Larry said.
"He'll move," I said.
"Are you sure?"
"Trust me.
I guess Martin was theone with the gun. He still wasn't moving. I didn't know if I killed him or not. I wasn't sure I cared, as long as he didn't get up and shoot at us again.
My car was closer. I shoved car keys into Larry's hands. "Open the door, open the passenger side door, then start the car. Do you understand me?"
He nodded, freckles standing out in the pale circle of his face. I had to trust that he wouldn't panic and take off without me. He wouldn't do it out of malice, just fear.
Figures were converging from all directions. There had to be a dozen or more. The sound of running feet whispering on grass came over the wind.
Larry stepped over the body. I kicked a.45 away from the limp hand. The gun slid out of sight under the car. If I hadn't been pressed for time, I'd have checked his pulse. I always like to know if I've killed someone. Makes the police report go so much smoother.
Larry had the car door open and was leaning over to unlock the passenger side door. I aimed at one of the running figures and pulled the trigger. The figure stumbled, fell, and started screaming. The others hesitated. They weren't used to being shot at. Poor babies.
I slid into the car and yelled, "Drive, drive, drive!"
Larry peeled out in a spray of gravel. The car fishtailed, headlights swaying crazily. "Don't wrap us around a tree, Larry."
His eyes flicked to me. "Sorry." The car slowed from stomach-turning speed to grab-the-door-handle-and-hold-on speed. We were staying between the trees; that was something.
The headlights bounced off trees; tombstones flashed white. The car skidded around a curve, gravel spitting. A man stood framed in the middle of the road. Jeremy Ruebens of Humans First stood pale and shining in the lights. He stood in the middle of a flat stretch of road. If we could make the turn beyond him, we'd be out on the highway and safe.
The car was slowing down.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"I can't just hit him," Larry said.
"The hell you can't."
"I can't!" His voice wasn't outraged, it was scared.
"He's just playing chicken with us, Larry. He'll move."
"Are you sure?" A little boy's voice asking if there really was a monster in the closet.
"I'm sure; now floor it and get us out of here."
He pressed down on the accelerator. The car jumped forward, rushing toward the small, straight figure of Jeremy Ruebens.
"He's not moving," Larry said.
"He'll move," I said.
"Are you sure?"
"Trust me.