Mississippi Roll. Джордж Р. Р. Мартин

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      ‘Are we doing the right thing here, Angel?’ Ray asked as they watched the crowd of refugees swarm the deck.

      ‘I think you’ve given them their best chance,’ she said.

      They looked at Munnin. The patch was back over his left eye. ‘I see nothing,’ he said.

      ‘That’s probably for the best,’ Ray said. ‘Better hang on.’

      They all grabbed onto the derrick in the center of the deck as the captain ran the ship aground. It hit the riverbank in the midst of a dark industrial area that consisted of large buildings set in a warren of narrow streets and alleys. The ship shuddered with a groaning cry of old metal tearing. Although the three kept their feet, on the deck below them many of the refugees went down. Some skidded and rolled, but most all got to their feet immediately and it was every man, woman, and child for themselves. They swarmed down gangplanks and ladders. The confident swimmers went over the side and into the water below.

      The launches following them stopped dead, the police cars racing up the road skidded to a halt. The three SCARE agents watched the show unfold. It was like watching a surrealistic version of an old Keystone Kops movie with sound effects.

      The refugees, vastly outnumbering their pursuers, were fleeing in all directions. Some few, of course, were caught.

      Gunfire erupted from one police boat as someone started shooting at those who were swimming for it. Suddenly a vast, dark form erupted out of the river. It slammed into the launch, half lifting it out of the water. The launch rocked uncontrollably, and to Ray’s astonishment he realized that the attacker was a giant alligator. It was the largest gator that Ray had ever seen, fifteen feet long if it was an inch. The gator managed to hook a leg over the edge of the boat and clambered aboard like an avenging demon. It swept the boat clean of cops using its tail and then bellowed, its cry roaring eerily into the night. Using its snout as a battering ram, it sank the boat, then slipped under the water.

      ‘That’s not something you see every day,’ Ray remarked.

      A barge rowed by zombies cut through the water, picking up a handful of refugees. Ray could see the Handsmith and his son among them before it disappeared into the darkness.

      A golden creature, the winged Tulpar, appeared on the shore and charged the lead car in the police caravan that was chasing refugees who were fleeing into the warren of warehouses and industrial plants, smashing in its hood with her razor-sharp hooves. She leaped up onto the car’s roof, crumpling it, and managed to cripple half a dozen more before vanishing into the night.

      The show was interrupted when Evangelique Jones appeared in one of the launches, looking up at them on the Schröder’s deck and shouting.

      ‘What’s going on here?’ she cried. ‘Why aren’t you helping to round up these illegal aliens?’

      ‘Not my assignment,’ Ray called down.

      ‘I’ll have your badge for this!’ Jones screamed at him.

      ‘All right,’ Ray said. He took it out and scaled it down at her. As usual, his aim was impeccable. It hit her in her ample bosom and fell down at her feet. She stared at him, her jaw dropping.

      Ray looked at the Angel. She laughed aloud for the first time in way too long. Ray smiled at her. Her aim wasn’t as good. Hers plunked down into the river somewhere near the launch’s bow. Ray looked at Max.

      ‘You might want to hang on to yours.’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ the young agent said stoically.

      ‘It was nice СКАЧАТЬ