jumped sharply up right before its face, seized its ter rible eye, and pulled with all his might, simultaneously clenching his fist. The sphere of cold slime burst in his hand, like a huge rotten grape.
Logan immediately jumped back, at the same moment fas tidiously shaking the lumps of the squashed eye from his palm. The cop's fingers fumbled at Tony's shirt and scratched his shoulder, but could not hold him. Tony ran down the street towards the nearest crossroads, zigzagging from side to side since he wasn't sure that he wouldn't be targeted by sound. But, apparently the blinded cop tried to get back into the car–probably to call for reinforcements–bumped into the half-open door (Logan heard it slam), and then, unable to find the handle, began to punch the glass.
Tony turned at the crossroads and realized that he had already been here, but this time he ran in a new direction.
However, he quickly regretted his choice.
Ahead, blocking the left sidewalk and half of the narrow street, a garbage truck stood. Stood with extinguished lights, without any signs of life. Very recently, of course, such a sight would not have frightened Logan at all and would hardly have drawn his attention. Well, he would have been surprised that the driver had left the truck turned slantwise across the street, abut ting its nose against the building at the left and causing an obstruction for both traffic and pedestrians. Though, here and now, there were neither pedestrians nor traffic...
Now Logan trusted no municipal motor vehicles anymore.
However the danger behind him was more real, and there was no way to turn anyway, so Tony continued to run forward. During the next few seconds, he understood that the garbage truck had been abandoned long ago. Its body, once white, was eaten with rust, its cab gaped with the blackness of broken windows, and tires hung on rims like the rotten flesh on bones of a corpse. More surprising was that nobody had moved this wreck out of the way... however, this did not surprise Logan now. And then he saw that, before turning into garbage itself, the truck had spilled its contents out onto the road. Black plastic bags lay behind it on the street and on the right sidewalk. One bag still hung down behind from the truck. The appeal not to litter on a door–one of the few places on the truck body where the paint had escaped the effects of corrosion–looked in this surrounding especially incongruous.
And having run yet some yards more, Tony understood that these were not the usual garbage bags.
They were twice as long as normal and each was bound by rough ropes from outside. And the outlines of the things inside resembled human bodies.
Logan stopped so sharply that he almost fell. And at the same moment he heard the sound of a police siren behind.
In despair he rushed forward again. The only possible path was through the black bags. Logan hoped that he could jump over them, but in one place they lay too densely, and he had to step his unshod right foot on one of them. Under his foot something soft squelched and the bag made an unpleasant sound, similar to an exhalation of a choking asthmatic. Two more jumps–and Tony darted to the left, trying to hide from a probable pursuit from behind the garbage truck.
And understood that he tried in vain.
Ahead, the street came to a dead end at the brick wall of some huge uninhabited structure–either warehouse or factory. On both sides of the street there were only closed doors of offices and shops. There was no place to run anymore.
But that was not what filled Tony with the greatest horror. He was struck dumb looking not at the wall blocking his way, but above and behind it.
The fog was vanishing, its muslin thinned and torn like a decaying shroud. And, appearing from gloom, over a wall, over jagged silhouettes of roofs behind it, over all Downtown there rose two giant pillars of Twin Towers, their windows glowing in dim, unsteady crimson light.
The sound of the
Logan immediately jumped back, at the same moment fas tidiously shaking the lumps of the squashed eye from his palm. The cop's fingers fumbled at Tony's shirt and scratched his shoulder, but could not hold him. Tony ran down the street towards the nearest crossroads, zigzagging from side to side since he wasn't sure that he wouldn't be targeted by sound. But, apparently the blinded cop tried to get back into the car–probably to call for reinforcements–bumped into the half-open door (Logan heard it slam), and then, unable to find the handle, began to punch the glass.
Tony turned at the crossroads and realized that he had already been here, but this time he ran in a new direction.
However, he quickly regretted his choice.
Ahead, blocking the left sidewalk and half of the narrow street, a garbage truck stood. Stood with extinguished lights, without any signs of life. Very recently, of course, such a sight would not have frightened Logan at all and would hardly have drawn his attention. Well, he would have been surprised that the driver had left the truck turned slantwise across the street, abut ting its nose against the building at the left and causing an obstruction for both traffic and pedestrians. Though, here and now, there were neither pedestrians nor traffic...
Now Logan trusted no municipal motor vehicles anymore.
However the danger behind him was more real, and there was no way to turn anyway, so Tony continued to run forward. During the next few seconds, he understood that the garbage truck had been abandoned long ago. Its body, once white, was eaten with rust, its cab gaped with the blackness of broken windows, and tires hung on rims like the rotten flesh on bones of a corpse. More surprising was that nobody had moved this wreck out of the way... however, this did not surprise Logan now. And then he saw that, before turning into garbage itself, the truck had spilled its contents out onto the road. Black plastic bags lay behind it on the street and on the right sidewalk. One bag still hung down behind from the truck. The appeal not to litter on a door–one of the few places on the truck body where the paint had escaped the effects of corrosion–looked in this surrounding especially incongruous.
And having run yet some yards more, Tony understood that these were not the usual garbage bags.
They were twice as long as normal and each was bound by rough ropes from outside. And the outlines of the things inside resembled human bodies.
Logan stopped so sharply that he almost fell. And at the same moment he heard the sound of a police siren behind.
In despair he rushed forward again. The only possible path was through the black bags. Logan hoped that he could jump over them, but in one place they lay too densely, and he had to step his unshod right foot on one of them. Under his foot something soft squelched and the bag made an unpleasant sound, similar to an exhalation of a choking asthmatic. Two more jumps–and Tony darted to the left, trying to hide from a probable pursuit from behind the garbage truck.
And understood that he tried in vain.
Ahead, the street came to a dead end at the brick wall of some huge uninhabited structure–either warehouse or factory. On both sides of the street there were only closed doors of offices and shops. There was no place to run anymore.
But that was not what filled Tony with the greatest horror. He was struck dumb looking not at the wall blocking his way, but above and behind it.
The fog was vanishing, its muslin thinned and torn like a decaying shroud. And, appearing from gloom, over a wall, over jagged silhouettes of roofs behind it, over all Downtown there rose two giant pillars of Twin Towers, their windows glowing in dim, unsteady crimson light.
The sound of the
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