Jason55c: переводы

→“You can say that again,” said Sir Gordon Balfour. The underground vault in which they sat was vast and echoing. As well as the tombs of long-dead knights and forgotten saints which Sir Gordon expected to find in the crypt of London’s most famous church, there were also rows of wooden cabinets labelled alphabetically. Sir Gordon read some of the labels: Abominations (various); Apparitions; Banshees; Bloodsuckers; Burrowers; Crawlers; Crypt spirits (clean); Crypt spirits (unclean); Darklings; Demons; Devil’s footprints (sightings). Sir Gordon’s scalp itched and sweat broke out across his face in spite of the chill of the tomb. “Couldn’t we have met in my club instead?”

→“The Supernatural Crimes, Rescues, Emergencies and Mysteries squad is not your typical police unit,” Charley explained to their visitor.

→They were safe there, hidden from prying eyes. That was important, because what Charlotte Steel and Billy Flint did was anything but safe. And if the public knew what they were doing, then London, and the whole of Britain, might never be the same again. There would be lots of screaming probably. Widespread panic. Wet pants. That sort of thing.

→London was shrouded in fog. The gas lamps flickered in the streets, giving just enough light to make the shadows even scarier. All the ordinary, everyday folks were safely tucked up in their beds. But Charlotte Steel and Billy Flint were wide awake, in their secret headquarters. Beneath Westminster Abbey. In a crypt.

→Chapter 1: I want my mummy!

→Sir Gordon and Mr Cowley clung to each other in terror while the mummy smashed the head off a statue with a final snarling roar, and then lurched towards the doorway. It was halfway out when it paused and turned its neck with a creaking sound, until it was gazing directly at Doogie.

→The sound was sudden and shocking, an angry animal noise which grew louder as the mummy started to rampage further through the room. With outstretched arms, it lashed furiously at the displays of Egyptian treasure…all the precious things that had been stolen from his tomb.

→The mummy stumbled around like a drunk, but it seemed to Doogie that it was gaining strength with each passing second. The thing blundered into one of Sir Gordon’s display cases, shattering the glass and sending the Egyptian amulets inside cascading down. The creature looked at one of the gold bracelets and paused, as if it was trying to remember something that had been very important many centuries ago.

→The mummy lurched forwards and its knee joints squeaked as they were forced to bend for the first time in five thousand years. All the monster’s movements were clumsy and awkward, like a newborn’s. Although this creature wasn’t a newborn; it was just the opposite: old and dead.

→The sarcophagus lid swung wide and the mummy almost fell into the room. The thing staggered on stiff, straight legs. It was wrapped in bandages from head to foot. But if the bandages had ever been white they were filthy now, like rags. And as the creature flexed its withered muscles, here and there more strips of cloth started to come loose, revealing horrible glimpses of the body inside.

→Only Sir Gordon, his butler and Doogie stayed put; Mr Cowley no doubt out of a sense of duty, His Lordship possibly out of stupidity. Doogie could feel the hairs standing on end across the back of his neck. He was desperate to run away but his legs felt as if they had turned to lead.

→No one was very polite now. There was no “Ladies first” or “After you, sir”. This was every man for himself; a desperate, messy rush for the doors. Chairs were flung aside and tables upturned as people fled for their lives, stumbling and falling over each other in the chaos.

→That was when the screaming started.

→There was a gasp from the crowd as a bandaged hand appeared around the edge of the lid. The exposed tips of bone tapped against the stone as if the creature was impatient to be free.

→Doogie retched – the smell was worse than cleaning out the toilets. All around the hall the guests began to gag as their nostrils were filled with a stink more disgusting than rotting vegetables, putrid fruit, overripe cheese and decaying fish. Like the worst fart imaginable; silent but deadly.

→“Just gas… I’m only moving backwards in case the body explodes…”

→The lid opened further with a terrible screech. Sir Gordon took a step backwards as a foul stench poured into the hall.

→Instantly Sir Gordon’s guests were wide-eyed and sober; fear ran cold in their veins. The sarcophagus was opening in front of them. Inch by inch it was being pushed open…from the inside. One woman with an enormous bottom – and an even more enormous bowl of trifle in her hand – wobbled, and before anyone could catch her, she fainted to the floor. The bowl shattered; trifle went everywhere.

→An expectant hush fell. No one moved. Doogie could feel his own breath trapped inside his chest in anticipation. Sir Gordon grinned like a schoolboy who’s been given the key to the sweet shop. The great hall was as silent as the grave…

→Doogie was still frozen to the spot, unable to move, or hide, or do anything other than stare. They were utterly alone: the boy, the butler, their master and the monster.