David L. Robbins - Endworld 17 - Atlanta Run.pdf

(355 KB) Pobierz
38502221 UNPDF
Scanned by Highroller.
Proofed by the best Elf Proofer.
Made prettier by use of EBook Design Group Stylesheet.
Atlanta Run
#17 in the Endworld series
David L. Robbins
Prologue
The woman paused on the crest of the low hill and glanced over her
right shoulder at the twinkling lights of the metropolis a mile distant. The
wind whipped her brown hair into her green eyes, and she swiped at the
lashing strands with her left hand. Held in her right arm, clutched close to
her breast, was her child.
There was no sign of pursuit; the highway behind them was deserted.
Good.
Their escape had gone unnoticed.
She smiled in triumph as she faced to the south and fled into the night.
The prospect of bumping into a mutant chilled her blood, but there wasn't
any other choice. If she stopped, if she sought shelter from the elements,
she risked being discovered by a Terminator patrol. The Terminators
frequently ranged more than a mile from Atlanta, so she wasn't in the
clear yet.
Another mile should do it.
"Mommy?"
 
"Not now, Chastity."
"I'm scared."
"There's nothing to be scared of."
"You're scared, Mommy."
The woman looked at the upturned, cherubic features of her
six-year-old, barely visible in the gloom, and wrapped her left arm around
Chastity's back for added support. "Why do you say that?"
"I can feel it," Chastity replied.
Annoyed by her failure to conceal her fright, the woman faked a broad
smile. "You're imaginging things, dearest. I'm fine. Just a little cold, is all."
"So am I," Chastity said, tightening the grip of her thin arms about her
mother's neck.
The woman breathed deeply as she jogged down the hill. She could feel
her daughter's legs encircling her narrow waist, could feel the tension in
those legs, and her conscience was pricked by guilt. Was freedom worth
endangering Chastity's life? Was it that precious?
How could she ask such a stupid question?
"Mommy?"
"Please, Chastity. Not now. We must keep quiet."
"But the Bubbleheads are coming."
Startled, the woman halted and spun. Her gaze fixed on the top of the
hill as a lightning flash far to the north silhouetted its sloping contours.
And there they were! Four Terminators, outlined against the sky! But
how? Where had they come from?
"Mommy?" Chastity asked fearfully.
Struggling to suppress a rising sense of panic, the woman bolted
southward. What should she do? Take cover in the woods? The
 
Terminators would find them easily! But fleeing was even more foolish;
she couldn't hope to outrun a Terminator Squad.
"The Bubbleheads are coming," Chastity reiterated.
"Quiet!" the mother ordered, angling to the right, leaving the highway
and darting into the underbrush. She crashed through a thicket, turning
her body sideways so her right side absorbed the brunt of their passage,
her right shoulder and naked forearms slashed by the sharp branches.
Another streak of lightning, much nearer this time, served to briefly
illuminate a small clearing and the wall of trees beyond. Seconds later,
thunder boomed.
The woman plunged into the forest, weaving among the trunks,
dreading a misstep. She was grateful for the steadily strenghtening wind;
the rustling leaves and the crackling limbs would cover the sounds of her
flight. But the Terminators would rely on more than hearing to track her
down; they would use their Heat Vision.
Their damn, infallible Heat Vision!
She winced as her left foot sank in a rut and she twisted her ankle, and
she nearly toppled forward. With a grunt, she righted herself and raced to
the west. Her left ankle was throbbing, but she ignored the discomfort,
endeavoring to maintain a clear head, to formulate a plan for eluding the
Terminators, undaunted by a sobering realization: No one ever eluded the
Terminators.
A raindrop spattered her face.
The mother paused, elation washing over her. There was a chance, after
all! Not much of one, true, but one nonetheless. If only the rain would
increase!
More rain descended, the drops heavy and cold, smacking the turf and
the vegetation in an irregular rhythm.
She continued deeper into the woods, frantically seeking a hiding place,
scrutinizing the inky vegetation, availing herself of the periodic lightning
flashes to note landmarks, to get her bearings. During one such flash a
huge tree materialized 20 yards ahead, its overhanging limbs forming a
 
spreading canopy. The tree was perched halfway up a partially eroded
knoll. Several enormous roots were exposed, two of which crisscrossed one
another after looping outward and upward, then disappeared in the dank
earth.
The rain became a steady drizzle, ever building.
The mother dashed toward the tree, squinting as the raindrops pelted
her face, her eyes. She reached the base of the knoll and hurriedly
inspected the root system, and grinned at the discovery of a two-foot space
between the crisscrossed roots and the slope.
"Mommy," Chastity said softly.
"Quiet," the mother chided. She squatted and slid behind the roots, her
back to the knoll, her blue jumpsuit clammy on her skin.
"What will the Bubbleheads do?" Chastity asked.
"Be quiet!" the woman repeated.
With a rush of wind and an abrupt deluge of rain, the summer storm
attained its peak of primal fury. The nearby trees bowed their crowns to
Nature's majesty, and the driving sheets of precipitation obscured the
landscape.
The mother was overjoyed, knowing the storm would hamper the
Terminators. If the tempest persisted long enough, the Terminator Squad
might call off the hunt.
"I have to tinkle," Chastity said in her mom's left ear.
"Not now."
"I have to go," Chastity insisted.
"Do you want the Bubbleheads to find us?" the mother demanded.
"No."
"Then keep quiet! And hold it in until we're sure the Bubbleheads are
gone."
 
"Yes, Mommy," Chastity said, and sighed.
The woman peered out, leaning to the left, water cascading over her
head and shoulders. She blinked her eyes to clear her vision, striving to
detect movement in the undergrowth.
Where the hell were the Terminators?
Had the squad given up already?
No.
She spotted a silvery shape to the left, perhaps 15 yards off, and the
shape was moving! The form was advancing slowly toward the knoll. She
ducked from sight and pressed her forehead against the roots, clasping
Chastity to her bosom. "Shhhh!" she whispered. "Don't make a sound."
For once, her daughter obeyed.
The rain was drumming on the ground and thumping on the uncovered
side of the root system. Combined with the swishing of the wind, the
shaking of the trees, and the intermittent crack of thunder, the storm was
creating a constant racket, the din effectively deadening the tread of the
Terminator's silver boots.
Where way the Terminator?
Her curiosity getting the better of her, the mother eased her head to the
left and risked a hasty peek. And froze, terrified.
The Terminator was five feet from the roots, his back to the knoll, the
silver dome of his head sweeping from right to left and back again. The
three slim, silver tanks between his shoulder blades were visible. His silver
left hand, the fingers splayed, was on his left hip. In his right hand, which
was draped at his side, was the Fryer nozzle.
She gaped at the Fryer, recalling the time she had seen a Disruptive
slain by a Terminator Squad. The stench of the poor man's burning flesh
had sickened her.
Chastity shifted uncomfortably.
The mother placed her lips next to her daughter's right ear. "Shhh," she
 

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika:

Zgłoś jeśli naruszono regulamin