Hunt for the Lost Treasure

Начало книги

Screeching tires caterwauled behind Leslie as she scampered violently to escape the chase. Above her the cement bridge felt like a tombstone of gray silence, sealing her doom by allowing the Cadillac access to her hiding place. Broken slabs of concrete jutted up towards the sky, having been shed by the structure the last time the rain had stayed long to eat away at the edges of the parapets. Veering to evade them, she failed thanks to the soggy mud that held the tall grass and weeds of the moor-like terrain.

Leslie screamed out loud as a protruding steel rod sank into her calf and dragged itself along the length of her leg until her knee joint expelled its tip with a sickening lapping sound. It happened so swiftly that Leslie hardly noticed her fresh wound spitting blood all over the leaves and stems surrounding her. Writhing in agony, she fell into the cold, wet grass, grasping her leg between her palms.

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