The Doomsday Vault

Начало книги

The zombie lurched out of the yellow fog and reached for the door on Alice’s hansom cab. Alice Michaels shied away.

“Driver!” she shouted.

“I see it, miss.” The driver leaned down from his seat above and behind Alice and cracked the zombie smartly across the forearms with his carriage whip. The zombie groaned. Its face was a mass of open sores, and its skin had worn through in places, exposing red muscle beneath. Old rags barely covered its body. Fear and adrenaline thrilled through Alice’s veins as the zombie’s festering arm reached through the open sides of the cab. She pushed herself away from it, but there wasn’t much room in the little two-wheeled cab, and The Dress hindered her movements. The driver lashed down with the whip again. The zombie abruptly let the cab go, and the driver smacked the reins across the horse’s rump. Alice clutched a handle inside the cab as it bounced across the cobblestones, the wheels pounding as hard as her heart. Despite herself, she turned on the leather-covered seat and looked out the rear window. The zombie was already fading into the night and mist.

Читать дальше →