Seattle Run

Начало книги

High ground!

He needed high ground!

Captain Nathan Dale paused, perspiration beading his furrowed brow despite the chill January breeze, and scanned his surroundings for a suitable spot. His tattered uniform, now little more than strips of fabric clinging to his battered, pale skin, did nothing to ward off the cold. He surveyed the decayed, dilapidated structures nearest him, seeking somewhere high above the ruins of the city once known as Seattle to increase his chance of success.

Hurry! his mind shrieked.

Manta will be after you!

Dale’s naked feet padded on the cracked sidewalk as he hurried to the northwest, away from the Humarium, away from Pier 59. How far had he gone? he wondered.

Not far enough.

From the rear, perhaps 50 yards distant, wafted a loud, shrill whistle.

They were coming after him!

Frowning in frustration, Dale rounded a corner and glanced to the north. A cluster of buildings met his gaze, and even in the dark he recognized the configuration of the architectural marvel dominating the gloomy, oppressive landscape: the Space Needle!

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