To Ocean's End

Начало книги

What remained of Newport, Rhode Island’s streets did its best to break both my ankles as I ran. Chunks of pavement unglued themselves from the mud with a squelch, making it feel like each foot was treading on separate decks in high seas. The mud itself sucked on my boots, trying  just as hard to pitch me face-first into what passed for roads for a hundred years now. Why did unwanted company have to arrive every time I wanted a cheeseburger?

One of the largest steam frigates I’d ever seen had made berth next to mine sometime in the last hour. Not good—not because of its harpoons, but because of its mere presence. There were only about a hundred frigates left cruising the entire Atlantic, each with their own territorial port. Newport was sort of my territory—only sort of—and that’s the way I wanted it to stay. And right now half of my crew was either grabbing supplies or filling their stomachs.

Читать дальше →