Pokrewne

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Chelsea Handler Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang (epub
Brit Brinson [Dia of the Dead Dia of the Dead (epub)
Cody Goodfellow [Radiant Dawn Radiant Dawn (epub)
Cate Tiernan [Immortal Belove Immortal Beloved (epub)
C J Busby [Deep Amber 01] Deep Amber (retail) (epub)
Carl Ashmore [Time Hunters 01 The Time Hunters (epub)
Drew Hayes [Super Powereds 02 Super Powereds Year 2 (epub) i
Beth Harbison [Shoe Addict 02 Secrets of a Shoe Addict (epub)
Cara Lynn Shultz [Dark World The Dark World (retail) (epub)
[heft] Perry Rhodan 1831 Requiem fuer den Smiler

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.I folded the paper carefully and tucked it into the pocket of my jeans.It was then that I noticed the complete and utter silence.For me, New York has always meant noise.The ever-present music of traffic, yelling voices, the thump of bass from the clubs.Today, there was none of that.Just the eerie, flat silence that crowded at my ears, pressing against the hollow of my throat, close as a lover.I ran then, heedless of the stiff leather scraping at my heels, the screaming of my calf muscles.I blanked in and out as I ran.Lines of cabs still neatly parked in their lanes as though waiting for a change of lights, their drivers still behind the wheel, faces swollen with the putrid gases of death.Black.A woman sprawled on the sidewalk, her hands reaching out for a nearby newspaper stand, now empty.Her fingers were heavy with gold rings; her lacquered nails the color of blood.Black.A group of children huddled around the still form of a dog.Their limbs were locked over the matted fur, stiff and blue.I tried not to see the ragged holes in the dog’s sides where the children’s teeth had been.Black.Black.Black.I stopped at an abandoned newsstand and helped myself to a chocolate bar, digging change out of my pocket to leave on the counter.No newspapers were left.I walked down the street, looking upwards at the buildings to try to orient myself.I didn’t want to look down at the sidewalk or street anymore.When my feet nudged against something solid, I felt my way around without looking.I focused instead on the taste of the chocolate, the rich creamy sweetness.It was warm, half melting in the packet.It hit me then that it was summer; that the dead would putrefy rapidly in the heat.Suddenly the chocolate tasted rancid, and I tossed it away half eaten in a trashcan.My sense of direction clicked in then.I was only a few blocks away from Central Park.I walked them quickly, eager for the refuge of the park.I passed a hot dog vendor on the way.A hot dog, complete with mustard and ketchup, sat on top of the stand.Next to the food, a large black bird eyed me before dipping its beak to the sausage, tearing away a shred of pink, gristly meat.I shooed the bird and took a bottle of water from the cart.I didn’t leave any change this time.Strangely, the park was almost empty.I passed only a few corpses, splayed out as though sunbathing.Their eyes had dried to opalescent pools in the bright sunlight, lending them the aspect of surprise, as though death had snuck up behind them.Gotcha.I swigged from the already warm water as I walked, feeling a thin sweat break out on my forehead.The sky above was completely clear, a gorgeous summer day.A month ago, there would have been dozens of people sunbathing here.I came across another of the black birds after a few more minutes of walking.This one was perched on a small rise in the lawn, gazing steadily at me as I approached.It didn’t move when I moved close, not even when I attempted to shoo it.When I looked over the rise, I saw why.They were a family, united by rigor mortis into a single unit.The baby was wearing denim overalls, unsexed.The father was dressed in full army regalia, camouflage useless against death.Letters embroidered on his breast spelled his name: Brown.Their eyes were all gone, ragged crimson holes left in their place.It hit me like a soft blow to the midsection, standing there looking down at the Browns.This was it.The world was at an end, and I was left, somehow immune to the plagues.And except for the bird still staring at me, I was alone.I lay down on the grass next to Mrs.Brown, curled an arm around her waist.Her flesh was hard beneath my touch, feeling more like stone than muscle and skin.I closed my eyes.Prayed the lord my soul to take.When I woke again, the air was cooler, the sun a dim orange eye sinking beneath the buildings.The bird was still there, watching.But now it had been joined by three others, all arrayed in a neat line along the ridge, all gazing down on me.Were they ravens? Crows? I didn’t recall ever seeing anything but the ubiquitous pigeons in the park before.The pigeons were all gone, leaving only these black birds.The lines from Poe’s poem rolled through my head, and I knew.They were ravens.A series of shots echoed across the park, unnaturally loud in the stillness.I scrambled to my feet and was running towards the sound when another volley of shots sounded.I didn’t care if it was a madman.It was someone alive.I found him near the edge of the park, blood still pumping in arcs from the hideous wound that had consumed most of his face.Surrounding him were at least a dozen ravens, all dead.The closest was still bleeding, its thick blood blending with that of its murderer.As I watched, a group of ravens spiraled down from the sky to form a circle around the fallen birds.As one, they began to vocalize, the noises coming from their throats rising and falling like song.Were they mourning?“A group of them is called an unkindness,” a voice said from behind me.I whirled around, blood hammering in my ears.Sitting on a park bench was a man who appeared kin to the mourning birds.His hair was long, as black and glossy as their feathers.He had skin paler than anyone I had ever seen, tracings of blue veins mapping his life.His eyes were fixed on me as intently as the raven’s had been, a deep sapphire; the color of the sky at dusk [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]