Rogue Justice Read Online Free Page B
Author: William Neal
open, but no words came out.
Then, a second monster exploded from the depths. Mohawk spun around, his eyes wild with fear, his face dead pale. It was over in seconds. His legs disappeared, severed at the hips. He barely had time to scream.
An instant later, a third creature burst from the water, Tank/Scarface squirming in its mouth. Red rain streamed from gaping wounds in his neck and abdomen, the flesh completely shredded. He let loose a hideous cry that seemed to come from some other world, a shriek beyond agony.
Jason finally stirred. "Jesus," he muttered. "His guts are falling out."
Tank/Scarface was dead before he hit the water.
As the monster crashed back to sea, a huge wave torpedoed the Lois Lane, nearly capsizing the big yacht. The boat rocked wildly to port, then to starboard, back and forth, like a cradle in the hands of an angry giant. Loud thunder rumbled across the sky, followed by another wicked flash of lightning. The rain was coming harder now, so hard Jia-li could barely see. Her eyes stung. She tasted blood. The hurting cold cut to the bone. Then, amid the confusion and chaos, she spotted Madman. He was swimming hard and going nowhere. For an instant their eyes locked and, strangely, an image of Saddam Hussein flashed across her mind. She had reported on his execution in 2006, watched the pirated video of the hangman's noose tightening around his neck. Different fiend, same expression: defiant, yet panicked.
An instant later, the image of Hussein was gone and so was the other madman.
His corpse, hideous and ravaged, had disappeared into the gloom.
The queasiness rose again in the pit of Jia-li's stomach as another wall of water swept over the rail. "Jason, watch out," she yelled. The boat heaved wildly. There was a loud bang that sounded like a shotgun blast. Something had torn loose on the deck—she couldn't make out what it was—but the flying missile struck Jason on the forehead, knocking him unconscious again.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Jia-li roared in frustration, fighting desperately to loosen the rope binding her wrists, the skin now raw and bleeding. It was no use. The knots only pulled tighter. She looked up, pleading for help. The skies burst forth with one final torrent before the downpour finally stopped. An instant later, everything went quiet, spooky quiet—and for several minutes there was almost no sound, save for the water lapping against the boat's hull and the occasional squawk of a seabird.
Jia-li blinked her teary eyes, fighting with every breath to remain conscious. The slightest movement hurt like hell. As the temperature began to drop, she curled up into a ball, shivering uncontrollably, the cold penetrating so deeply into her bones, it felt as if someone had wrapped her body in a blanket of ice. She could already feel her systems beginning to shut down, the early stages of hypothermia setting in. Growing up in the Northeast, she had endured some of the harshest winters imaginable and recognized the symptoms—weakness, drowsiness, shallow breathing, loss of concentration, the constant shivering.
Anxious moments passed.
Then... the boat began to rock, gently at first, but soon more violently.
She sensed it before she saw it—an immense black mass slowly rising out of the water on the port side of the boat.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Jia-li felt a sickening fear.
Fear beyond anything imaginable.
She was staring into the fathomless black eye of a one-hundred-ton monster.
Chapter 4
28 March, 3:30 PM AKDT
Juneau, Alaska
The fierce storm pounding the coast of Washington had moved north and it kept getting worse. Waves were coming in seismic bursts of fury, tall as buildings, with sustained winds of more than 80 miles per hour. At the National Weather Service offices on Mendenhall Loop Road, meteorologists huddled around computers tracking what they called a "bomb"—a rare confluence of weather fronts fueled by a massive low-pressure system. Initial
Then, a second monster exploded from the depths. Mohawk spun around, his eyes wild with fear, his face dead pale. It was over in seconds. His legs disappeared, severed at the hips. He barely had time to scream.
An instant later, a third creature burst from the water, Tank/Scarface squirming in its mouth. Red rain streamed from gaping wounds in his neck and abdomen, the flesh completely shredded. He let loose a hideous cry that seemed to come from some other world, a shriek beyond agony.
Jason finally stirred. "Jesus," he muttered. "His guts are falling out."
Tank/Scarface was dead before he hit the water.
As the monster crashed back to sea, a huge wave torpedoed the Lois Lane, nearly capsizing the big yacht. The boat rocked wildly to port, then to starboard, back and forth, like a cradle in the hands of an angry giant. Loud thunder rumbled across the sky, followed by another wicked flash of lightning. The rain was coming harder now, so hard Jia-li could barely see. Her eyes stung. She tasted blood. The hurting cold cut to the bone. Then, amid the confusion and chaos, she spotted Madman. He was swimming hard and going nowhere. For an instant their eyes locked and, strangely, an image of Saddam Hussein flashed across her mind. She had reported on his execution in 2006, watched the pirated video of the hangman's noose tightening around his neck. Different fiend, same expression: defiant, yet panicked.
An instant later, the image of Hussein was gone and so was the other madman.
His corpse, hideous and ravaged, had disappeared into the gloom.
The queasiness rose again in the pit of Jia-li's stomach as another wall of water swept over the rail. "Jason, watch out," she yelled. The boat heaved wildly. There was a loud bang that sounded like a shotgun blast. Something had torn loose on the deck—she couldn't make out what it was—but the flying missile struck Jason on the forehead, knocking him unconscious again.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Jia-li roared in frustration, fighting desperately to loosen the rope binding her wrists, the skin now raw and bleeding. It was no use. The knots only pulled tighter. She looked up, pleading for help. The skies burst forth with one final torrent before the downpour finally stopped. An instant later, everything went quiet, spooky quiet—and for several minutes there was almost no sound, save for the water lapping against the boat's hull and the occasional squawk of a seabird.
Jia-li blinked her teary eyes, fighting with every breath to remain conscious. The slightest movement hurt like hell. As the temperature began to drop, she curled up into a ball, shivering uncontrollably, the cold penetrating so deeply into her bones, it felt as if someone had wrapped her body in a blanket of ice. She could already feel her systems beginning to shut down, the early stages of hypothermia setting in. Growing up in the Northeast, she had endured some of the harshest winters imaginable and recognized the symptoms—weakness, drowsiness, shallow breathing, loss of concentration, the constant shivering.
Anxious moments passed.
Then... the boat began to rock, gently at first, but soon more violently.
She sensed it before she saw it—an immense black mass slowly rising out of the water on the port side of the boat.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Jia-li felt a sickening fear.
Fear beyond anything imaginable.
She was staring into the fathomless black eye of a one-hundred-ton monster.
Chapter 4
28 March, 3:30 PM AKDT
Juneau, Alaska
The fierce storm pounding the coast of Washington had moved north and it kept getting worse. Waves were coming in seismic bursts of fury, tall as buildings, with sustained winds of more than 80 miles per hour. At the National Weather Service offices on Mendenhall Loop Road, meteorologists huddled around computers tracking what they called a "bomb"—a rare confluence of weather fronts fueled by a massive low-pressure system. Initial
Readers choose
B.J. Daniels
Janeal Falor
R. L. Stine
Paul Bannister
Mari Carr
Doranna Durgin
Herman Wouk
M. Dauphin H. Q. Frost