The Forsaken - The Apocalypse Trilogy: Book Two Read Online Free Page A

climbed to his feet; sweat
running in rivulets over his swollen muscles. He looked at his
reflection in the mirror atop the dresser—took silent approval from
his expressionless face and emotionless eyes. He grabbed a towel
from the bed, slipped it around his taut waist. The sinews in his
chest and shoulders flexed powerfully under a skin crosshatched
with silver scars.
    The walk into the City had done him good.
Felon had arrived just after sundown. Over a century of coming and
going had given him complete knowledge of all the City’s dark ways
and entry points. And he exploited its weaknesses to the fullest
avoiding the main gates by traveling through the Maze, a damp and
echoing labyrinth of ancient sewers and waterways that ran at odd
directions under the walls. They belonged to the mainland cities
and towns on whose bones the City now grew and grew. A ready
knowledge of them put him onto Zero, the City’s most anonymous
level without dampening a shoe. Soon after he had hailed a cab that
took him along the Third Skyway upward to Level Three before
depositing him on the sidewalk in front of the towering Coastview
Hotel.
    The building’s design had its roots in a
happier, sunnier world and looked ridiculously optimistic where its
upper reaches poked through the Carapace and loomed against the
permanent gray cloud cover. The hotel was two blocks west of the
ocean, climbing some forty stories. He booked a room on its
thirtieth floor—just high enough that his balcony hung over the
black shape of the Carapace where it sloped toward the ocean from
the City’s Level Six. The protective materials undulated below as
it careened downward in a terrifying ellipse to the distant
beaches. Its eaves and ductwork channeled runoff to massive
hydroelectric plants dotting the shore. He could see the lights of
cars on the Skyway interchanges flickering through its
semi-transparent surfaces.
    He had left instructions at the desk that he
not be disturbed then rode the elevator skyward. After a hot shower
and a shave—he dropped to the carpet to augment the day’s exertions
with a near endless series of pushups. He was as sharp and lethal
as a bayonet. The assassin snatched his cigarettes and lighter then
walked out onto the balcony. A mist of rain sent a chill over his
flesh.
    Lights as red as hellfire glared in the
neighboring buildings, and below him sirens howled like the damned.
Felon’s lips twisted with spite as he lit a cigarette. How he hated
these regular experiments in sameness—these boring constructs of
humanity. Law made the streets straight but did not make them safe.
Instead, they created dark corners full of the unknown. He hated
it. The set of his full lips said as much where they tangled
beneath high cheekbones round and hard as beef-joints. His eyes
were black with flecks of silver—reflections of the blurred
cityscape around him. Jet-black hair fell to his shoulders from a
high brow and curled at the corded nape of his neck.
    The city skyline stretched endlessly to north
and south but was lost to his vision in light pollution and the
upper Level Seven still under construction. The actual size of the
monstrous metropolis was hidden behind massive sheets of concrete
and steel. Through a tangled maze of supports and other load
bearing structures he could see to the south, jagged spires covered
with constellations of dim, winking lights. To the east, buried in
the hoary grayness of the rough sea he knew an old and sunken city
foundered, its walls shooting hundreds of feet above the waves. At
night it was invisible like the past—the monoliths obscured by dark
and cloud. But Felon knew they marched like ancient mysteries into
the distance. It was a dead place of the long ago. He had not been
there in years.
    Some grim humor flickered behind his
features, and drew his lips back in an apocalyptic snarl. At least he had a purpose. Unlike the teeming maggots in the
skyscraper holes around him, he had a reason for being.