"Viktor Koman - Captain Anger 1 - The Microbotic Menace" - читать интересную книгу автора (Koman Victor)

Captain Anger
Adventure #1
The Microbotic Menace
Victor Koman
To the late, great Lester Dent, with sincere gratitude and lifelong
admiration.




Chapter One

The Silver Angel of Death
Nobody in the diner paid any attention to the little man in the corner.
The leggy blonde waitress had given him the once over when he entered.
She judged the short, grey-haired man in the drab business suit to be
some mid-level manager at one of the computer companies nearby, or
maybe a traveling salesman come in to beat the heat. The customers gave
him no notice, absorbed in their own concerns. If the little man played an
important role in their lives, they showed absolutely no awareness of the
fact.
He sat at the far end of the counter, took several deep breaths, and
leaned against the wall to which the counter was firmly attached. In a
hoarse, rasping voice, he asked the waitress for coffee. He weakly stroked a
goatee surrounded by days-old stubble. The skin on his plump hands
displayed an odd sheen. In the bright fluorescent lights, it palpitated to
motions half-hidden beneath the flesh.
The waitress poured the coffee, eyed him again with her big blues, and
moved on to another diner at the far end of the counter.
That insignificant action saved her life.
The small man suddenly looked up, intense agony burning on his face.
He seized the arm of a passing customer.
тАЬTheyтАЩve crossed the barrier!тАЭ he cried out in a terrified voice. тАЬThey
know what we are!тАЭ
The other diners stopped eating and talking to stare at the commotion.
Now they noticed the little man. Too late.
тАЬHey, Mac, get your damnтАФтАЭ The burly construction worker tried to pry
the frantic manтАЩs hand from his own sleeveless arm, then jumped back in
horror.
The little manтАЩs fingers dissolved into a wet, silvery mess.
The bigger man tried to swab the slime off his arm, watching the other
man in shock. He backed into a booth by the window, grabbed a fistful of
napkins, and struggled to smear the tingling, viscous fluid off him.
The crumbling man stared at the stump where his wrist ended. He
watched the sleeve of his limp jacket bend downward in a sickeningly wet
way. Wrist, forearm, elbow softened and liquefied. He looked wildly
around him for someone who would comprehend.
тАЬThey know what we are!тАЭ he shouted again, bits of glistening spittle
erupting from his mouth. His wild eyes clouded over. The right arm
melted entirely, the sleeve wet and dripping silver liquid on the yellow and