"David L. Robbins - Endworld 06 - Citadel Run" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

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Citadel Run by David
Robbins
Chapter One
"I sense danger," the Empath announced for the benefit of the three
other occupants of the green vehicle.

Immediately, the muscular driver of the van-like transport applied the
brakes, bringing the SEAL to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. His
brawny hands deftly twisted the steering wheel, angling the vehicle,
enabling him to see in both directions without turning in his seat. His
penetrating gray eyes scanned their immediate vicinity as he ran his left
hand through his thick dark hair. The driver wore green fatigue pants and
a black leather vest, and he was armed with a pair of Bowie knives, one
strapped to each hip. "Are you certain, Joshua?" he asked the Empath.

Joshua nodded, his long brown hair bobbing on his narrow shoulders,
his brown eyes partially closed as he concentrated his mental powers on
the emanations he was receiving. He wore a blue shirt and brown pants,
the front of the shirt covered by a large Latin cross he wore suspended
from around his neck. "I'm positive, Blade. I'm picking up definite
hostility, although I am unable to pinpoint the precise source."

"Maybe your battery needs recharging, pard." commented a blond man
in buckskins, a lean figure with broad shoulders and a matched set of
pearl-handled Colt Python revolvers in the holsters of his gunbelt. His
right hand stroked his sweeping blond moustache as he looked around. "I
don't see a critter stirrin' out there."

"Just this once, Hickok," groused the fourth occupant of the transport,
a stocky Indian with brown eyes and black hair, wearing frayed green
pants and a shin, both constructed from an old canvas tent, "I wish you'd
use normal English like the rest of us. If I hang around you long enough,
I'm likely to start talking like you do."

"So what's wrong with the way I talk?" Hickok demanded.

"Oh, nothing, really," responded his friend. "But I don't want my wife to
think I'm a dimwit."

"Are you implying, Geronimo, old buddy," Hickok said, glancing at his
closest companion in the entire world, "that I'm a dimwit?"