"David Robbins - Blade 12 - Death Master Strike" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robbins David L)

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Death Master Strike by
David L. Robbins
CHAPTER ONE
The scorching sun baked the Arizona countryside, causing rippling
waves of heat to distort the view in all directions. For the three people
trudging eastward across the blistering desert, the arduous trek was a
harrowing ordeal.

In the lead strode a giant of a man, seven feet tall and endowed with the
prodigious build of a Hercules. His bulging muscles gave his body a
sculptured look, as if a supremely talented sculptor had created him out of
Irving bronze. His hair was dark, his eyes a striking shade of gray. A black
leather vest snugly covered his broad chest, and sweat-soaked green
fatigue pants clung to his stout legs. Strapped around his narrow waist
were two big Bowie knives, and clutched in his left hand was an M-16.
Secured to his back was a brown backpack, and a green canteen hung over
his left shoulder.

Next in line came an attractive woman. Fine, luxurious brown hair
hung to the small of her back. Her brown eyes scanned the inhospitable
terrain eagerly, in anticipation of spotting their goal soon. She wore
fatigues and combat boots. Like the giant, she had both a backpack and
an M-16.

The third member of the trio also wore fatigues and held an M-16. His
hair, in contrast to that of his companions, was blond, his eyes an alert
blue. Two inches over six feet tall, he possessed a superbly proportioned
body that would have been the envy of an ancient Greek wrestler. Both he
and the woman sported .45-caliber automatic pistols in holsters on their
right hips.
 "We can't be that far," the woman announced.

"You hope, Athena," said the blond man.

"I had no idea you were such a pessimist, Captain Havoc."

The officer wiped the back of his left hand across his brow. "I'm a
realist."

"And you doubt we'll find Mesaville?"

"I doubt the place even exists."