The Rats of Frankfurt: The Gospel of Madness (Book 1 of 6) (The Gospel of Madness - (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller Series)) by Georg Bruckmann

Author:Georg Bruckmann [Bruckmann, Georg]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-10T22:00:00+00:00

He raised his bandaged hand and pointed at me. He spit out a barbaric scream, not a word, a mere sound. Then he burst off in my direction and a second later his companions did the same.

The direct way back to Wanda and Mariam was cut off. So I turned around and ran along Hohlbeinstreet to the north. During the first three hundred meters I was able to keep the group at a distance despite my aching ankle. While trying to lose as little speed as possible, I searched my way through the wrecked cars, young plants breaking through the asphalt and craters from old grenade impacts covered with all kinds of grasses and ferns.

I reached a crossroad in the middle of which stood a huge, burnt-out tank, like the skeleton of a steel dinosaur. Towards the city center, the fighting had apparently become more destructive and deadly than in the militarily uninteresting residential area in which we had found shelter.

Around the tank lay corpses and parts of them, almost completely skeletonized and distributed almost in a circle, which I discovered only at second glance. Had the crew of the tank killed these people, or were they part of a platoon of infantrymen who, protected by the armed vehicle, had pursued long since become irrelevant targets? I guessed the first, because the remains of the clothes of the dead did not indicate any uniforming, even if that did not always have to mean something. The strangest plants thrive in the chaos of war.

I had no time to think any further, because while I was still standing in front of this involuntary war memorial breathing heavily, an arrow rushed right by my left ear and bounced off the perforated steel skin of the vehicle with a metallic clack.

Quickly I looked back and saw that the faster members of the group had approached me up to thirty meters. The archer, one of three, as I had spied out in the meantime, just put another arrow on the string and I lifted the crossbow and shot.

I had aimed roughly at the middle of his chest, but my bolt hit him in the abdomen and while the foremost of the three hunters were still running towards me, he collapsed with a cry of pain.

I had no time to get the crossbow ready again. I turned around, circled the destroyed tank and ran further towards the city center, throwing my crossbow over my shoulder and pulling my machete.

The fast steps of my pursuers in my ears and trying to avoid the constantly appearing obstacles, our unequal race shifted further and further to the north. I didn’t dare to look over my shoulder anymore, because on the one hand I had to keep an eye on the terrain in order not to fall, and on the other hand I didn’t know what I should have done at the moment anyway - except simply running away.

So while I was running, two more arrows passed me by. First one way too close, close to my right hip.

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