Читать книгу The Fall - Чак Хоган, Гильермо дель Торо, Chuck Hogan - Страница 11

HELLO THERE, WORLD.

Or what’s left of it.

I used to think that there was nothing more useless than writing a blog.

I was unable to imagine any greater waste of time.

I mean, who cares what you have to say?

So I don’t really know what this is.

But I need to do it.

I guess I have two reasons.

One is to set down my thoughts. To get them out onto this computer screen where I can see them and maybe make some sense out of all that is happening. Because what I have experienced in the past few days has changed me—literally—and I need to try and figure out who I am now.

The second reason?

Simple. Get out the truth. The truth of what is happening.

Who am I? I’m an exterminator by trade. So if you happen to live in one of the five boroughs of NYC, and you see a rat in your bathtub and you call pest control …

Yep. I’m the guy who shows up two weeks later.

You used to be able to leave that dirty job to me. Ridding pests. Eradicating vermin.

But not anymore.

A new infestation is spreading throughout the city, and into the world. A new breed of intruder. A pox upon the human race.

These creatures are nesting in your basement.

In your attic.

Your walls.

Now, here’s the kicker.

With rats, mice, roaches—the best way to eliminate an infestation is to remove the food source.

Okay.

Only problem with that is that this new breed’s food source?

That’s right.

It’s us.

You and me.

See, in case you haven’t figured it out yet—we’re in a shitload of trouble here.