Читать книгу Homeland Terror - Don Pendleton - Страница 2

Bolan barely had time to reach out

In the same motion, he instinctively lashed out with his other hand, striking his attacker with a karate chop to the shoulder.

The blow was slight but still strong enough to throw the youth off balance. He lost his grip on Bolan’s shirt as he flailed his arms, trying to keep himself from reeling backward. His reactions were too slow, however. One second Bolan was staring into the youth’s horror-stricken eyes; the next he was gone.

Thirty yards below, the youth was splayed across the boulders, skull cracked open, his lifeblood spilling over the rocks. Bolan felt a grim weariness come over him. Young men who were supposed to be a part of America’s bright future had chosen to die trying to bring their country down.

“What a waste,” Bolan whispered into the night.