The Lazarus Vendetta - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,100

only knew that her dead husband, Hakkim, had been no great prize himself, but even so she

would rather die than be fondled and then robbed by the human parasites she saw lurking all around her. And so Nouria walked quickly whenever and wherever she went outside her tiny apartment, and she always kept her gaze fixed firmly on the ground before her. Both she and her daughter also wore the hijab - the loose-fitting clothing, including head scarf, that marked them as Muslim females of decency and propriety.

"Mama, look!" Tasa exclaimed suddenly, pointing up into the blue sky above them. The little girl's voice was excited and shrill and piercing. "A big bird! Look at that big bird flying up there! It's enormous. Is it a condor? Or perhaps a roc? Like one from the stories? Oh, how Papa would have loved to have seen it!"

Annoyed, Nouria shushed her daughter sternly. The very last thing they needed to be right now was conspicuous. Still walking fast, she pulled on Tasa's wrist, tugging her along the littered pavement. It was too late.

A drunk with a matted beard and acne-pitted skin reeled out from a nearby alley, blocking their path. Nouria gagged as a choking stench of sour liquor and unwashed flesh rolled over her. After her first appalled look at this shambling wreck, she lowered her gaze and tried to walk around the man.

He staggered closer, forcing her to step back. The drunk, with his eyes bulging, coughed and spat and then moaned - uttering a low, guttural groan that was more dog-like than human.

Disgusted, Nouria grimaced and stepped back farther, pulling Tasa with her. Part of her ached that her beautiful little girl was being exposed to so much filth and degradation and depravity. Why, this cochon was so intoxicated that he could not even speak! She averted her eyes from the sight, wondering what she should do to get away from this stinking brute. Should she scoop Tasa up in her arms and make a dash back across the street? Or would that only draw even more unwanted attention?

'Mama!" her daughter murmured. "Something awful is happening to him. See? He's bleeding all over!"

Nouria looked up and saw with horror that Tasa was right. The drunk

had collapsed in front of her, falling onto his hands and knees. Blood trickled onto the pavement, dripping from his mouth and from the terrible wounds spreading along the length of his arms and legs. Strips of flesh peeled away from his face and dropped to the ground, already turning into a reddish, translucent slime. He moaned again, quivering wildly as spasms of agony wracked his disintegrating body.

Stifling her own terrified screams, Nouria backed away from the dying man, putting her hand over her daughter's eyes to shield her from the gruesome sight. Hearing more anguished howls behind her, she whirled round. Many of the other men, women, and children who had also been out along the street were on their knees or curled up in agony-screaming, groaning, and clawing at themselves in a mindless, twitching frenzy. Dozens were already affected. And even as she watched, more and more fell prey to the invisible horror stalking their neighborhood.

For several seemingly endless seconds Nouria only stared at the hellish scene around her in mounting dread, scarcely able to comprehend the magnitude of the slaughter happening right before her panicked eyes. Then she gathered Tasa in her arms and ran, scrambling toward the nearest doorway in a frantic effort to find shelter.

But it was already far too late.

Nouria Besseghir felt the first burning waves of pain rippling outward from her heaving lungs, spreading with every breath through the rest of her body. Shrieking aloud in fear, she stumbled and fell - trying vainly to cushion her daughter against the impact with arms that were already disintegrating, shredding apart as skin and muscle tissue dissolved, pulling away from her bones.

More knives of fire stabbed at her eyes. Her vision blurred, dimmed, and then vanished. With the last traces of nerves remaining in what was left of her once-pretty face she felt something wet and soft sliding out of her eye sockets. She sank to the pavement, praying for oblivion, praying for a death that would stop the pain w racking every part of her flailing,

shuddering body. She also prayed desperately for her daughter, hoping against hope that her little girl would be spared this same suffering.

But in the end, before the final darkness claimed her,