American library books Β» Other Β» Justice League of America - Batman: The Stone King by Alan Grant (best books to read for self development .TXT) πŸ“•

Read book online Β«Justice League of America - Batman: The Stone King by Alan Grant (best books to read for self development .TXT) πŸ“•Β».   Author   -   Alan Grant



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guests looked around quizzically, wondering if this was some new entertainment with which Horace and his wife were going to dazzle them.

Slowly the terrible stench of rotting flesh drifted into the high-ceilinged room.

Something's wrong! The words screamed in Diana's mind as she strode quickly past the Westers' expressionless butler and headed down the hall toward the front entrance, wrinkling her nose against the growing smell.

She turned a corner and approached the mansion's opulent reception area. The opaque glass entrance door had been smashed beyond repair. Several zombie corpses had hauled the Westers' master of ceremonies to the polished parquet floor. Blood spouted from a dozen places on the dying man's body.

Diana ran forward, grabbing one of the skeletons from behind. She yanked it off the dignitary's still-twitching body, surprised at the strength of the creature's resistance, and hurled it against the wall. There was a hollow snapping of bone. A leg broke off entirely, and the corpse pitched to the floor. Diana stamped hard on its scrabbling fingers, then turned her attention to the others.

Normally, Wonder Woman preferred discussion to violence. Part of her mother's instructions had been that she should attempt to spread the message of peace on Earth. That was hard enough, among a species that seemed to delight in waging war against its fellow members. But how did you preach peace to murdering zombies?

Fortunately, the ancient gods had smiled upon Princess Diana. They endowed her with the power of superhuman strength, gave her the Golden Lasso of Truth, and provided the silver bracelets that had the ability to ward off any missile.

She thanked the gods silently, as three of the skeletons turned toward her. She saw jagged slivers of glass from the destroyed door, held like daggers in their fleshless hands. She dodged aside as the first zombie swung its weapon, deflecting the blow on the silver bracelet around her wrist Then her fist shot out in a savage punch that took the zombie full in what was once its face. The monster's skull shattered in an explosion of bone.

But the headless body didn't fall. It merely redoubled its efforts to skewer her as its companions joined in the attack.

Wonder Woman rained a series of heavy blows on her attackers, smashing the rib cage of one and completely snapping the arm off another. Their glass knives went flying. But even with limbs and skulls shattered, the corpses fought on. Hands that were almost as strong as hers clawed at her body, and bony fists knuckled into her with blows that hurt.

From the other end of the hallway, she heard the sound of more breaking glass, followed closely by the screams of the Westers' guests. Gritting her teeth, Wonder Woman stepped up her assault.

Her fists sought out target after skeletal target. Her foot kicked out and up, the sole of her red-and-white knee boots landing squarely on a corpse's thigh. The bone snapped and, unable to retain its balance, the corpse toppled sideways to the floor. Even as it landed, Wonder Woman's foot stamped down hard on its skull, smashing it to smithereens.

Thirty seconds later, the hallway was littered with broken, disconnected bones, and Wonder Woman was streaking back to the party and the ongoing screams.

Her heart sickened as she entered the room. A large group of zombies had barged in through the window, and at least half a dozen people lay dead or wounded on the thick Chinese carpet. Horace Wester was trying to wrestle a skeleton away from his wife, and Sergei Vasily was swinging a heavy, cut-glass lamp standard around his head, trying to hold several of the zombies at bay.

Wonder Woman plunged among them like a whirlwind, fists flashing and feet flying. Time and again her blows landed home, cracking bones and pulverizing skulls. The zombies tried to retaliate, but their strength–wherever they derived it from–wasn't up to the task.

On the sound system, the music of Duke Ellington still played, a surreal backdrop to the slaughterhouse that the Westers' home had become.

Soon, there was only one zombie left intact. It lurched toward Wonder Woman, the fractured bones of its companions crunching under its feet. Easily avoiding the creature's clutching hands, Wonder Woman unclipped the golden lasso that dangled from her waist. It spun in her hand, then dropped lightly over the zombie's skull and down to the bulge of its chest. She pulled the noose tight, and the creature halted in its tracks.

Forged from the girdle of the Earth goddess, Gaia, the magic Lasso of Truth forced anything caught by it to be rigorously honest.

"What power has resurrected you?" Wonder Woman demanded of the trapped zombie. "Why are you here?"

The monster's toothless mouth moved, as if it was trying to comply with her demand, but no sound issued from it.

Realizing that she would not get a response, Wonder Woman tugged hard on the lasso, yanking the zombie toward her, and her fist powered into its skull. Seconds later, it too was no more than a pile of disconnected bones littering the expensive carpet.

All around her were the sounds of moaning people. She heard Horace Wester speaking on the telephone, urgently calling for ambulances and police. Sergei Vasily was crouched on the floor, sobbing as he cradled the head of his lifeless girlfriend. The room was redolent with the reek of death.

Wonder Woman was filled with heavy sadness. Queen Hippolyta had also charged her daughter with safeguarding humans against any kind of outside attack.

Tonight, she had failed.

Keystone City

Kurt Glaser glanced at the bank of dials that comprised the dashboard in the cab of the subway train he was driving. Everything A-OK.

This was the last trip on his schedule, the long, winding journey from South Chever Station up under the city center and on to the suburbs. According to the monitors, he was precisely on time, not a second early or late. It was something Kurt prided himself on; in thirty years of conducting trains, he had come to know the Keystone City underground like the

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