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- Herausgeber: Al-Mashreq eBookstore
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Serie: Doc. Turner Series
- Sprache: Englisch
Slave Buyer by Arthur Leo Zagat is a gritty and harrowing tale set in a dystopian future where human lives are traded like commodities. In a world where freedom is a luxury few can afford, the shadowy figure known as the Slave Buyer prowls the dark alleys and underground markets, dealing in flesh and souls. But when one of his "purchases" turns out to be more than he bargained for, the tables are turned in a deadly game of survival and rebellion. As secrets are unveiled and alliances are formed, the Slave Buyer must confront the twisted reality he helped create—or be destroyed by it. Dive into this intense, thought-provoking story where the price of humanity is paid in blood.
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Seitenzahl: 23
Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024
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Table of Contents
Slave Buyer
Synopsis
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Landmarks
Table of Contents
Cover
Slave Buyer
Synopsis
In a prison tenement on Morris Street, a slave-whip cracked, lashing human souls down the road of misery and despair! And Doc Turner, kindly grey defender of the oppressed, walked into death's dark alley to save those souls from their living hell!
The Spider, July 1937, with "Doc Turner—Slave Buyer"
1
DOC TURNER halted abruptly. His head turned, slowly, toward the black mouth of the alley out of which had come a rustle of newspapers, and then a low sob, instantly hushed.
The tenement-lined street was a desolate ravine, its darkness relieved only by the glimmer of street lamps whose light struggled wearily to penetrate the river fog. The hoot of a lonely ferry came to Doc, deep and melancholy against the distant growl of the never-sleeping city, but on Morris Street the brooding silence was broken now only by the sound of breathing; the old man's own breathing and the intermittent faint whisper of another's.
Turner's frail and feeble-seeming form was the only occupant of the night-bound sidewalk. In the wee hours between midnight and dawn even the teeming slum sleeps; the raucous cries of its push-cart hucksters, the cries of its tattered children, the polyglot chatter of its alien denizens all stilled by weariness. Even the thin whine of ailing babes cannot go on forever.
Doc's faded blue eyes peered out from under the eaves of his beetling white brows, probing the murky slit between two high walls of weather-stained brick. No cat, no draggled canine, had ever sobbed like that. A human must lie within those shadows, a human in trouble.
The muffled sound came again, breaking irresistibly through a throat tightened to throttle it. He moved toward it.
Within the alley the garbage-smell was foul in Andrew Turner's flaring nostrils. He wiped the fog's wet from his drooping white mustache with a gnarled hand whose sensitive fingers were stained by the medicines he had compounded and dispensed here on Morris Street for more years than he cared to count. Something pale showed in the black. He stooped to it.
His reaching hand touched paper, felt beneath it a small frame of bones. A squeal of pure terror came out of the pallid shadow. The form Doc had touched squirmed away, then sprang upward with a crisp rustle of the newspapers that had covered it.
