Armando Lazzari
Lilith
Translated by
FATIMA IMMACOLATA PRETTA
Title | Lilith
Author | Armando Lazzari
Cover by the author
Translated by Fatima Immacolata Pretta
© (2021) All rights reserved to the Author (Armando Lazzari)
No part of this book may be reproduced without the prior consent of the Author.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
This novel is a work of pure fantasy. Any reference to personal names, places, events, e-mail addresses, websites, telephone numbers, historical facts, whether they really existed or still existing, is to be considered purely coincidental and involuntary.
I apologize in advance to anyone reading the novel who may have felt insulted or mocked in any way by a sentence of mine, assuring you that it was not my intention.
For the rest, thank you and I wish everyone a good read.
Armando Lazzari
All literary rights in this work are exclusive property of the author.
Dedicated to:
My children Alexander and Nicole, always in my thoughts.
My wife Alessandra, my partner in life.
To my parents Marisa and Augusto, who gave me their life and illuminated the path.
To my sister Tatiana, may you like and enjoy yourself.
The inexplicable assumption, that the unreal is enclosed only in the distorted dreams of madmen,
it falters inexorably when the absurd, projecting itself into our reality, penetrates as deeply as it is
difficult to say that even a simple pointed stone can be such and not a dangerous and mysterious weapon that will tear our soul apart.
Armando Lazzari
Summary
Prologue
The chase
One hundred and twenty.
The foot, arching, pushes even harder on the accelerator.
One hundred and thirty.
The man looks in the rear-view mirror and curses through clenched teeth:
"Damn, they don't let up!"
One hundred and forty: the road is too bumpy and the risk is too great, but he can't help himself, because he knows that if they just catch up with him....
No!
He shakes his head, chasing away the thought of what they would do to him... or not do!
Another glance at the mirror gives him another concern.
"Oh gosh! The guns!"
One hundred and sixty: that's the limit, he can't go any higher than that, not there!
He knows he needs a solution soon.
Bhang! Bhang!
"Shit, shit, shit..."
The bullets fly past him like a swarm of angry wasps.
He understands that at that rate, he won't stand a chance. He needs reinforcements and activates the voice recognition command device.
"Menu. Phone: Activate. Address book: Father. Call."
Tuu! Tuu! Tuu!
"Pick up, come on... pick up Father!"
Bhang! Bhang! Crash!
The response comes in conjunction with the rear window explosion.
"Where are you? We have a problem."
"Just one, Father? I've got several here, problems, sticking behind my ass and shooting! Where's the cavalry at?"
"Five of the boys are dead...three others are badly wounded: I can't send you anyone else, I'm sorry but you'll have to manage on your own. I know you'll make it, you've been in worse situations."
The first challenging curves