[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
couldn't truly provide what was needed, and that was a sense of direction.
No time to think about that. Ryan kicked his feet and began to push himself
upward, struggling against the water pressure weighing down upon his head.
There was a roaring in his ears as he left the sub's black shape behind.
Ryan's throat felt tight. He felt a rush of claustro-phobia, which was strange
for two reasons. First of all, he normally didn't suffer from the affliction.
Sec-ondly he'd been held within the confines of the sink-ing
Raleigh with no problem.
Still, this sensation wasn't totally alien to him. It felt almost familiar
somehow.
Then he remembered.
The dream. The vision. The nightmare he'd suf-fered days earlier during the
jump into the Florida redoubt. Ryan grimly sucked dry air from the oxygen tank
strapped to his back, and the taste grew more and more metallic, as if the
tank were almost empty.
He extinguished the thought. Paranoia would in-duce panic. He'd checked the
tank himself. The charge was true. Breath easy. Push up.
Ryan's chest echoed heavily with the dull thud of a waterlogged pump, each
heartbeat a resounding contraction of muscle in his body. He watched the
bubbles from his mouthpiece float upward, capturing them in the light of the
flashlight. He used the beam to follow their path with his good right eye,
tracking them until they faded into the gloom, and tried to focus on what
Page 144
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
might lie beyond them up there.
He knew what he would find. There was no sky overhead. No clouds, no
stars& nothing but water. He squinted, and took in the sight of the infinite
green of the ocean. No lake or man-made pool had ever offered up such a color
of green, a green duskier than the blackest of any moonless night, and just as
dark and infinite.
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...%20-%20Deathlands%2039%20-%20Wa
tersleep.html (268 of 275) [12/29/2004 9:10:16 PM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep
The green was everywhere, surrounding his entire body and being.
In the dream, Ryan had been warm. That part of the mat-trans-induced mental
journey was a false-hood. He'd known the ocean depths would be as cold as ice,
and now he found he was incredibly cold, for there was no sun. No sky.
Only water. Only death.
Ryan willed his legs to kick, his arms to push down to check his descent, push
past the strange eellike creatures that were swimming past, their mouths
yawning open as they sifted through the brine for mi-croscopic bits of
plankton.
Push past the sinking hull of the submarine.
A red haze was starting to lay itself over his field of vision from lack of
oxygen.
True or imagined? He couldn't be sure. Ryan was tired, so tired now. A
coppery, bitter taste filled his mouth, mixing with the traces of salt water.
A man always has a choice
, came the grizzled voice of the Trader, whispering in
Ryan's ear.
He can either live& or he can die
.
As his lungs began to ache and his heartbeat grew even louder in his ears,
Krysty's face shone like a beacon in Ryan's mind's eye. He thought of his son,
Dean, and how he wanted to see the boy become a man. He thought of J.B., who
was like a brother to him. He thought of Doc and his endless supply of quotes
and stories; of
Mildred's love of people and knowledge of how to heal; and of Jak's unwavering
trust and willingness to follow him into anything.
He thought of them all.
Ryan decided to ante up the jack and buy the pack-age. He knew from previous
experiences he was psi-sensitive. If he'd been exposed to some kind of
bi-zarre doomie prophecy back in the gateway, then he was going to see it
through.
As he had during his nightmare, he willingly clung to the image of Krysty her
lips, her body, her hair undulating in reaction to her many moods. But this
time,
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...%20-%20Deathlands%2039%20-%20Wa
tersleep.html (269 of 275) [12/29/2004 9:10:16 PM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep he also clung to the images of his
entire family. His friends. Or, as Poseidon had contemptuously re-ferred to
Ryan's group back at Kings Point, "his peo-ple."
Ryan struggled to make his body work, willing his muscles to pull taut and
assist his ascent. In a burst of movement, he was rewarded with his legs
kicking out and his arms pushing down. How many feet down? Four hundred? He
unbuckled the web belt and released one of the weights strapped around his
waist. Four hundred feet? Not far to go.
Up and out. Focus. Focus.
Something brushed against his ankle, then grabbed down hard.
Ryan was so startled, he almost spit out his mouth-piece. As he turned back,
Page 145
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
valiantly striving to keep his sense of direction intact, he saw a humanoid
shape near his feet. Fireblast! Had that son of a bitch Po-seidon gotten up
with half of his head stove in and managed to follow him out here, as well? Or
was it Brosnan, his hood having not functioned as planned?
He swung down his torch and the sickly yellow flashlight beam revealed the
face of a Dweller. Ryan felt a cautious rush of relief mixed with fear. Why
was the mutie fishman down here? And did the mu-tant know Ryan wasn't one of
Poseidon's men?
Shit on a dinner plate, how could he even begin to explain it?
Then Ryan realized he knew this mutie.
This was the one Shauna had called Mike, the one who had saved them after
Poseidon's mine had ripped into their boat during the storm.
Mike gestured, and Ryan followed with the flash-light, revealing a half dozen
other Dwellers swim-ming at an angle above them. They were busy with
Brosnan's body, tearing the former follower of Po-seidon limb from limb, their
incredible strength hit-ting home to Ryan for the first time.
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...%20-%20Deathlands%2039%20-%20Wa
tersleep.html (270 of 275) [12/29/2004 9:10:16 PM] [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
couldn't truly provide what was needed, and that was a sense of direction.
No time to think about that. Ryan kicked his feet and began to push himself
upward, struggling against the water pressure weighing down upon his head.
There was a roaring in his ears as he left the sub's black shape behind.
Ryan's throat felt tight. He felt a rush of claustro-phobia, which was strange
for two reasons. First of all, he normally didn't suffer from the affliction.
Sec-ondly he'd been held within the confines of the sink-ing
Raleigh with no problem.
Still, this sensation wasn't totally alien to him. It felt almost familiar
somehow.
Then he remembered.
The dream. The vision. The nightmare he'd suf-fered days earlier during the
jump into the Florida redoubt. Ryan grimly sucked dry air from the oxygen tank
strapped to his back, and the taste grew more and more metallic, as if the
tank were almost empty.
He extinguished the thought. Paranoia would in-duce panic. He'd checked the
tank himself. The charge was true. Breath easy. Push up.
Ryan's chest echoed heavily with the dull thud of a waterlogged pump, each
heartbeat a resounding contraction of muscle in his body. He watched the
bubbles from his mouthpiece float upward, capturing them in the light of the
flashlight. He used the beam to follow their path with his good right eye,
tracking them until they faded into the gloom, and tried to focus on what
Page 144
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
might lie beyond them up there.
He knew what he would find. There was no sky overhead. No clouds, no
stars& nothing but water. He squinted, and took in the sight of the infinite
green of the ocean. No lake or man-made pool had ever offered up such a color
of green, a green duskier than the blackest of any moonless night, and just as
dark and infinite.
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...%20-%20Deathlands%2039%20-%20Wa
tersleep.html (268 of 275) [12/29/2004 9:10:16 PM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep
The green was everywhere, surrounding his entire body and being.
In the dream, Ryan had been warm. That part of the mat-trans-induced mental
journey was a false-hood. He'd known the ocean depths would be as cold as ice,
and now he found he was incredibly cold, for there was no sun. No sky.
Only water. Only death.
Ryan willed his legs to kick, his arms to push down to check his descent, push
past the strange eellike creatures that were swimming past, their mouths
yawning open as they sifted through the brine for mi-croscopic bits of
plankton.
Push past the sinking hull of the submarine.
A red haze was starting to lay itself over his field of vision from lack of
oxygen.
True or imagined? He couldn't be sure. Ryan was tired, so tired now. A
coppery, bitter taste filled his mouth, mixing with the traces of salt water.
A man always has a choice
, came the grizzled voice of the Trader, whispering in
Ryan's ear.
He can either live& or he can die
.
As his lungs began to ache and his heartbeat grew even louder in his ears,
Krysty's face shone like a beacon in Ryan's mind's eye. He thought of his son,
Dean, and how he wanted to see the boy become a man. He thought of J.B., who
was like a brother to him. He thought of Doc and his endless supply of quotes
and stories; of
Mildred's love of people and knowledge of how to heal; and of Jak's unwavering
trust and willingness to follow him into anything.
He thought of them all.
Ryan decided to ante up the jack and buy the pack-age. He knew from previous
experiences he was psi-sensitive. If he'd been exposed to some kind of
bi-zarre doomie prophecy back in the gateway, then he was going to see it
through.
As he had during his nightmare, he willingly clung to the image of Krysty her
lips, her body, her hair undulating in reaction to her many moods. But this
time,
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...%20-%20Deathlands%2039%20-%20Wa
tersleep.html (269 of 275) [12/29/2004 9:10:16 PM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep he also clung to the images of his
entire family. His friends. Or, as Poseidon had contemptuously re-ferred to
Ryan's group back at Kings Point, "his peo-ple."
Ryan struggled to make his body work, willing his muscles to pull taut and
assist his ascent. In a burst of movement, he was rewarded with his legs
kicking out and his arms pushing down. How many feet down? Four hundred? He
unbuckled the web belt and released one of the weights strapped around his
waist. Four hundred feet? Not far to go.
Up and out. Focus. Focus.
Something brushed against his ankle, then grabbed down hard.
Ryan was so startled, he almost spit out his mouth-piece. As he turned back,
Page 145
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
valiantly striving to keep his sense of direction intact, he saw a humanoid
shape near his feet. Fireblast! Had that son of a bitch Po-seidon gotten up
with half of his head stove in and managed to follow him out here, as well? Or
was it Brosnan, his hood having not functioned as planned?
He swung down his torch and the sickly yellow flashlight beam revealed the
face of a Dweller. Ryan felt a cautious rush of relief mixed with fear. Why
was the mutie fishman down here? And did the mu-tant know Ryan wasn't one of
Poseidon's men?
Shit on a dinner plate, how could he even begin to explain it?
Then Ryan realized he knew this mutie.
This was the one Shauna had called Mike, the one who had saved them after
Poseidon's mine had ripped into their boat during the storm.
Mike gestured, and Ryan followed with the flash-light, revealing a half dozen
other Dwellers swim-ming at an angle above them. They were busy with
Brosnan's body, tearing the former follower of Po-seidon limb from limb, their
incredible strength hit-ting home to Ryan for the first time.
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/Ja...%20-%20Deathlands%2039%20-%20Wa
tersleep.html (270 of 275) [12/29/2004 9:10:16 PM] [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]