[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
The sound of another truck came, somewhere ahead of her, and she started for
it. Stumbling, still dizzy and feeling somewhat disembodied, she made the road
in about half an hour.
It was a pretty fancy freeway: four lanes in each direction cutting a swath
through the wilderness.
It would take a lot of traffic to justify a road like this; in normal times it
would be crowded day and night. It was empty now.
There was a green exit sign off to her right, and she headed for it, hoping
that it would tell her
Page 73
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
where she was. Keeping close to the bushes and trees in case another truck
should come out of the darkness, she came close to the big sign in a few
minutes.
And, suddenly, she felt real panic, and started to tremble and feel sick.
Despite her farsightedness, she was in good position to read the huge
white-on--green letters and they stood out reasonably well in the lightning
flashes.
They just didn't make any sense. Her mind simply refused to put the symbols
together into words she could recognize, no sounds or images forming as she
stared at them.
She spent a few minutes getting hold of herself, telling herself it was
another byproduct of the drug that would wear off in time, but that thought
only helped a little.
There was a rumbling sound off in the distance, and before she could move a
large tractor-trailer truck came over the hill and rumbled toward her,
its bright lights cutting like knives through the darkness. She
flattened against the ground, and it came toward her as she held her breath.
Finally it passed, fairly close to her, its lights briefly illuminat-ing her
but obviously not enough to give the driver a clear look at her. It went
past without slowing down, a big rig with a tandem trailer, and passed out
of sight.
She turned slowly and looked at the sign again. It still made no sense to her,
but now she noticed the little blue signs underneath. These were symbols
tell-ing what could be found at the exit. The little white words underneath
were so many random squiggles, but there was the tent sign that meant camping
the lake, of course and an additional white cross that meant
hospital.
Hospital, she thought. Of course.
She looked at the squiggles underneath, knowing what they must say, but they
just wouldn't say the words to her.
She'd heard of the effect, but its happening to her was terrifying.
Still, there was nothing that could be done about it. It was probably
something that would pass, she had to believe that, and clung to it. For now,
she had to get moving, and that meant away from that hos-pital, away from this
exit sign.
She was starting to feel hungry, with a particular craving for something
sweet, but she knew that meals might be few and far between in the near
future.
Now what, though?
she mused, a dark feeling of hopelessness coming on. She was as good as naked,
hungry, in a wilderness the whereabouts of which she didn't know, and with,
undoubtedly, a search on for her.
Escaping was a lot easier in the movies than it was in real life. Still, the
alternative, turning herself in and going back to wherever she'd come from,
was as good as death to her. That truck had to be going somewhere important;
she decided to keep hidden but follow the road.
Several hours later, when the sunrise told her that she was heading west, she
was itchy and aching and even more hungry, but at least the storm had not hit
and the clouds seemed to be breaking up a bit.
At the next exit there was a military checkpoint. Several trucks
were backed up as soldiers examined cargoes, bills of lading, and
the truckers' passes and orders before allowing them to proceed. They
were not looking for anyone on foot out here, though, and she avoided them
easily.
A bit later in the morning she came upon a small pool, panicking some deer
who'd stopped for their early morning drink. In the surface of the pool she
could see herself for the first time.
The water could be used to wash off some still painful cuts and to get rid of
some of the dirt and grime. It made her feel better, but the gown was only a
Page 74
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
collection of rags held by tenuous threads into a semblance of a garment now,
and stained with oil and grease. Her hair had been cut in a boyish
style and to within three centimeters in length. Even slightly
blurred and distorted by her
vision and the pool, she thought her face looked more like a young man's in
his mid-twenties than a woman in her early forties. It looked like a different
person entirely. The rest of her body, however, betrayed her sex if not her
age. She was in very good condition and had a nice shape which the remains
of the gown did nothing to hide.
She drank some needed water and headed back into the woods toward the road.
After a minute or two she hit a huge patch of moss and lichens grow-ing out
from and connecting several fairly large trees. The result formed a mat
which felt soft and nice, and she was terribly tired. She stretched
out on it to rest for a few minutes, and was soon fast asleep.
She awoke when the sun was across the sky. She felt rested and refreshed,
although her back ached from the uneven natural bed. The disembodied
and uncoordinated feelings remained, but could be controlled. A result of
the sleep, though, had been, in twisting and tossing, the end of the bindings
of the gown.
She considered what to do now. Oddly, being alone and naked in the wilderness
had an oddly sex-ual feeling. This feeling of arousal disturbed her, but she
couldn't fight it.
Still, naked she was even more restricted, and she turned finally to the
remains of the gown. It was a long one, of course, which had caused some of
the problems, but there was a fair amount of whole cloth left.
Carefully experimenting, trying it several ways, tearing a bit here
and there, she managed to make a makeshift wraparound that covered her from
bust to a little below the thighs.
Binding it to-gether was a pain. She finally managed, by a combination of
biting and tearing, to make a couple of small holes and use the remnants of
the gown's straps as a sort of tie, done in front so there would be little
chance of slippage without her knowing it.
She was so proud of her fast-thinking handiwork that it was all the more
frustrating when she couldn't seem to tie bows in the straps. She finally
managed to make knots, knots that might have to be broken to be untied, but it
made an unholy mess and drew the thing tightly where tied. They were like a
little child's attempts at knots, she thought angrily, but after a lot of
false tries they seemed to hold and that would be enough for now.
Near dusk she reached some vineyards. The coun-try was picture-postcard style,
with rows upon rows of grape vines stretching out in all directions. They were
sour and probably not yet ripe, yet she ate them and ate them, spitting out
seeds with abandon. They filled a need, and if they made her sick later, well,
so what? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
The sound of another truck came, somewhere ahead of her, and she started for
it. Stumbling, still dizzy and feeling somewhat disembodied, she made the road
in about half an hour.
It was a pretty fancy freeway: four lanes in each direction cutting a swath
through the wilderness.
It would take a lot of traffic to justify a road like this; in normal times it
would be crowded day and night. It was empty now.
There was a green exit sign off to her right, and she headed for it, hoping
that it would tell her
Page 73
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
where she was. Keeping close to the bushes and trees in case another truck
should come out of the darkness, she came close to the big sign in a few
minutes.
And, suddenly, she felt real panic, and started to tremble and feel sick.
Despite her farsightedness, she was in good position to read the huge
white-on--green letters and they stood out reasonably well in the lightning
flashes.
They just didn't make any sense. Her mind simply refused to put the symbols
together into words she could recognize, no sounds or images forming as she
stared at them.
She spent a few minutes getting hold of herself, telling herself it was
another byproduct of the drug that would wear off in time, but that thought
only helped a little.
There was a rumbling sound off in the distance, and before she could move a
large tractor-trailer truck came over the hill and rumbled toward her,
its bright lights cutting like knives through the darkness. She
flattened against the ground, and it came toward her as she held her breath.
Finally it passed, fairly close to her, its lights briefly illuminat-ing her
but obviously not enough to give the driver a clear look at her. It went
past without slowing down, a big rig with a tandem trailer, and passed out
of sight.
She turned slowly and looked at the sign again. It still made no sense to her,
but now she noticed the little blue signs underneath. These were symbols
tell-ing what could be found at the exit. The little white words underneath
were so many random squiggles, but there was the tent sign that meant camping
the lake, of course and an additional white cross that meant
hospital.
Hospital, she thought. Of course.
She looked at the squiggles underneath, knowing what they must say, but they
just wouldn't say the words to her.
She'd heard of the effect, but its happening to her was terrifying.
Still, there was nothing that could be done about it. It was probably
something that would pass, she had to believe that, and clung to it. For now,
she had to get moving, and that meant away from that hos-pital, away from this
exit sign.
She was starting to feel hungry, with a particular craving for something
sweet, but she knew that meals might be few and far between in the near
future.
Now what, though?
she mused, a dark feeling of hopelessness coming on. She was as good as naked,
hungry, in a wilderness the whereabouts of which she didn't know, and with,
undoubtedly, a search on for her.
Escaping was a lot easier in the movies than it was in real life. Still, the
alternative, turning herself in and going back to wherever she'd come from,
was as good as death to her. That truck had to be going somewhere important;
she decided to keep hidden but follow the road.
Several hours later, when the sunrise told her that she was heading west, she
was itchy and aching and even more hungry, but at least the storm had not hit
and the clouds seemed to be breaking up a bit.
At the next exit there was a military checkpoint. Several trucks
were backed up as soldiers examined cargoes, bills of lading, and
the truckers' passes and orders before allowing them to proceed. They
were not looking for anyone on foot out here, though, and she avoided them
easily.
A bit later in the morning she came upon a small pool, panicking some deer
who'd stopped for their early morning drink. In the surface of the pool she
could see herself for the first time.
The water could be used to wash off some still painful cuts and to get rid of
some of the dirt and grime. It made her feel better, but the gown was only a
Page 74
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
collection of rags held by tenuous threads into a semblance of a garment now,
and stained with oil and grease. Her hair had been cut in a boyish
style and to within three centimeters in length. Even slightly
blurred and distorted by her
vision and the pool, she thought her face looked more like a young man's in
his mid-twenties than a woman in her early forties. It looked like a different
person entirely. The rest of her body, however, betrayed her sex if not her
age. She was in very good condition and had a nice shape which the remains
of the gown did nothing to hide.
She drank some needed water and headed back into the woods toward the road.
After a minute or two she hit a huge patch of moss and lichens grow-ing out
from and connecting several fairly large trees. The result formed a mat
which felt soft and nice, and she was terribly tired. She stretched
out on it to rest for a few minutes, and was soon fast asleep.
She awoke when the sun was across the sky. She felt rested and refreshed,
although her back ached from the uneven natural bed. The disembodied
and uncoordinated feelings remained, but could be controlled. A result of
the sleep, though, had been, in twisting and tossing, the end of the bindings
of the gown.
She considered what to do now. Oddly, being alone and naked in the wilderness
had an oddly sex-ual feeling. This feeling of arousal disturbed her, but she
couldn't fight it.
Still, naked she was even more restricted, and she turned finally to the
remains of the gown. It was a long one, of course, which had caused some of
the problems, but there was a fair amount of whole cloth left.
Carefully experimenting, trying it several ways, tearing a bit here
and there, she managed to make a makeshift wraparound that covered her from
bust to a little below the thighs.
Binding it to-gether was a pain. She finally managed, by a combination of
biting and tearing, to make a couple of small holes and use the remnants of
the gown's straps as a sort of tie, done in front so there would be little
chance of slippage without her knowing it.
She was so proud of her fast-thinking handiwork that it was all the more
frustrating when she couldn't seem to tie bows in the straps. She finally
managed to make knots, knots that might have to be broken to be untied, but it
made an unholy mess and drew the thing tightly where tied. They were like a
little child's attempts at knots, she thought angrily, but after a lot of
false tries they seemed to hold and that would be enough for now.
Near dusk she reached some vineyards. The coun-try was picture-postcard style,
with rows upon rows of grape vines stretching out in all directions. They were
sour and probably not yet ripe, yet she ate them and ate them, spitting out
seeds with abandon. They filled a need, and if they made her sick later, well,
so what? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]