[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
exposed hand.
"Hope not," Soto replied, kneeling at the corpse, using the muzzle of his long
blaster to poke at the creature's exposed underbelly.
"You're a lot of help," Krysty snorted to the smaller Hispanic man.
"I answer true, girl. I don't think the spines are poison, but I don't know
for sure. I
never tried to find out, if you know what I mean."
"You test subject, Ryan," Jak said, grinning, showing off sharp-looking teeth.
"How you feel?"
"Felt better," Ryan replied as the gauze was wrapped around his hand. "Felt a
lot worse. Don't feel sick or poisoned."
"Looks like Jak has the makings of a decent field medic," J.B. noted, glancing
at the albino's handiwork on Ryan's injuries. "If Millie doesn't watch out,
she'll be out of a job."
"Tough for you," Jak replied. "Not share your bed." Dean snorted and laughed,
but didn't turn. He remained alert, his Browning Hi-Power cocked and ready to
shoot if more firepower was needed.
Ryan held a hunk of the remaining gauze to his bleeding face. Jak had offered
to attach a pad with some of the white adhesive tape, but Ryan told him no.
The bleeding was already starting to ease.
"All right. Let's go on down," Ryan said.
Deathlands 2095
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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem
DOC TANNER CAME to his senses in the middle of what he believed to be the
worst fog he'd ever encountered in his life. And how long was that life?
Thirty years or a hundred years? An unruly mass of days and decades and he
neither cared to nor could he keep count. He was flat on his stomach in the
dirt, now in a world whose floor had been jerked out from beneath his feet.
Somehow, he'd managed to gather up his clothing and dress himself, but having
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
lost track of time long ago, he had no real concept how long he'd been
stumbling down the treacherous mountain path. Chunks of his conscious mind,
along with his immediate short-term memory, were missing, as if sliced away by
a butcher's blade and discarded in some charnel pit.
Even worse, there were a few times he knew for certain, or at least, as
certain as he could be in his addled state, that he'd blacked out while trying
to stagger along his chosen path in the damp mist.
The last memory he could pull up from his brain was that of Emily. In the
memory, the hour was early, perhaps seven in the morning. He'd dined on
poached eggs, crisp bacon and day-old bread recovered from the previous
night's meal that had been toasted to disguise its origins. He and Emily were
standing at the front door of his home, and she was nagging at him in a
pleasant tone to not be late, as they were expecting her parents for supper.
Emily was still in her nightclothes, covered by a filmy pink robe for
modesty's sake. However, for some reason, the robe wasn't tied around her
middle her more than ample middle. The belt wasn't long enough, he supposed,
since her frame was normally so petite. In fact, blessed Emily was getting
quite the gut on her, but Doc was so happy he didn't care.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he stepped through the front door of the
apartment. And everything appeared normal, except he didn't recall Emily being
so overweight.
"By the Three Kennedys!" he said aloud. "Emily was pregnant!"
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blem.html (185 of 264) [12/31/2004 12:21:14 AM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem
Pregnant with their first child? Their second? Doc had no clue.
The apartment& they hadn't lived there in how many years? Before Rachel was
born, yes! That much he was sure of, and when her young face appeared in his
mind's eye, Doc felt an almost inconsolable, unbearable tidal wave of
wrenching pain and loss inundate his entire being.
All around him, the fog was growing heavier, but Doc didn't notice in the
slightest, since he was weighted down by an even heavier fog from within.
Night and day and another night passed as he stumbled along, sleeping when he
was tired, hungry beyond imagining, but he never seemed to black out for very
long.
He was found facedown on the broken tarmac of an old highway, his skull coming
close to being crushed under the wheel of a small armored transport. The
occupants believed the long-haired elder to be a drunk from the nearby town of
Mocsin, but none of them could identify the face. The direction he'd
apparently been traveling also gave them pause. Behind Doc was nothing but the
mysterious
Black Hills, a mystery which those above them in the chain of command had
expressed an interest in.
Doc was kept alive. There were men who would want to talk to him.
He awakened in a toilet, his long legs bent and hanging over the side of a
bathtub.
After struggling to gain his footing, Doc looked in the cracked mirror hanging
crookedly over the filthy washbasin. He squinted once, twice and closed his
pale blue eyes to refocus before taking another peek.
"What carnival jest is this?" he wondered aloud to himself, for what was
looking mutely back at him wasn't his face, no, couldn't be his face, since he
knew damn well the visage he was seeing was that of his own sainted father.
"No more," he said in a quavering voice, watching his chapped lips move in the
mirror's reflection.
"Gods of the universe, I can take no more of this. How many more pounds of
flesh can I give before nothing is left but barren white bone? Accursed
speculum, why do you show me such a terrible sight?"
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/...20Deathlands%2043%20-%20Dark%20Em
Page 103
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blem.html (186 of 264) [12/31/2004 12:21:14 AM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl fopke.keep.pl
exposed hand.
"Hope not," Soto replied, kneeling at the corpse, using the muzzle of his long
blaster to poke at the creature's exposed underbelly.
"You're a lot of help," Krysty snorted to the smaller Hispanic man.
"I answer true, girl. I don't think the spines are poison, but I don't know
for sure. I
never tried to find out, if you know what I mean."
"You test subject, Ryan," Jak said, grinning, showing off sharp-looking teeth.
"How you feel?"
"Felt better," Ryan replied as the gauze was wrapped around his hand. "Felt a
lot worse. Don't feel sick or poisoned."
"Looks like Jak has the makings of a decent field medic," J.B. noted, glancing
at the albino's handiwork on Ryan's injuries. "If Millie doesn't watch out,
she'll be out of a job."
"Tough for you," Jak replied. "Not share your bed." Dean snorted and laughed,
but didn't turn. He remained alert, his Browning Hi-Power cocked and ready to
shoot if more firepower was needed.
Ryan held a hunk of the remaining gauze to his bleeding face. Jak had offered
to attach a pad with some of the white adhesive tape, but Ryan told him no.
The bleeding was already starting to ease.
"All right. Let's go on down," Ryan said.
Deathlands 2095
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/...20Deathlands%2043%20-%20Dark%20Em
blem.html (184 of 264) [12/31/2004 12:21:14 AM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem
DOC TANNER CAME to his senses in the middle of what he believed to be the
worst fog he'd ever encountered in his life. And how long was that life?
Thirty years or a hundred years? An unruly mass of days and decades and he
neither cared to nor could he keep count. He was flat on his stomach in the
dirt, now in a world whose floor had been jerked out from beneath his feet.
Somehow, he'd managed to gather up his clothing and dress himself, but having
Page 102
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
lost track of time long ago, he had no real concept how long he'd been
stumbling down the treacherous mountain path. Chunks of his conscious mind,
along with his immediate short-term memory, were missing, as if sliced away by
a butcher's blade and discarded in some charnel pit.
Even worse, there were a few times he knew for certain, or at least, as
certain as he could be in his addled state, that he'd blacked out while trying
to stagger along his chosen path in the damp mist.
The last memory he could pull up from his brain was that of Emily. In the
memory, the hour was early, perhaps seven in the morning. He'd dined on
poached eggs, crisp bacon and day-old bread recovered from the previous
night's meal that had been toasted to disguise its origins. He and Emily were
standing at the front door of his home, and she was nagging at him in a
pleasant tone to not be late, as they were expecting her parents for supper.
Emily was still in her nightclothes, covered by a filmy pink robe for
modesty's sake. However, for some reason, the robe wasn't tied around her
middle her more than ample middle. The belt wasn't long enough, he supposed,
since her frame was normally so petite. In fact, blessed Emily was getting
quite the gut on her, but Doc was so happy he didn't care.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and he stepped through the front door of the
apartment. And everything appeared normal, except he didn't recall Emily being
so overweight.
"By the Three Kennedys!" he said aloud. "Emily was pregnant!"
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/...20Deathlands%2043%20-%20Dark%20Em
blem.html (185 of 264) [12/31/2004 12:21:14 AM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem
Pregnant with their first child? Their second? Doc had no clue.
The apartment& they hadn't lived there in how many years? Before Rachel was
born, yes! That much he was sure of, and when her young face appeared in his
mind's eye, Doc felt an almost inconsolable, unbearable tidal wave of
wrenching pain and loss inundate his entire being.
All around him, the fog was growing heavier, but Doc didn't notice in the
slightest, since he was weighted down by an even heavier fog from within.
Night and day and another night passed as he stumbled along, sleeping when he
was tired, hungry beyond imagining, but he never seemed to black out for very
long.
He was found facedown on the broken tarmac of an old highway, his skull coming
close to being crushed under the wheel of a small armored transport. The
occupants believed the long-haired elder to be a drunk from the nearby town of
Mocsin, but none of them could identify the face. The direction he'd
apparently been traveling also gave them pause. Behind Doc was nothing but the
mysterious
Black Hills, a mystery which those above them in the chain of command had
expressed an interest in.
Doc was kept alive. There were men who would want to talk to him.
He awakened in a toilet, his long legs bent and hanging over the side of a
bathtub.
After struggling to gain his footing, Doc looked in the cracked mirror hanging
crookedly over the filthy washbasin. He squinted once, twice and closed his
pale blue eyes to refocus before taking another peek.
"What carnival jest is this?" he wondered aloud to himself, for what was
looking mutely back at him wasn't his face, no, couldn't be his face, since he
knew damn well the visage he was seeing was that of his own sainted father.
"No more," he said in a quavering voice, watching his chapped lips move in the
mirror's reflection.
"Gods of the universe, I can take no more of this. How many more pounds of
flesh can I give before nothing is left but barren white bone? Accursed
speculum, why do you show me such a terrible sight?"
file:///G|/Program%20Files/eMule/Incoming/...20Deathlands%2043%20-%20Dark%20Em
Page 103
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
blem.html (186 of 264) [12/31/2004 12:21:14 AM]
Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_43_-_Dark_Emblem [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]