[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

At first, I as-su-med the ra-in had dri-ven them to the sur-fa-ce li-ke that.
Now, I think it might ha-ve be-en the-ir big brot-hers that for-ced them
top-si-de ins-te-ad. Ani-mals be-ha-ve stran-gely be-fo-re an earth-qu-ake or
a tsu-na-mi.
Maybe this is so-met-hing li-ke that. May-be they we-re fle-e-ing the
lar-ger ones. And if tho-se big worms we en-co-un-te-red to-day pus-hed the
Page 107
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
lit-tle worms abo-ve gro-und, then what do you sup-po-se is for-cing the
big-ger ones up now?"
"Something li-ke Le-vi-at-han?" Ke-vin as-ked.
I nod-ded. "Exactly. The-re are mo-re things in he-aven and earth than are
dre-amt of in yo-ur phi-lo-sophy."
Sarah lo-oked surp-ri-sed. "I didn't ta-ke you for a Sha-kes-pe-are fan,
Teddy.
You've re-ad Ham-let?"
"Only three ti-mes. I pre-fer The Tem-pest and A Mid-sum-mer Night's
Dre-am, myself. I was al-ways par-ti-al to Puck. He was a funny one."
"Damn non-sen-se," Carl sa-id. He sat his spo-on down and sta-red at his
half-full bowl of stew. "So, if you're right, Teddy, and the-re's an even
big-ger worm so-mew-he-re out the-re, then how do we fight it?"
"I don't know," I ad-mit-ted. "But I rec-kon we ought to start plan-ning
for it now. The Bib-le says Le-vi-at-han was big eno-ugh to swal-low Jonah
who-le, and from what you've told us, I'd say that's so. Just li-ke the worm
that swal-lo-wed Salty and Earl to-day. But as hu-ge as that thing was,
the-re's bo-und to be so-met-hing big-ger on the way. And I don't want to be
he-re when it shows up. The prob-lem is, I don't know whe-re we can go. We're
on top of the mo-un-ta-in. Everyt-hing be-low us is flo-oded. Only pla-ce
hig-her than he-re is the ran-ger sta-ti-on up on Bald Knob, and we don't know
what the si-tu-ati-on is the-re. It co-uld be wor-se than he-re. Tho-se worms
co-uld be all over the pla-ce-or wor-se than the ones he-re."
The ot-hers didn't ha-ve any ide-as, eit-her. Carl pic-ked his te-eth,
Sa-rah lo-oked at her bro-ken na-ils, and Ke-vin sta-red at the cof-fee mug in
his hands, the one with world's gre-atest grand-pa emb-la-zo-ned on it, that
the kids had got-ten me for Fat-her's Day fi-ve ye-ars ago.
After a mo-ment, I as-ked Sa-rah to con-ti-nue with her story, if only to
ta-ke our minds off the pre-sent si-tu-ati-on for a lit-tle whi-le.
"Well, li-ke I sa-id, we drif-ted on the raft for two days. No-ne of us
slept very much, and the salt in the air star-ted to blis-ter our skin and
lips. We we-re cold and wet and mi-se-rab-le, and we didn't ha-ve anyt-hing to
ke-ep the ra-in off of us ex-cept for our ra-in-co-ats, and all three of us
got sick. Salty de-ve-lo-ped a re-al-ly nasty co-ugh, de-ep down in-si-de his
chest. Ke-vin and I star-ted to worry that it might be pne-umo-nia. He
star-ted run-ning a fe-ver. Be-ca-me de-li-ri-o-us, bab-bling abo-ut Kra-kens
and sea gods and so-met-hing he cal-led the so-ul ca-ges. He sa-id they
exis-ted at the bot-tom of the sea, and held the so-uls of sa-ilors who'd
di-ed. He beg-ged us not to let him end up in one. Then, on the third day,
Corn well fo-und us."
"That's the fel-la who was pi-lo-ting the chop-per?" I as-ked,
re-mem-be-ring how the se-at-belt had cut him in-to three pi-eces.
"Yeah. He was a traf-fic re-por-ter for a te-le-vi-si-on sta-ti-on in
Pit-tsburgh.
He'd be-en flying from pla-ce to pla-ce, whe-re-ver he co-uld find fu-el
and dry land, mostly. Most he-li-cop-ters ne-ed to re-fu-el every two ho-urs,
but his was spe-ci-al-ly equ-ip-ped to stay in the air du-ring me-dia
emer-gen-ci-es.
It held eno-ugh fu-el for a fi-ve-ho-ur flight, and he had maps of every
fu-eling sta-ti-on along the East Co-ast."
"Is the-re much dry land left?" Carl as-ked.
"Mountaintop is-lands li-ke this," Sa-rah sa-id. "But that's abo-ut it."
I tri-ed pic-tu-ring our mo-un-ta-in as an is-land, se-en from abo-ve, and
fo-und that I co-uldn't.
Sarah con-ti-nu-ed. "Corn-well's brot-her, Si-mon, was with him. They
we-re lo-oking for fu-el when they spot-ted us in the wa-ter. By then, we'd
drif-ted far from any re-cog-ni-zab-le land-mark, but the-re we-re still
oc-ca-si-onal ro-of-tops or an-ten-nae stic-king up from the oce-an. We
pad-dled over to a wa-ter to-wer and clim-bed on top, and they ma-na-ged to
get the he-li-cop-ter in clo-se eno-ugh to pick us up."
Page 108
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Kevin grin-ned. "Re-mem-ber how Salty was sca-red of the ro-tors? He
tho-ught they'd cut our he-ads off."
"He cro-uc-hed down as low as he co-uld go," Sa-rah smi-led,
re-mem-be-ring,
"and scramb-led on-bo-ard. Turns out he was af-ra-id of flying. I think he
wo-uld ha-ve be-en hap-pi-er to stay on the raft. But him and Corn-well hit it
off, and pretty so-on he got over it. We was-ted a lot of fu-el, just flying
aro-und and lo-oking for sur-vi-vors, but Corn-well had the luck of the
de-vil, be-ca-use he kept fin-ding re-fu-eling sta-ti-ons that we-re still
abo-ve wa-ter. Even-tu-al-ly, we de-ci-ded to try for Nor-folk, Vir-gi-nia.
Obviously, the city wasn't the-re any-mo-re. It's go-ne, along with the
rest of the co-ast-li-ne. But Salty fi-gu-red that all of tho-se ships doc-ked
in Nor-folk and Lit-tle Cre-ek and York-town wo-uld ha-ve to go out to sea
when the wa-ter star-ted ri-sing. Ot-her-wi-se, they'd ha-ve be-en bas-hed
aga-inst the pi-ers. Now that the wa-ve thre-at was over, he tho-ught they'd
still be in the area. Salty sa-id that if we co-uld find an LPD or an LPH that
was still se-aworthy, we co-uld land on the-ir flight deck. May-be even a big
car-ri-er, li-ke the Co-ral Sea or the Ro-nald Re-agan. I gu-ess Corn-well
wasn't the best na-vi-ga-tor, be-ca-use we en-ded up way off co-ur-se.
Ins-te-ad of be-ing over Mary-land and Vir-gi-nia, we en-ded up in West
Vir-gi-nia. We we-re al-most out of fu-el and sup-pli-es when we fo-und a dry
spot on top of Cass Mo-un-ta-in."
"That's whe-re the Gre-en-bank Ob-ser-va-tory is," Carl sa-id. "We've
go-ne hun-ting up the-re a few ti-mes. Teddy's from the-re, ori-gi-nal-ly."
Sarah arc-hed her eyeb-rows in surp-ri-se. "Re-al-ly?"
"I was born in Gre-en-bank," I told them. "Li-ved the-re all my
child-ho-od, in a lit-tle Jen-ny Lynd type ho-use with a le-an-to kitc-hen. Of
co-ur-se, it's not the-re any-mo-re. The old ho-me pla-ce bur-ned down ye-ars
ago, and Gre-en-bank's a lot big-ger pla-ce the-se days. But it's ni-ce to
know that the town sur-vi-ved the flo-od and is still the-re."
Sarah scow-led. "No of-fen-se to yo-ur birthp-la-ce, but I wish it wasn't
the-re. We got stuck at the ob-ser-va-tory for two we-eks. The-re's this
we-ird cult that has ta-ken over the-re. They call them-sel-ves the B'nai
Elo-him. I think that me-ans 'di-vi-ne be-ings' in Heb-rew. At le-ast, that's
what the-ir le-ader sa-id. I tho-ught we'd left the cra-zi-es be-hind us, but
I was wrong.
They're everyw-he-re the-se days. The B'nai Elo-him we-ren't li-ke the
Sa-ta-nists back in Bal-ti-mo-re. They didn't wors-hip sea mons-ters. But they
we-re just as crazy."
"How so?" Carl as-ked.
"They be-li-eved that an ali-en ra-ce of su-pe-rin-tel-li-gent
ge-ne-ti-cists from outer spa-ce cre-ated hu-mans by fo-oling aro-und with
pri-ma-te DNA. And they in-sis-ted that flying sa-ucers we-re go-ing to land
at Gre-en-bank and res-cue them and that we co-uld go along for the ri-de. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]