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of the signs of withdrawal was the feeling of invincibility, followed closely by psychosis,
hallucinations pretty much what Thrower was going through. Well, there was no way she
was going to risk her life for a family-killing, psychotic prisoner.
 Smile for the flash, she said, and squeezed the phaser trigger just as Yeum leaped
towards her.
The tunnel shook with the force of a tremendous quake. Dirt rained down,
momentarily blinding her, and then a force hit her on the back of the head. A brutal force that
made her see stars and threw her forward at Yeum, who howled triumphantly and reached for
her.
Even as she threw out one fist in instinct, a chunk of rock flew from the wall behind her
and thumped her in the back of the head. Knocked unconscious, she dropped to the floor, the
phaser skittering from her hand to land at the prisoner s feet.
*****
Groggily, feeling so sick he wanted to vomit his guts up, Thrower opened his eyes.
First he heard voices, and then he felt the huge quake.
Instantly he rolled to his feet, the sickness temporally forgotten, and his gaze fell on
Isles as she was thrown forward from the blast. In front of her was a prisoner in a yellow
overall, and he howled and reached for her, stumbling across the earth as it shook beneath
him.
Fear for Isles, and a primal urge of protectiveness, made Thrower push forward as Isles
threw out one fist in a very cock-eyed punch, and then horror filtered through him as a chunk
Angela Verdenius 81
of rock, dislodged from the wall, flew straight out and hit her on the back of the head. She
dropped to the floor like a stone.
Not waiting, Thrower lunged forward just as the prisoner reached down for the phaser
that had clattered to a halt at his feet. Catching the prisoner around the waist, he brought him
down to the ground.
The prisoner was crazy all right. Frothing at the mouth and howling, he tried to bite
Thrower, then claw at his face.
Rage bubbled up inside Thrower, and he felt like ripping off the prisoner s face. Fury
tore through him, blinding him to everything but the need to kill, he rolled so that he was on
top of the prisoner. Grabbing him by the ears, he smashed his head down on the rocks that
littered the floor. Over and over he smashed the head down, until blood spattered the dirt
along with bits of brain matter.
When it finally registered that his enemy was dead, Thrower drew back onto his knees
and wiped his bloody hand across his mouth.
The taste was bitter, like iron, and salty. It made his gorge rise, and along with it came
rising sanity, which pushed the darkness back. Leaning over to the side, he vomited what
little he had left in his stomach.
It took awhile before he had the retching under control, and when he finally did, he
crawled over to where Isles lay still on the floor.
 Isles? He reached out and gently touch her head, his hand shaking with the fear that
she might be dead.  Isles?
She was breathing, he saw with relief. Long, slow, shallow breaths. Did she have
concussion? He lay his hand gingerly on her head, and immediately felt the wetness.
Drawing back his hand, he saw fresh blood on his fingertips.
 Oh God, Isles! Feverishly, he looked around, spotting the fallen torch in the dirt
nearby, he scrambled over to it, picked it up and returned to her side.
Flicking the switch, he shone the light on her head. Gently, he moved the thick hair
aside to show a rising bump. The skin across it was split, but it didn t appear too bad. The
bleeding wasn t heavy, and all head wounds bled anyway, right?
He had no way to staunch the blood, so biting his lip in silent apology, he pressed his
sleeve against the wound.
She groaned but didn t move.
After several minutes, he lifted his sleeve and saw that the bleeding had stopped.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Thrower took the pouch containing the water and dried fruit off her
back, then carefully turned Isles over, cradling her head in his hands.
The skin that managed to show between the dirt on her face was pale. Her breathing
was still slow and deep.
Concussion?
Thrower looked around. They were in a shaft or tunnel or whatever the hell it was
called. It was dimly lit, and he saw the opening in the floor where the cable snaked down. He
wasn t sure where they were, but so far, there was no other threat. No other prisoners& [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]