Read Online Behold a Dark Mirror by Theophilus Axxe - Free Book Online
Authors: Theophilus Axxe
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to the safe house. I must tell him, maybe he'll live longer if he stays here. Another soul on my conscience. Oh my Lord, I'm weary of this, she thought and looked at the clock. I'll be up all night.
Hours zoomed by too fast. Kebe reckoned Nero was so busy with his hardware, he didn't even try to keep in touch. She reached for the radio he had given her.
"Nero, this is Kebe calling. It's lonely here. What's up? Over." She waited. No answer; she repeated her call. Kebe guessed Nero was away from the box, his hands dirty, his head under a hood–better leave him alone.
The squelch had just closed when Kebe felt her hair stand on end. She dropped the workpad, which clanked on the table. She raised her head and turned. A green Cheshire floated one meter behind her back. Kebe drew a hand to her mouth, standing, facing the creature.
"He... Hello," she said, taking a step sideways gaining clearance to move.
They're weird, but they're no harm. No harm, she thought.
The Cheshire was an indefinite shape with approximate edges looking like an optical illusion. She giggled.
Can't. Breathe. No. Air. No. Light.
The room had disappeared, cloaked in darkness. Her diaphragm cramped. Kebe started raising her hands to reach her throat and eyes. At shoulder height her fingers met molasses and started shivering with electric shocks. Probing around in a panic she found her head wrapped in a gooey lump. The painful electrical feeling in her fingers was spreading to arms and shoulders.
Numb from the pain, she tore at the goo, swinging against the furniture, against the wall of the trailer, desperate to break loose and oblivious to the mayhem outside her airless universe. The attempt to rip the blob around her head now ripped instead her own nerves with stabs hurting like burns, intolerable even to escape death. Her fingers couldn't take hold, couldn't grip. Her lungs ached in suffocation.
All strength exhausted, her knees yielded. She collapsed on the floor, consciousness fading, resistance waning into feeble fits. As awareness succumbed to oblivion, an image exploded in her mind brighter than a magnesium flare. At the impact her body shuddered in a fitful jerk: Nero in the hangar.
Suddenly, air burned down her lungs.
Kebe hissed, drawing her hands to her throat without realizing her cage was gone. She lay on the floor, twitching.
Nero in the hangar.
Her eyes blinked without seeing. Her chest pumped up and down: air. More air!
Nero on the floor in the hangar.
While she was convulsing, her head hit a sharp corner, stabbing semi-conscious senses with a jab of pain. Her eyes opened, seeing.
Nero bleeding on the floor in the hangar.
She tried to sit up. A man lying on his back on a concrete floor, a trickle of blood under his head, burned her retina. She rose, her legs unsteady. Grabbing the table, leaning on the furniture, Kebe moved to the sink, opened the water, stuck her head under the stream.
Nero needs help.
She gulped once, twice, more. Staggering to the table, Kebe sank onto a chair, head and torso collapsing to the flat surface. Inhaling was a violent pleasure. Death had been close to her in the past, but never so close physically. Her body had a harder time recovering than her psyche. She was trembling, not from fear now, but from shock. That burning after-image was there each time she closed her eyes.
No harm. Not dangerous. Cheshire from Hell, Kebe thought, still incapable of yelling.
As soon as she was strong enough she rummaged through her satchel for the microwave gun and holster, which she donned. She adjusted the gun to high and fought the lust to test it on the furniture.
She tried the radio: "Nero, do you copy? Over." "Can you hear me? Nero, I need to talk to you. Over."
"Now, how do I get to the hangar?" she asked the wall.
CHAPTER 7
Jenus and Janet, mildly drunk, walked back towards their
Hours zoomed by too fast. Kebe reckoned Nero was so busy with his hardware, he didn't even try to keep in touch. She reached for the radio he had given her.
"Nero, this is Kebe calling. It's lonely here. What's up? Over." She waited. No answer; she repeated her call. Kebe guessed Nero was away from the box, his hands dirty, his head under a hood–better leave him alone.
The squelch had just closed when Kebe felt her hair stand on end. She dropped the workpad, which clanked on the table. She raised her head and turned. A green Cheshire floated one meter behind her back. Kebe drew a hand to her mouth, standing, facing the creature.
"He... Hello," she said, taking a step sideways gaining clearance to move.
They're weird, but they're no harm. No harm, she thought.
The Cheshire was an indefinite shape with approximate edges looking like an optical illusion. She giggled.
Can't. Breathe. No. Air. No. Light.
The room had disappeared, cloaked in darkness. Her diaphragm cramped. Kebe started raising her hands to reach her throat and eyes. At shoulder height her fingers met molasses and started shivering with electric shocks. Probing around in a panic she found her head wrapped in a gooey lump. The painful electrical feeling in her fingers was spreading to arms and shoulders.
Numb from the pain, she tore at the goo, swinging against the furniture, against the wall of the trailer, desperate to break loose and oblivious to the mayhem outside her airless universe. The attempt to rip the blob around her head now ripped instead her own nerves with stabs hurting like burns, intolerable even to escape death. Her fingers couldn't take hold, couldn't grip. Her lungs ached in suffocation.
All strength exhausted, her knees yielded. She collapsed on the floor, consciousness fading, resistance waning into feeble fits. As awareness succumbed to oblivion, an image exploded in her mind brighter than a magnesium flare. At the impact her body shuddered in a fitful jerk: Nero in the hangar.
Suddenly, air burned down her lungs.
Kebe hissed, drawing her hands to her throat without realizing her cage was gone. She lay on the floor, twitching.
Nero in the hangar.
Her eyes blinked without seeing. Her chest pumped up and down: air. More air!
Nero on the floor in the hangar.
While she was convulsing, her head hit a sharp corner, stabbing semi-conscious senses with a jab of pain. Her eyes opened, seeing.
Nero bleeding on the floor in the hangar.
She tried to sit up. A man lying on his back on a concrete floor, a trickle of blood under his head, burned her retina. She rose, her legs unsteady. Grabbing the table, leaning on the furniture, Kebe moved to the sink, opened the water, stuck her head under the stream.
Nero needs help.
She gulped once, twice, more. Staggering to the table, Kebe sank onto a chair, head and torso collapsing to the flat surface. Inhaling was a violent pleasure. Death had been close to her in the past, but never so close physically. Her body had a harder time recovering than her psyche. She was trembling, not from fear now, but from shock. That burning after-image was there each time she closed her eyes.
No harm. Not dangerous. Cheshire from Hell, Kebe thought, still incapable of yelling.
As soon as she was strong enough she rummaged through her satchel for the microwave gun and holster, which she donned. She adjusted the gun to high and fought the lust to test it on the furniture.
She tried the radio: "Nero, do you copy? Over." "Can you hear me? Nero, I need to talk to you. Over."
"Now, how do I get to the hangar?" she asked the wall.
CHAPTER 7
Jenus and Janet, mildly drunk, walked back towards their
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