Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

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support. There was no smell, no stench of death or decay. It was too cold for that.
    Owen and Hazel moved reluctantly forward, the cold air searing their lungs painfully as they breathed it.
    The nearest body was a woman, dressed in torn peasant’s clothing, charred and blackened around the energy-weapon wounds that had killed her. Her face was a mess. Half of it was missing. Owen reached out a hand toward her and then hesitated. His hand was trembling, and not from the cold.
    “If she’s as cold as I think she is, you could get frostbite just by touching her,” said Hazel.
    “Not to worry,” said Owen. “I used to know a lot of women like that at Court.” He shook his head slowly. “I thought I’d seen everything. Thought I’d seen so much death and suffering that this wouldn’t mean anything to me. But I was wrong.”
    “When you stop feeling anything,” said Hazel, “it’ll mean part of you has died too. The human part. But
    as bad as you feel, you’re still going to do this, aren’t you?”
    “Of course. It’s necessary. He murdered my world.”
    Owen drew his disrupter, aimed it at the packed bodies before him, and fired. The energy beam tore a path through the frozen dead, creating a tunnel into the mass of bodies some three feet wide. It looked like some monstrous worm or maggot had eaten its way through the dead on its way to some unknown, awful destination. Owen put away his disrupter and turned to Hazel. “We’ll move through the tunnel for as far as it goes, and then you’ll have to pull bodies in behind us to cover our tracks. The extra space I’ve created will give us room to maneuver at the end of the tunnel.” Hazel looked at him for a moment.
    “Nothing’s going to stop you, is it, Deathstalker?”
    “No. I know this is difficult for you, Hazel, but… I need you. Do it for me.”
    “All right. For you. But you’re going to owe me one hell of a favor afterward.” She scowled at the tunnel. “It’s going to be dark, once we’re… inside the mass of bodies. How will we know where we’re going?” “I know where the hidden door is,” said Owen. “I can feel it in my mind. All you have to do is follow me. Don’t worry. It’s not like there’s any chance of you getting lost in there. Let’s go.”
    And he turned away from her and stepped into the chamber of the dead. The utter cold cut into him like a knife, and he shuddered so hard his teeth chattered in his head. The frozen air burned in his throat and lungs, like swallowing razor blades. Hoarfrost formed immediately on his hair and eyelids, and his eyes ached as the cold began freezing the liquid in his eyeballs. He blinked hard, gritted his teeth, and knelt down to fit himself into the tunnel he’d made. Even with his disrupter set on full, wide dispersal, it hadn’t been able to produce a very wide tunnel. He’d have to crawl through it on hands and knees. His knees jarred on the frozen bodies, frozen hard as concrete. Some had been cut open by the energy beam as neatly as a surgeon’s knife, revealing hard, frozen innards. They were mostly gray, with a few pale shades of pink or purple, even the vitality of color leached out of them by the dreadful cold. Owen shuffled forward, reaching out with his hands to grab the bodies ahead and pull himself along. The dead flesh was so cold it burned his bare hands. Every instinct yelled at him to let go immediately, but he refused to listen. He tightened his grip and pulled himself on. When he did try to let go, his warm flesh clung stickily to the cold, and he had to use all his strength to pull free. He left patches of skin behind, but felt no pain.
    Owen refused to let it upset him. The skin would grow back, and it would happen less and less as his hands cooled. Already his body was adapting to the horrid cold, his core temperature plummeting at a speed that would have killed anyone else. He had no sensation left anywhere, and his eyes were stuck open, but he’d stopped

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