Read Online Ice and Fire: Chung Kuo Series by David Wingrove - Free Book Online Page B

in an instant, its body cooking to a dark
     cinder.
    Ben watched a moment, conscious of his own fascination; his ears filled with the brutal
     music of the grid – the crack and pop and sizzle of the dying creatures, his eyes
     drawn to each
     brief, sudden incandescence. And in his mind he formed a pattern of their vivid after-images
     against the dull mauve light.
    ‘Come, Ben. Come inside.’
    He turned. His mother was standing in the doorway, beckoning to him. He smiled then
     sniffed the air. It was filled with the tart, sweet scent of ozone and burnt insects.
    ‘I was watching.’
    ‘I know.’ She came across to him and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘It’s horrible,
     isn’t it? But necessary, I suppose.’
    ‘Yes.’
    But he meant something other by the word: something more than simple agreement. It
     was both horrible and necessary, if only to prevent the spread of the disease throughout
     the Domain; but it was
     just that – the horrible necessity of death – that gave it its fascination.
Is all of life just that?
he asked himself, looking away from the grid, out across the dark, moonlit
     water of the bay.
Is it all merely one brief erratic flight into the burning light? And then nothing?
    Ben shivered, not from fear or cold, but from some deeper, more complex response,
     then turned and looked up at his mother, smiling. ‘Okay. Let’s go inside.’
    The captain of the work party watched the woman and her son go in, then signalled
     to his men to complete the sealing-off of the cottage. It was nothing to him, of course
     – orders were orders – yet it had occurred to him several times that it would have
     been far simpler to evacuate the Shepherds than go through with all this nonsense.
     He could not for
     the life of him understand why they should wish to remain inside the cottage while
     the Domain was dusted with poisons. Still, he had to admit, it was a neat job. Old
     man Amos had known what he was
     up to.
    He walked across and inspected the work thoroughly. Then, satisfied that the seal
     was airtight, he pulled the lip-mike up from under his chin. ‘Okay. We’re finished
     here. You can
     start the sweep.’
    Six miles away, at the mouth of the estuary, the four big transporters, converted
     specially for the task, lifted one by one from the pad and began to form up in a line
     across the river. Then, at
     a signal, they began, moving slowly down the estuary, a thin cloud – colourless, like
     fine powdered snow – drifting down behind them.
    Chapter 37
    AUGUSTUS
    I t was just after ten in the morning, yet the sun already blazed down from a vast,
     deep blue sky that seemed washed clean of all impurities.
     Sunlight burnished the surface of the grey-green water, making it seem dense and yet
     clear, like melted glass. The tide was high but on the turn, lapping sluggishly against
     the rocks at the
     river’s edge.
    In midstream Meg let Ben take the oars from her, changing seats with him nimbly as
     the boat drifted slowly about. Then she sat back, watching him as he strove to right
     their course, his face a
     mask of patient determination, the muscles of his bare, tanned arms tensing and untensing.
     Ben clenched his teeth then pulled hard on the right-hand oar, turning the prow slowly
     towards the distant
     house, the dark, slick-edged blade biting deep into the glaucous, muscular flow as
     he hauled the boat about in a tight arc.
    ‘Are you sure it’s all right?’
    Ben grimaced, concentrating, inwardly weighing the feel of the boat against the strong
     pull of the current. ‘She’ll never know,’ he answered. ‘Who’ll tell
     her?’
    It wasn’t a threat. He knew he could trust her to say nothing to their mother. Meg
     looked down briefly, smiling, pleased that he trusted her. Then she sat there, quiet,
     content to watch
     him, to see the broad river stretching away beyond him, the white-painted cottages
     of the village dotted against the broad green flank of the hill,