Project Ark by MacDonald John & Frelich Lee

Author:MacDonald, John & Frelich, Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sequoia Press
Published: 2017-01-06T16:00:00+00:00

“Breathe! Come on, BREATHE! Don’t you do this, damn you! Breathe!”

She paused to take a few breaths through her rebreather, then continued the procedure until Costello’s body suddenly erupted into spasms. The man gasped for air; Isabelle held down his flailing limbs.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay.” She spotted the man’s rebreather lying in the sand a few yards away and fetched it, then fastened it in place over his face.

“Can you hear me, Dr. Costello? Breathe slowly. You’re going to be okay.”

The man stared at her uncomprehendingly, then slowly nodded. Alive—barely.

As she collapsed in a sort of panicked relief, she suddenly felt two thick hands on her shoulders. She screamed as she was thrown sideways to the ground. The man—where had he come from?—seized her handbag, giving her an opportunity to jab him in the face with her elbow. A desert rat!

Surprised by her competent blow, the rat was knocked back momentarily, but as she tried to scurry away he grabbed her leg, ripped the rebreather from her face, and stuffed it into his own bag.

Now he was sitting on top of her, pulling things out of the bag—dehydrated food pouches, a water bottle, a scarf. She struggled to free herself of his massive weight when she suddenly felt a blast of electricity race through her body. An instant later the man collapsed in a heap.

Isabelle, stunned once again by the swift turn of events, pushed the rat’s suddenly inert body off her and pulled herself to a sitting position. Michael Costello was standing nearby on wobbly legs, weapon in hand.

“Is he …?” She coughed, finding it difficult to breathe.

“He’s just knocked out. I didn’t want to risk doing too much damage to you. He probably has friends close by.”

Isabelle retrieved her rebreather from the rat’s bag, then moved to take the food and water, hesitated, then decided to leave them where they were. Michael had settled back down against a slab of concrete.

He said, “That’s nearly a day’s rations.”

“I’ll be given more tomorrow. He won’t. Can you walk?”

Michael nodded but made no attempt to move. He was breathing slowly, and seemed to be enjoying every breath.

“He’s just a rat,” he said.

“So, he had a run of bad luck somewhere. It could happen to anyone. Once you’re out, it’s not easy to get back in.”

Isabelle rose to her feet and offered Michael a hand. “Here, lean on me,” she said. She got him up on his feet, put his arm around her neck, and started back toward the portal. By the time they reached it, it had begun to rain.

An hour later they were back at Isabelle’s apartment, nearer the former waterfront. Michael was sprawled on the couch, still somewhat numb, as if suffering from heat stroke, but feeling slightly better. Isabelle had already given him several glasses of water, and now that it was past midnight she brought him another one, making a slight dent in her next day’s ration. Before returning to the living room with the glass she added a few drops of a tincture to the water.

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