The Awakening by Jerry Ahern

Author:Jerry Ahern [Ahern, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: _p
Publisher: Jerry Ahern
Published: 2012-03-30T06:26:17+00:00

Chapter Thirty-One

He had lost count of the hours, and realized he had lost count of the days. The cattle prods they had used-

his body ached as he moved. He had been away from the Retreat-how many days? He shook his head to

clear it, dismissing the question until a later time.

Cautiously, before assessing his surroundings, he felt under his shirt beside his left hipbone. The

revolver-it was still there. As he sat upright, his back screaming at him with the pain, he felt inside his left

sock-the A.G. Russell knife was still there.

Michael Rourke looked up, unable to keep the smile that he felt coming from etching across his face. He was

alive. He was armed. He assessed his surroundings as, with difficulty, he stood. An ordinary-seeming room,

but there were no windows. A door-it seemed made of metal. He approached it, about to touch it to

confirm-but he stepped back. With their penchant for electricity, he was uncertain. He looked upward-

there seemed to be no observation cameras in evidence, no microphones. Perhaps the room-almost a khaki

color for walls, ceiling and the linoleum-covered floor-was just that, a room. Nothing more.

Perhaps too they expected him to walk out of it. He licked his lips, reaching down to his sock, removing the

Sting IA. Gently, he tossed the all-steel knife against the door. It clattered to the floor. There was no

evidence of electricity. He picked up the knife, stepping back from the door again.

He threw the knife-gently, again-this time the knife bouncing against the doorknob, sparks of electricity

sputtering into the air. Michael Rourke stepped back.

After a long moment, he picked up his knife. Quickly, he resheathed it, concealing it, then dropped to the

floor. He began to unlace his right combat boot. His father had told him the story of the last seconds before

fire had engulfed the planet, of the climb to the top of the mountain which held the Retreat, of using the

double magazine pouch like a heavy leather glove to insulate his hand. The boot off now, Michael placed

his right hand inside it, flexing the leather so he could grip with it.

He thought suddenly of Madison. If they had killed her, he would kill them-it was very simple, very logical.

He remembered, as they had lain together after discovering each other, she had asked him what the white

flakes which fell from the sky had been and he had explained the crystalline structures which when examined

were never at all like any other. He had explained that some had theorized that perhaps as they fell, the flakes

may indeed have fallen into certain patterns and that the infinite variety came about from the constant

melting and refreezing they underwent as they passed through different temperature layers, or fell upon the

warm ground to partially melt and then refreeze. She had stopped him, laughing, telling him that she thought

they made his hair and his eyebrows look pretty. What did one call them, she had asked. Snow, he had told

her. And she had repeated the word several times.

He approached the doorknob-he’d free her somehow, he told himself.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.