Stones (Data) by Whaler Jacob

Author:Whaler, Jacob [Whaler, Jacob]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub
Publisher: Jacob Whaler
Published: 2013-08-21T18:30:00+00:00

CHAPTER 53

Matt slowly opens his eyes to see a blurred pattern of white octagons and blue diamonds.

Professor Yamamoto’s office.

With effort, he raises his gaze from the floor to look up. There is a pool of warm saliva that has run out of his mouth. Painful little prickles, like bee-stings, stab him from the inside in a thousand places on his neck, face and eyes. He tries to bring his hands up and push himself over, but discovers neither of his arms will move. They feel like heavy slabs of concrete running down his sides. The legs are the same, with no feeling in either one of them.

He’s lying on the floor like a beached whale.

“Your muscles are taking a bit of a rest. Tetrodotoxin.” A male voice behind him speaks. “Extracted from the blue-ringed octopus. Nasty little creatures. Fortunately, they only fight back when provoked.”

Matt remembers that he saw Jessica. “Where is she?” He yells between clenched teeth. With his head balanced precariously above the floor, he struggles to focus his eyes forward trying to get a fix on his position. Multiple-colored rectangles hang in the air. After several seconds of staring, he realizes it’s the bookshelf at the far end of Yamamoto’s office, and he’s facing it with his back to the door. The spine of the book directly in front of his eyes slowing resolves itself. Aristotle’s Metaphysics. There is a gap next to it where The Complete Works of Shakespeare should be.

“Are you referring to Jessica?”

It’s the same voice, one with a vaguely European accent, difficult to place.

“Who are you?” Anger mixes with panic, and the anger is quickly taking over. “What do you want?” He yells through a clenched jaw.

“So many questions, my young friend. You need to slow down and focus on what is going on around you.”

Footsteps approach him from behind and foul breath rains down. Two strong hands grab his shoulders, pull him off the floor and stuff him into a chair. Another set of hands throws a strap around his midsection and lashes him into place. He senses his ankles are being tied to the legs of the chair. Together, they swing him and the chair around so he’s facing the door. Sitting upright.

The jarring movements feel like someone is twisting his optic nerves into a knot. Sharp prickles stab the inside of his eyeball without mercy as he tries to focus his vision.

The game of Igo lies in disarray on the table with black and white pieces scattered on the floor. Matt’s jax is next to the goban board. The same two Yakuza thugs from his dorm room stand by the door, their faces made of stone and arms folded across their chests.

A tall man with silver hair in a tweed jacket and bowtie stands in the center of the room next to the table, a sympathetic smile on his face.

That face.

Matt stares in disbelief. He recognizes the features.

And then it hits him. His mind goes back to the dream.

Massive dark apes chase him through the jungle and across the wheat field.

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