it was, it had been pumped in a few times before, in small doses. Gas. She could taste it at the back of her throat, feel the nauseating sensations begin streaming through her. Kim knew it wouldn’t kill her. Hanover had no interest in that. It would send her into a terrible darkness, a nightmare place where her mind had no will. It was his way of wreaking a little revenge, and a lot of pain on her.
“Oh no,” she whispered, suddenly terrified in spite of her desire to be brave. “Oh Rock, Rock, where are you,” Kim whispered, suddenly unable to stand up any longer. She reached out and grabbed hold of some gold-threaded curtains. But they came down as she tumbled to the floor. And suddenly demons, demons of the mind, demons created from pure fear were everywhere around her as the fear-gas penetrated to her very soul.
Eleven
R ockson felt that he was falling down an endless tunnel. He was being scraped and gouged at from all sides by walls and sharp projections of stone. Somehow he stayed glued to the back of Snorter. The vertical fall became an 80° slope, then 70°. The flailing horse managed to kick and scamper almost right down the side of the opened earthquake fissure, half falling, half galloping. Rock could dimly sense the others just above and behind him. He didn’t know if they were still on their ’brids, and couldn’t look. Not when he was hanging on for dear life. Steam cascaded out all around him from cracks in the earth’s flesh. It was a fire-red world.
His breathing grew thick though he thanked God he had in the nose filters and the heat suit on. For it was getting hotter as they tumbled down slopes and banged along outcroppings for what seemed like a good thousand feet.
Rock’s mind worked feverishly as he fell. Perhaps the crevasse was some long hidden cavern. This couldn’t all be opening up now! It was too rounded, although rough around the edges. Each time it seemed like they could fall/stumble along no further, the ’brid was skidding down another impossible slope, raising up a bellowing storm.
Several times they rolled right over and Rockson felt the hybrid’s heavy weight bouncing over him. Then they tumbled more and the horse righted itself. He just kept being somewhat amazed that he was still alive, if numb with bruises.
Rock felt things scraping, ripping at his flesh and the hybrid’s too. Long gashes appeared here and there as they kept bouncing down like a golf ball in an endless hole. Rockson at last saw that the below ground was getting brighter. It was as if it were glowing pink below. He hit bottom hard, slamming off the mutant horse and rolled around on the hot ground. Rockson didn’t know where the hell he was for a second. It had all been like tumbling in a storm-tossed wave in the ocean. He was just a mixture of unconsciousness and sharp pain that struggled to claim him. He shook his head and lifted up.
He was lying in a black charcoal-like mixture, as if lying in the bottom of a fireplace. There were tunnels leading off everywhere, at least ten of them. And somehow he could see, even though he were far below the earth. Down one of the tunnels was the volcano itself. For it was white hot, brilliant, impossible to look right into. Not more than a quarter mile off was lava glowing like the furnaces of hell.
Suddenly Rock heard a frantic commotion and the rest of the Freefighters and their mounts came screaming down out of the dirt and stone skies. It was a mess. How all of them had not been ripped totally to shreds on the way down was a miracle in itself. But they slammed down into the black powdery ground all three still astride their ’brids. And all three flew off them. Right into the hardened lava walls that rose up around them like some dark fantasy world. Curved walls, with stalactites and stalagmites black as midnight poking out of everywhere like swords of the dead.
When it was all sorted out after several minutes, one of the ’brids was dead. Another had a
“Oh no,” she whispered, suddenly terrified in spite of her desire to be brave. “Oh Rock, Rock, where are you,” Kim whispered, suddenly unable to stand up any longer. She reached out and grabbed hold of some gold-threaded curtains. But they came down as she tumbled to the floor. And suddenly demons, demons of the mind, demons created from pure fear were everywhere around her as the fear-gas penetrated to her very soul.
Eleven
R ockson felt that he was falling down an endless tunnel. He was being scraped and gouged at from all sides by walls and sharp projections of stone. Somehow he stayed glued to the back of Snorter. The vertical fall became an 80° slope, then 70°. The flailing horse managed to kick and scamper almost right down the side of the opened earthquake fissure, half falling, half galloping. Rock could dimly sense the others just above and behind him. He didn’t know if they were still on their ’brids, and couldn’t look. Not when he was hanging on for dear life. Steam cascaded out all around him from cracks in the earth’s flesh. It was a fire-red world.
His breathing grew thick though he thanked God he had in the nose filters and the heat suit on. For it was getting hotter as they tumbled down slopes and banged along outcroppings for what seemed like a good thousand feet.
Rock’s mind worked feverishly as he fell. Perhaps the crevasse was some long hidden cavern. This couldn’t all be opening up now! It was too rounded, although rough around the edges. Each time it seemed like they could fall/stumble along no further, the ’brid was skidding down another impossible slope, raising up a bellowing storm.
Several times they rolled right over and Rockson felt the hybrid’s heavy weight bouncing over him. Then they tumbled more and the horse righted itself. He just kept being somewhat amazed that he was still alive, if numb with bruises.
Rock felt things scraping, ripping at his flesh and the hybrid’s too. Long gashes appeared here and there as they kept bouncing down like a golf ball in an endless hole. Rockson at last saw that the below ground was getting brighter. It was as if it were glowing pink below. He hit bottom hard, slamming off the mutant horse and rolled around on the hot ground. Rockson didn’t know where the hell he was for a second. It had all been like tumbling in a storm-tossed wave in the ocean. He was just a mixture of unconsciousness and sharp pain that struggled to claim him. He shook his head and lifted up.
He was lying in a black charcoal-like mixture, as if lying in the bottom of a fireplace. There were tunnels leading off everywhere, at least ten of them. And somehow he could see, even though he were far below the earth. Down one of the tunnels was the volcano itself. For it was white hot, brilliant, impossible to look right into. Not more than a quarter mile off was lava glowing like the furnaces of hell.
Suddenly Rock heard a frantic commotion and the rest of the Freefighters and their mounts came screaming down out of the dirt and stone skies. It was a mess. How all of them had not been ripped totally to shreds on the way down was a miracle in itself. But they slammed down into the black powdery ground all three still astride their ’brids. And all three flew off them. Right into the hardened lava walls that rose up around them like some dark fantasy world. Curved walls, with stalactites and stalagmites black as midnight poking out of everywhere like swords of the dead.
When it was all sorted out after several minutes, one of the ’brids was dead. Another had a
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