Pokrewne

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CONAN 01 Conan Robert E. Howard
Bourne Trilogy 2 The Bourne S Ludlum Robert
CONAN 30 Conan niszczyciel Robert E. Howard
CONAN 27 Conan z Czerwonego B Robert E. Howard
CONAN 52 Conan nieposkromiony Robert E. Howard
CONAN 23 Conan obronca Robert E. Howard
CONAN 20 Conan z Aquilonii Robert E. Howard
CONAN 33 Conan wielki Robert E. Howard
CONAN 67 Conan i noce Szadiza Robert E. Howard
[heft] Perry Rhodan 1512 Der heimliche Rebell

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.She had asked in her will to be rekindled; they took her away in a black van to work their tragic on her corpse.The casket, retreating on their broad shoulders, seemed to Klein to be disappearing into a throbbing gray vortex that he was helpless to penetrate.Presumably he would never hear from her again.In those days the deads kept strictly to themselves, sequestered behind the walls of their self-imposed ghettos; it was rare ever to see one outside the Cold Towns, rare even for one of them to make oblique contact with the world of the living.So a redefinition of their relationship was forced on him.For nine years it had been Jorge and Sybille, Sybille and Jorge, I and thou forming we, above all we, a transcendental we.He had loved her with almost painful intensity.In life they had gone everywhere together, had done everything together, shared research tasks and classroom assignments, thought interchangeable thoughts, expressed tastes that were nearly always identical, so completely had each permeated the other.She was a part of him, he of her, and until the moment of her unexpected death he had assumed it would be like that forever.They were still young, he 38, she 34, decades to look forward to.Then she was gone.And now they were mere anonymities to one another, she not Sybille but only a dead, he not Jorge but only a warm.She was somewhere on the North American continent, walking about, talking, eating, reading, and yet she was gone, lost to him, and it behooved him to accept the alteration in his life, and outwardly he did accept it, but yet, though he knew he could never again have things as they once had been, he allowed himself the indulgence of a lingering wistful hope of regaining her.Shortly the plane was in view, dark against the brightness of the sky, a suspended mote, an irritating fleck in Barwani's eye, growing larger, causing him to blink and sneeze.Barwani was not ready for it.When Ameri Kombo, the flight controller in the cubicle next door, phoned him with the landing, Barwani replied, "Notify the pilot that no one is to debark until I have given clearance.I must consult the regulations.There is possibly a peril to public health." For twenty minutes he let the plane sit, all hatches sealed, on the quiet runway.Wandering goats emerged from the shrubbery and inspected it.Barwani consulted no regulations.He finished his modest meal; then he folded his arms and sought to attain the proper state of tranquility.These deads, he told himself, could do no harm.They were people like all other people, except that they had undergone extraordinary medical treatment.He must overcome his superstitious fear of them: he was no peasant, no silly clove picker, nor was Zanzibar an abode of primitives.He would admit them, he would give them their anti-malaria tablets as though they were ordinary tourists, he would send them on their way.Very well.Now he was ready.He phoned Ameri Kombo."There is no danger," he said."The passengers may exit."There were nine altogether, a sparse load.The four warms emerged first, looking somber and little congealed, like peoplewho had had to travel with a party of uncaged cobras.Barwani knew them all: the German consul's wife, the merchant Chowdhary's son, and two Chinese engineers, all returning from brief holidays in Dar.He waved them through the gate without formalities.Then came the deads, after an interval of half a minute: probably they had been sitting together at one end of the nearly empty plane and the others had been at the other.There were two women, three men, all of them tall and surprisingly robust-looking.He had expected them to shamble, to shuffle, to limp, to falter, but they moved with aggressive strides, as if they were in better health now than when they had been alive.When they reached the gate Barwani stepped forward to greet them, saying softly, "Health regulations, come this way, kindly." They were breathing, undoubtedly breathing: he tasted an emanation of liquor from the big red-haired man, a mysterious and pleasant sweet flavor, perhaps anise, from the dark-haired woman [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]