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perfectly placed for defense against any attackers. "But Tennessee was one of the states hardest hit by the
earth shifts after the nuking. We've seen that already. Volcanoes and swamps. So a new river isn't much
of a surprise."
"There's the viewing point that the guard mentioned," J.B. said.
It was a reinforced platform of concrete tied in with steel girders to the bedrock at the top of the cliffs.
Ryan noticed that much of the stone all around the ville seemed oddly raw, as if it had been buried for
eons of time and had only been pushed out into daylight a hundred or so years earlier. The sides of the
gorge down to the foaming ribbon of the river, several hundred feet below, were also fresh looking, with
streaks of light stone among the darker gray.
Jak was hanging on to a wire fence that had been built around the edge of the platform, staring down into
the deeps. "Can't dive straight into the river. Slopes away steep, then drops sheer for last hundred feet or
so."
They all joined him, and Doc whistled softly between his excellent teeth. "Upon my soul, but that is a fine
spectacle. To view it gives an odd tightening of the scrotum, if you will pardon my language, ladies."
Mildred tutted. "Keep your tight scrotum to yourself, will you, Doc?"
"But you know that feeling of part thrill and part primitive, atavistic terror of heights, madam. To go over
there is to die, without a doubt."
Jak was swinging back and forth on the flimsy fence, oblivious to the fact that some of its base fastenings
had come loose and it was only hanging in place by a few rusting pins. "If dived clean down be all right.
Straight into river. Long as no shallows or rocks."
The Armorer was fanning himself with his hat, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Quite
wrong, Jak."
"How?"
J.B. sniffed. "I saw a mag article once about high divers. Seems there's an optimum height, no matter how
skillful you are, where your momentum gathers and you accelerate until hitting water's like hitting a sheet
of marble."
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"Thirty-two feet per second, per second," Mildred said. "One of the few facts I recall from high school
physics. Rate of acceleration. Means in the first second you fall thirty-two feet. Sixty-four feet the next
second. Ninety-six in the third second. And so on and on, faster and faster, until you reach maximum
speed, whatever that is."
Krysty threw back her head, letting the strong breeze blow through her flaming hair. "I read that high
divers also got punchy after a bit, because of the repeated damage to their brain. So keep away from the
edge, Jak."
The teenager looked at the others, as if he wondered if he were being teased. He decided he wasn't and
moved back a couple of paces from the brink.
"You all right, Doc?" Mildred asked, seeing that the old man was looking a little pale and had moved
back out of the sun to sit on a shelf of shaded rock.
He was holding his stomach, biting his lip. "I believe it is just a passing attack of dyspepsia, thank you,
Doctor. But rather sharp, I must confess."
"Maybe we should get back to the house, so you can have a rest. Put your feet up. Ryan?"
"Yeah, sure."
But the sight of the misty river, raging through the deep gorge, was hypnotic. The sensation drawing him
toward it was strangely powerful and brought back to him the mesmeric powers of Straub.
He tore himself away from the platform, and they made their way back to the ville, Doc occasionally
rubbing at his stomach while assuring them that he was feeling fine.
Ryan walked with J.B. and Krysty. "What do you make of Straub?" he asked.
"Mad and bad all the way through, lover. He glories in what that bitch's done to him. Like it was some
sort of sick honor. Still wouldn't trust him as far as I could spit."
"J.B.?"
"Man's got a brain like a cunning, rabid rat. My guess is that he's got himself caught by someone as
devious and power crazed as him. Now he's settling himself inside her nest. Become a councilor to her so
she'll need him and trust him." The Armorer was polishing his glasses as they walked by the pool. A
dragonfly, better than a foot in length, floated by them, a poem in iridescent turquoise and aquamarine.
"And one day the Countess Katya Beausoleil gets to wake up dead."
Ryan paused to look at a gigantic carp, rainbow scaled, as it broke the surface of the pond to snap at a
skimming water boatman. "Yeah," he said. "Like we think along the same lines. Wish he'd tell us the truth
about Trader. Probably the only way we'll ever know how that final curtain came down."
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THE HOUSE HAD A wonderful library, and it was a pleasure for the companions to spend some time [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
perfectly placed for defense against any attackers. "But Tennessee was one of the states hardest hit by the
earth shifts after the nuking. We've seen that already. Volcanoes and swamps. So a new river isn't much
of a surprise."
"There's the viewing point that the guard mentioned," J.B. said.
It was a reinforced platform of concrete tied in with steel girders to the bedrock at the top of the cliffs.
Ryan noticed that much of the stone all around the ville seemed oddly raw, as if it had been buried for
eons of time and had only been pushed out into daylight a hundred or so years earlier. The sides of the
gorge down to the foaming ribbon of the river, several hundred feet below, were also fresh looking, with
streaks of light stone among the darker gray.
Jak was hanging on to a wire fence that had been built around the edge of the platform, staring down into
the deeps. "Can't dive straight into the river. Slopes away steep, then drops sheer for last hundred feet or
so."
They all joined him, and Doc whistled softly between his excellent teeth. "Upon my soul, but that is a fine
spectacle. To view it gives an odd tightening of the scrotum, if you will pardon my language, ladies."
Mildred tutted. "Keep your tight scrotum to yourself, will you, Doc?"
"But you know that feeling of part thrill and part primitive, atavistic terror of heights, madam. To go over
there is to die, without a doubt."
Jak was swinging back and forth on the flimsy fence, oblivious to the fact that some of its base fastenings
had come loose and it was only hanging in place by a few rusting pins. "If dived clean down be all right.
Straight into river. Long as no shallows or rocks."
The Armorer was fanning himself with his hat, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "Quite
wrong, Jak."
"How?"
J.B. sniffed. "I saw a mag article once about high divers. Seems there's an optimum height, no matter how
skillful you are, where your momentum gathers and you accelerate until hitting water's like hitting a sheet
of marble."
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20...0Deathlands%2032%20-%20Circle%20Thrice.html (172 of 215) [12/29/2004 2:12:50 PM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathlands%2032%20-%20Circle%20Thrice.html
"Thirty-two feet per second, per second," Mildred said. "One of the few facts I recall from high school
physics. Rate of acceleration. Means in the first second you fall thirty-two feet. Sixty-four feet the next
second. Ninety-six in the third second. And so on and on, faster and faster, until you reach maximum
speed, whatever that is."
Krysty threw back her head, letting the strong breeze blow through her flaming hair. "I read that high
divers also got punchy after a bit, because of the repeated damage to their brain. So keep away from the
edge, Jak."
The teenager looked at the others, as if he wondered if he were being teased. He decided he wasn't and
moved back a couple of paces from the brink.
"You all right, Doc?" Mildred asked, seeing that the old man was looking a little pale and had moved
back out of the sun to sit on a shelf of shaded rock.
He was holding his stomach, biting his lip. "I believe it is just a passing attack of dyspepsia, thank you,
Doctor. But rather sharp, I must confess."
"Maybe we should get back to the house, so you can have a rest. Put your feet up. Ryan?"
"Yeah, sure."
But the sight of the misty river, raging through the deep gorge, was hypnotic. The sensation drawing him
toward it was strangely powerful and brought back to him the mesmeric powers of Straub.
He tore himself away from the platform, and they made their way back to the ville, Doc occasionally
rubbing at his stomach while assuring them that he was feeling fine.
Ryan walked with J.B. and Krysty. "What do you make of Straub?" he asked.
"Mad and bad all the way through, lover. He glories in what that bitch's done to him. Like it was some
sort of sick honor. Still wouldn't trust him as far as I could spit."
"J.B.?"
"Man's got a brain like a cunning, rabid rat. My guess is that he's got himself caught by someone as
devious and power crazed as him. Now he's settling himself inside her nest. Become a councilor to her so
she'll need him and trust him." The Armorer was polishing his glasses as they walked by the pool. A
dragonfly, better than a foot in length, floated by them, a poem in iridescent turquoise and aquamarine.
"And one day the Countess Katya Beausoleil gets to wake up dead."
Ryan paused to look at a gigantic carp, rainbow scaled, as it broke the surface of the pond to snap at a
skimming water boatman. "Yeah," he said. "Like we think along the same lines. Wish he'd tell us the truth
about Trader. Probably the only way we'll ever know how that final curtain came down."
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20...0Deathlands%2032%20-%20Circle%20Thrice.html (173 of 215) [12/29/2004 2:12:50 PM]
file:///C|/2590%20Sci-Fi%20and%20Fantasy%20E-books/James%20Axler%20-%20Deathlands%2032%20-%20Circle%20Thrice.html
THE HOUSE HAD A wonderful library, and it was a pleasure for the companions to spend some time [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]