Nightmare journey by Dean Koontz Read Free Book Online Page B

and sealed off. They must gain the forest and, shortly after that, the sanctity of the Chen Valley Blight.
    At last they passed the tail section of the abandoned spacecraft- if, indeed, spacecraft it was-the soaring, rust-spotted, sixty-foot- diameter cylinders that might have been six mighty engines glinting like blue jewels in the slanting rays of the giant sun. Now Jask was more at ease, relieved of the threatening sight of the ship, no longer constantly confronted with the wonder of it-the deeply heretical wonder of it. Still, he found a great deal to catch his eye, engage his mind and make him feel, ultimately, as if he were displaced, lost, alone and unhappy.
    Approximately twenty meters above the shattered street, the broken sections of the second-level roadway swept in what were clearly once- graceful arcs from one peak of ruin to another, sometimes breaking off in midair, thick beams dangling precariously but held well enough to have lasted out the bitter centuries. Here and there the roads crossed pylons or struck through the center of buildings, twisting out the other side and curving away in another direction. Beneath the roadways, twisted, charred, vine-eaten machines, which may have once been the vehicles that traveled the skyway, lay quiet and dreaming, dulled and pitted and useless.
    They passed through a courtyard ringed by the smashed and rotting walls of stone and plastic buildings and found, miraculously, a pocket of cleanliness and perfection in the midst of the post- holocaust city. Here, pillars of glass, rising fifty meters into the sky, each easily ten meters in diameter and as clear as fine crystal, ringed a dark glass floor, upon which had been traced curious designs in crimson frost.
    “What's this?” Jask inquired as their feet squeaked on the slick floor.
    “I don't really know,” Tedesco said.
    “Then how is it so undamaged, while the remainder of the city died so long ago?”
    “I haven't the answer to that, either,” the bruin said, stepping up the pace.
    Jask genuinely desired answers to these questions, for the strange place had intrigued him more than a little-yet he was perversely pleased that Tedesco lacked this knowledge.
    They passed beyond the glimmering glass columns, stepped off the shining floor and walked on through more mundane scenery, through crushed blocks of stone, jagged sheets of glass, twisted steel beams, the yellowed bones of men, the bones of other less identifiable creatures, past machines of all shapes and sizes, past a row of six pyramidal buildings where the doors were ten meters high and twice that wide and opened on unknowable chambers or devices, past statues of men who had presumably once been famous, past statues of creatures who were in no way similar to man and who were even too unhuman to be classified as tainted creatures, quasi-men, statues that could only be of beasts. But who, Jask wondered, would erect a monument to a nonintelligent creature? They passed more of these, some broken, some in perfect order, passed a great glass bell with what appeared to be thousands of names etched into its sweeping surface, passed an amphitheater with one seat and a multitude of stages. Shortly they came upon the most unexpected sight of all: three man-sized maintenance robots busily removing the debris from a wall that had recently collapsed for half its length.
    They stopped.
    They watched, perplexed.
    All three robots were in bad repair, tarnished, stained, creaking, with tortured limbs and gap-edged joints, each as tall as two men but somehow diminished by their ruined facades, just as an old man, though keeping his full height and stature, oftentimes seems tiny and frail and useless. One of these three machines had a broken tread. It bumped around on its two good strips while the damaged band flapped loudly in its wake. Another had only one good digited extensor arm with which to gather the trash, letting the other three limbs slap wildly about, jerking this way and