o ed4c3e33dafa4d72 by Sylvie Pepos Read Free Book Online Page B

hopeful, ecstatic, then she began to fade
    from his sight.
    "No!" he cried out, but she was gone, leaving him lost, desperate, so totally without hope.
    "No more today," Bridget told him as he came flying up through the ashes of his own disintegration. "You can rest, Captain."
    He found her eyes, those wonderful, pitying eyes and he drew comfort, small as it was,
    from those precious, friendly eyes.
    "Bridget," he sighed, remembering her name and very proud of his ability to do so.
    "Yes, Captain," she agreed, stroking his cheek.
    They lifted him onto the gurney and his head lolled. His weary, grainy vision caught
    sight of the people in the gallery observing him, pointing at him, wanting him to break.
    "Damn you to the Abyss," he thought he told them, but later, he could not remember if he had or not. As he lay in his bed, once more strapped down despite the fact that he
    could not seem to get his muscles to maintain any semblance of strength, he decided he
    had not said anything at all.
    He might have dozed, but he did not think he had for he was bone-tired and unable to
    sleep without the triso. He came to himself, feeling her cool fingers on him again. She
    was smiling gently at him, sorrowfully it seemed to him, and he had to look away, unable
    to bear the sight of her.
    "Make a fist for me, Captain," she told him.
    He swiveled his head back around and saw the syringe in her hand. His gaze shifted to
    hers and held although he didn't say anything.
    "Make a fist, please," she repeated.
    He slowly clenched his hand. "That isn't my triso."
    "No, Sir, it isn't."
    "Then what is it?"
    She explained it to him and he nearly howled with outrage.
    The drug was part of his punishment: an excruciating stimulant that would race to the
    somatomotor area of his cerebral cortex; an emotional roller coaster that would cause
    intense hyperactivity. Being strapped down as he was, there would be no way for him to
    get up to pace his cell to wear the agitation from his body. It was an exquisite torture,
    designed to drive him mad.
    "I am sorry, Captain," she told him for what must have been the tenth time since he had made her acquaintance. "I truly am sorry; you don't deserve this, Sir."
    The drug raced through his veins and he began to itch in a hundred places, his arms
    and legs an agony of tingling. With no way to scratch, no way to relieve the maddening
    sensations washing over him, he threw back his head and bellowed with rage.
    "Damn you!" he shouted, glaring at the camera. "Damn all of you!"
    All, he thought with a pang of true regret, except the woman with the beautiful green
    eyes.
    CREE LAY there calmly enough the next morning as Bridget locked into place the
    band across his chest. She smelled of flowers, a scent that was clean and fresh. He
    studied her face and for the first time in his life the word sensuous had meaning for him.
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    She moved to the table to place the rubber wedge between his teeth. She smiled at him
    and he obediently opened his mouth.
    When the drug entered his body, he knew something was wrong. The feeling—one of
    acute anxiety coupled with emotions he couldn't have explained with words—flooded
    through him and in rapid succession, the fire dissolved him, the water invaded his lungs,
    the rocks crushed him and the fangs ripped him apart with such swiftness, he barely had
    time to register the godsawful pain.
    "Kamerone! This way, beloved. Come this way!"
    He turned away from the darkness and saw her standing at the top of a small rise. His
    hope soared and he started to climb to her, striving to keep her beautiful face before him; but then the all- encompassing terror of impending death loomed up out of the darkness
    and sprung, catching him unaware with a hemp noose that dropped over his head and
    jerked him off his feet, away from her.
    "Noooooooooooo!"
    Bridget saw his eyes