Prisoner of Fire by Edmund Cooper Read Free Book Online Page A

“Remember only that I can feel a probe. I give you that information free of charge. Incidentally, don’t worry about the love element. I can contain it. I will try not to offend you.”
    “What are you going to do—about me?”
    “Do you want to probe again?”
    “No. I’m just asking.”
    “Well, then. I’m going to look after you, feed you, help you get back your strength.”
    “And afterwards?”
    “Afterwards? Refugees like us, Vanessa, find it difficult to consider an abstraction called afterwards. We live from hour to hour, day to day.”
    Suddenly, Vanessa stiffened. The nightmare voices had returned. They were somehow nibbling away at her mind. She set up a block, but she did not have much strength.
    “What is it?”
    “They are trying to probe me,” she said as calmly as possible. “Could you let me have some music, please? I can’t stop them alone.”
    He did not say anything. He got up from the bed, went to a chest of drawers, found a transistor radio, switched it on, turned the volume up.
    Vintage pop music flooded the room. Vanessa was immensely grateful. She relaxed her block and let the music dominate her mind.
    “Why are they so persistent?” He had to speak loudly to make himself heard above the music.
    “I don’t know.”
    “Are you so good?”
    “The best they had, I think. But at other schools there must be many who are as good, or better.”
    Badel stroked his chin. “Not so many as you think, perhaps. Paranormals—the good ones—are much in demand these days… Did they let you see much tri-di at Random Hill?”
    “Quite a lot. It was censored.”
    “Then you may not know that Joe Humboldt is fascinated by paranormals. Just now, they are the in thing. The Prime Minister needs them for political insurance, therefore he is afraid of them.” He laughedgrimly. “The political animal reasons thus: who is not with us is against us… Perhaps that is why they want you back so much. Perhaps you are—or could be—a valuable weapon in the psych war.”
    “I don’t want to take part in any kind of war,” she said vehemently. “I just want to be left in peace… It is not only the Random Hill people who are trying to find out where I am. I know their patterns. But there are other patterns, other probes. At first, I thought they were all working with the police, or something like that. But there is a sort of smell of evil about some of them, a smell of death.” She shuddered. “They frighten me. They frighten me horribly... I’m so hungry. Could I have something to eat, please?”
    He held her hand. “I have plenty of food waiting for you, my dear. Soup, milk, eggs, fish, meat—whatever you like. You shall have whatever you want in a minute or two. But let us think. Time may be critical. You want to be left in peace, and I want to be left in peace. Our interests are identical… I told you my name. Do you remember it?”
    “Yes, it’s—“
    “Don’t say it. Don’t even think it. What I told you was a pack of lies. Now I will tell you the truth. My real name is Oliver Anderson. I was injured in a hovercar collision. I used to be a painter. Perhaps, when I have fully recovered, I will paint again… What is my name?”
    “Oliver Anderson.”
    “Where do I live?”
    “I—I don’t know.”
    “You really don’t know?”
    “No. I just ran and ran. I don’t know where I am.”
    “Good. Then I shall not tell you. You must know as little as possible. What is my name?”
    “OliverAnderson.”
    “What am I?”
    “A painter. You were injured in a hovercar crash.”
    “You had better believe it,” he said intensely. “Because if you don’t, I shall beat you. What is my name?”
    “Oliver Anderson.” Tears trickled down her face.
    “I’m so hungry. Please may I have some food?”
    “Say: please, Oliver, may I have something to eat?”
    “Please, Oliver, may I have something to eat?”
    “That’s better. Now lie back and rest for a minute or two.”
    Presently