Descending Road - THE EMBERS OF A DYING FIRE by Dana W. Paxson

THE EMBERS OF A DYING FIRE

1562 4D

The interrogator had left him unbound. Andrew slowly stripped off his coverall in the mine’s blackness, and felt his way painfully around the chamber until he found a water spigot. He washed himself and his soiled thinsuit underwear; the runoff created a filthy puddle by the wall. The smell assailed his nostrils, the fetid air seemed to glue itself to him, and he wanted to rip it aside with his still-swollen hands. Breathing came hard.

Limping, he explored the whole chamber with his fingertips and the echoes of his voice and movements. The solid steel door was locked. Exhausted by his efforts, he sat down and waited.

He must have slept. Dreams moved before him like suspended creatures of the sea, tentacled and poisonous, colorful and indolent, wearing the many faces of the city streets on their translucent folds. Leil‘s face came to him, gripped in the beak of some suckered horror that stripped the skin from her forehead. He had to get rid of this. Pounding his fist against the floor, inducing sharp pangs of hurt, drove the visions back; standing and jumping on his bulging, tender feet broiled him with pain and cleared his head.

These visions had to be from drugs the interrogator had given him. How could he keep them at bay? He walked laps around the chamber, detouring around the pool of his washed-away filth, until he could no longer feel his feet except as huge balls of pain, and he was puffing and weak. He stumbled and fell on his face.

Music began. It was only his dream, just the way he’d told it to the interrogator, but now it flooded down through him and quelled all pain the way water washes out the embers of a dying fire. Exhausted, he fell asleep.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	THE EMBERS OF A DYING FIRE 1562 4D The interrogator had left him unbound. Andrew slowly stripped off his coverall in the mine’s blackness, and felt his way painfully around the chamber until he found a water spigot. He washed himself and his soiled thinsuit underwear; the runoff created a filthy puddle by the wall. The smell assailed his nostrils, the fetid air seemed to glue itself to him, and he wanted to rip it aside with his still-swollen hands. Breathing came hard. Limping, he explored the whole chamber with his fingertips and the echoes of his voice and movements. The solid steel door was locked. Exhausted by his efforts, he sat down and waited. He must have slept. Dreams moved before him like suspended creatures of the sea, tentacled and poisonous, colorful and indolent, wearing the many faces of the city streets on their translucent folds. Leil‘s face came to him, gripped in the beak of some suckered horror that stripped the skin from her forehead. He had to get rid of this. Pounding his fist against the floor, inducing sharp pangs of hurt, drove the visions back; standing and jumping on his bulging, tender feet broiled him with pain and cleared his head. These visions had to be from drugs the interrogator had given him. How could he keep them at bay? He walked laps around the chamber, detouring around the pool of his washed-away filth, until he could no longer feel his feet except as huge balls of pain, and he was puffing and weak. He stumbled and fell on his face. Music began. It was only his dream, just the way he’d told it to the interrogator, but now it flooded down through him and quelled all pain the way water washes out the embers of a dying fire. Exhausted, he fell asleep.