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eBook Category: Science Fiction
eBook Description: A seriously injured doctor learns that the best medicine can be his own.

eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Analog, 2003
Fictionwise Release Date: February 2003

17 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: eReader (PDB) [39 KB] , ePub (EPUB) [42 KB] , Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [25 KB] , Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [98 KB] , Palm Doc (PDB) [27 KB] , Microsoft Reader (LIT) [73 KB] , Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [99 KB] , hiebook (KML) [86 KB] , Sony Reader (LRF) [56 KB] , iSilo (PDB) [22 KB] , Mobipocket (PRC) [28 KB] , Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [56 KB] , OEBFF Format (IMP) [40 KB]
Words: 7460
Reading time: 21-29 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format:  Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED

Paul

I jump into a small black boat. Perhaps it's made of wood. I can't tell if I'm sitting or standing. I see no oars. The boat autonomously leaves its dock and floats away on the grim turquoise river, following some dark agenda rather than any natural current. I am bone marrow weary but it could be suicidal to relax. There may be enemies nearby. I don't see any, but that doesn't mean a thing.

I am too exposed now, too far from the sandy riverbanks, gliding though this underground purgatory lit only by Ferrari-size torches that burn red, blue, or green. I need those torches, but God, how I hate them! Drusy stalactites catch their light, blend it, and hurl it into my face like a mortal insult from rainbows. My sore eyes are constantly whipped with glints and streaks. And in this place, above all, I need good vision.

I admit that these endless caves are impressive. Tall enough for clouds to form and rain or snow to fall. Right now, the stony skies are clear but that could change in an instant. Everything can change in an instant.

The boat lacks a tiller, but I get a sudden sense that my right hand is gripping something invisible that provides me a measure of directional control, something alien to this world but obscurely related to it. I've had this sensation before, always mingled with irrational bittersweet nostalgia. But as a rule, I can't feel my hands. So I can't explain how one fearsome weapon or another so consistently hovers nearby, ready for another desperate use, as if I were holding it in front of me. And I can't explain how I manage to change weapons at will, or aim and fire them.

Very rarely, the entire world unaccountably thins and I can dimly see my arms. That is, I think they are mine. Those are terrible moments because there is something terribly wrong with those arms. And when I glimpse my hands or seem to glimpse them, I dare not count fingers because so many are missing. The left hand is the worst--red, black, white, and shriveled--adorned with shiny yellow, unnatural growths.

But I am too afraid for my life to worry for long about anything else. Enemies can come from anywhere, and from any direction including from beneath and, in one horrid instance, from within.