@@@@@Cold water slopped over my wristInside the
@@@@@Cold water
slopped over my wristInside the metal sleeve,
something bumped and turnedInside my head, a
terrible black-green eye - the color of water at
the depth just before all light fails - also
turnedIt looked at my most secret thoughts, at
the place where anger surpasses rage and becomes
homicideThe way a woman
would bite into a plumI will never forget the
sensation
1080
"Watch it, Jack - close quartersLike a midget
submarine
"I'm freaking out, bossLittle touch of
claustrophobia
"Take a deep breathDo you have matches?"
He didn'tJack might not be averse
to six beers on a Saturday night, but his lungs
were smoke-freeThus there ensued a long,
nightmarish space of minutes - Wireman says no
more than four, but to me it seemed thirty, thirty
at least - during which Jack knelt, felt among the
bones, stood, moved a little, knelt again, felt
againMy arm was getting tiredMy hand was going
numbBlood continued to run from the wounds on my
chest, either because they were slow in clotting
or because they weren't clotting at allBut my
hand was the worstAll feeling was leaving it,
and soon I began to believe I was no longer
holding the flashlight sleeve at all, because I
couldn't see it and I was losing the sense of it
against my skinThe feeling of weight in my hand
had been swallowed by the tired throb of my
musclesI had to fight the urge to rap the metal
1081
sleeve against the side of the cistern to make
sure I still had it, even though I knew if I did,
I might drop itI began to think that the cap
must be lost in the maze of bones and bone
fragments, and Jack would never find it without a
light
"What's happening?" Wireman called
"Getting there!" I called backBlood dribbled
into my left eye, stinging, and I blinked it awa