|
|
|
|
|
|
|
carbonic acid. It had, over time, created a world of massive pillars and exquisite hangings, curtains of stone and altars of maverick granite. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The torches had been placed at what seemed to be random intervals. It was obvious now how elaborate the preparations had been. I was overwhelmed with the feeling that I had been catapulted into another time and space, a universe where every known human reference becomes completely useless. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Suddenly the tranquility was shattered by a mechanical sound, a metallic click, a sound completely out of harmony with the bizarre underground world that confronted me. I recognized it immediately, but immediately was too late. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"I knew it was only a matter of time," the familiar voice whispered. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
I spun in one direction, Madden in the other. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
It was Bert Johnson. Behind him was a smiling, white-gowned Angie. Bert's hand was tightly clenched around a very ominous looking, very big revolver. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Jesus, Bert, you scared the hell outta' me," Jake sputtered. "We've been lookin' for you. You okay?" |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Johnson's stony face relaxed into a mocking half-smile. "Of course I'm all right, Jake. At long last I'm among my own." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Madden went slack-mouthed; his face |
|
|
|
|
|