The Last Odyssey (Sigma Force #15) - James Rollins Page 0,139

the world. He felt as if he were swimming upside down. He paddled, panicked, afraid of going under. The room spun inside his head. He quickly grew disoriented, unsure if he was even still headed in the right direction. He pictured himself swimming in circles until exhaustion dragged him down.

Already he felt his strength sapping.

Get hold of yourself, he demanded.

Still, he knew what was happening. Mac had explained it all to him. Kowalski again pictured waves of radiation sweeping through him. It can kill you in minutes, Mac had warned and ticked off the warning signs. Nausea, disorientation, headaches.

Check, check, and check.

Kowalski swam faster, hoping it was all in his head, some psychosomatic bullshit. But he couldn’t convince himself of that. Instead he pictured Maria, smiling at some joke, frowning at something stupid he did, which was all too often. He remembered her touch in the night, the smell of her skin, the brush of her hair. He recalled their last night together in Agadir, sinking into her warmth, her breath on his neck.

She was his lamp in the darkness now.

He kicked and paddled, his breath heaving in and out. He would do anything to keep her safe, even cross a toxic sea.

I can do this—for you.

Then something grabbed his ankle and dragged him under.

8:03 P.M.

Maria pounded on the bronze door. With her forehead pressed to the hot glass, she searched the roiling surface of the glowing pool. Halfway across, Joe’s body had jerked and vanished into the oil.

Gray had seen it, too. He was at the small fountain, drinking from its black font. He and Bailey had already dunked themselves earlier in the larger tank, to protect themselves as they opened the door for Kowalski and slammed it behind him. Now it looked like Gray intended a rescue operation.

As Gray stepped toward the door, Maria stopped him, blocking him with her body. “No,” she said. “That wasn’t the plan.”

Gray’s eyes shone with a fierce determination.

Maria faced that heat.

Bailey grabbed Gray’s shoulder. Even Seichan shifted next to Maria, backing her up. They had all agreed they would only try this once, risking only one of them.

“Joe has this,” Maria told Gray. “He has this.”

Gray clenched a fist.

Maria turned her back on him, leaving the others to deal with Gray.

She stared across the glowing green pool.

Don’t make a liar out of me, Joe.

8:04 P.M.

Kowalski thrashed in the oil, struggling to hold his breath, to keep his lips pressed tightly. As he was dragged deeper, he twisted down and grabbed the end of a segmented metal tendril wrapped around his boot. He fought to rip it off, but it only clamped harder.

Fuck this.

He let go of the constricting vine and tugged his laces loose. Then he pried at the trapped boot with his other heel, with both hands. He wiggled and fought. Luckily the foot inside the boot was well greased. The boot finally popped off. He felt it wrench away, towed into the depths.

He kicked the other way, pawing for the surface.

He finally broke through to open air. He clawed the wraps from his face and head. Most of it had already been dislodged. Whatever protection it had offered, it was too late now. The damage was done.

As he swam for the far landing, he opened his eyes, knowing he needed to see. The glow of the pool glared after the minutes of darkness—or maybe it was the radiation causing his eyes to ache. He didn’t know, and right now he didn’t care.

Maybe the oil over his head was enough. Maybe what he had washed into his eyes when he had bathed in the black oil would protect him. Maybe what he drank . . .

He heard splashing behind him.

A glance back revealed a nest of tendrils shredding the water. His stolen boot was thrown high, bouncing off the ceiling and back into the water. The mass of bronze vines snaked toward him.

He swam faster, choking down bile, ignoring the spin of the room, his heart hammering. He no longer bothered with a cautious breaststroke. He ducked his head and swam freestyle, speeding across the buoyant oil.

Legs kicking, arms digging.

He held his breath, keeping his face down.

He sensed the approach of the wall and peeked up.

Another two yards.

Something brushed the toes on his bootless foot.

He strangled a scream and gave one last burst of speed. He hit the far side, lunged up, grabbed the edge, and pitched over. Like a seal beaching on an ice floe, he slid and rolled across