D A Novel (George Right) - By George Right Page 0,118

was madness. That was it, most likely, it was simply madness. Probably, it was indeed written by the murderer, by a balmy maniac, with a screw loose. Anyway, a person who was the least bit sane could hardly do what had been done to that woman. Person or persons, he thought to himself, considering the possibilities. There would be still a chance to deal with one maniac barehanded, but if...

He looked at his hands. Oh yeah. The flashlight which was still wrapped up in a piece of paper, lay on a stair nearby, but the tablet was not there. Now he remembered, how during his run the "skirt" began to fall down, and he had mechanically seized it. Yes, of course, he thought gloomily, the civilized man in all his glory–dropping his only weapon to obey the useless conventions of decency. It would be necessary to go back down to look for the tablet. But he could not force himself. It seemed to him that the ugly worms with legs had already crawled up the staircase following him from below. And all the same, what could he do with this pitiful tablet? It was in no way comparable even to the most unpretentious knife. It could not inflict a deep wound, and even a surface wound would be possible only if the enemy did not resist. All was hopeless–all. He will never get out of here. He felt a sudden desire to write directly on the floor, "NO EXIT.” If he had been bleeding at that very moment, he, perhaps, would do just that.

He shook his head. No, it is necessary to struggle with these attacks of despair. It is necessary... to struggle... He took the flashlight and stood up. Upwards on the staircase? Or first to investigate the rest of the ring on this level, where he has regained consciousness? He had found three corpses here, yes. But now he was convinced that danger could await anywhere. And he recalled that the first corpse had been found in a bathroom on the other side of a door where he had lain insensible and helpless. Arguing in this manner, he should have been finished off already there, at the same time as the other victim. Or may it be that he was the chosen one? Perhaps he would not suffer the same fate that the others had suffered and that was why he was still alive. Even if it were so, however, he might have been chosen for something even worse?

He heaved a deep sigh. Speculating was useless. He stepped into the aperture leading into the cylinder, without any idea why he had made this particular choice. Maybe it was just because he had no desire to clamber up an abrupt staircase again. This time he bypassed the lift shaft from the other direction and moved along a corridor which he had not explored yet.

Here he saw no corpses–aside from several dead cockroaches on the floor (or spiders or whatever they actually were). Suddenly it came to him that, perhaps, in the beginning of his exploration, that he would not have discerned these tiny bodies in the twilight on the dirty floor. It was not less dirty here, but... So did it mean that the light, yet still flickering painfully, became slightly more bright and stable? Only in this corridor, or on the whole level? For some reason this discover did not make him happy at all. Perhaps, somewhere the big sections of light fixtures, or other equipment, zoned out–and at the expense of them more energy began to supplement what remained? Then all this illumination is only for a short while. But even such variant was not the worst. Maybe... maybe, this whole place was awaking–not as a patient recovering from a coma, but as a vampire rolling in his tomb.

He reached the end of a corridor and found himself in an external ring again. He stopped dead.

From the left the sounds of bumps arose.

He stood still, again with a sharp regret that he remained without a weapon (the flashlight did not suit this role in any way). But now he wanted to go back for the tablet even less. Thinking a little, he came to the conclusion that there was a barrier between him and the source of these sounds. Otherwise the blows would have been heard more clearly. Having put a hand on an internal wall of the ring corridor, he felt how it shuddered slightly in