James Axler - Deathlands 039 - Watersleep

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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep

A second blast of thunder ripped through the night

Dean slammed into Mildred, and the woman managed to hang on to his shirttail,

keeping him upright. Doc reached out desperately, latching on to a metal lip that

was attached to the bulkhead.

But Krysty had been thrown off her feet and onto her upper back and neck. The

suddenness of the explosion smashed her down with terrific force, knocking her

unconscious as she slid toward the gaping hole in the hull.

Jak twisted his lithe body as he fell, managing not to break his neck as he slipped

through the hole and hit the churning water. Gasping for breath, he struggled to

maintain some proper sense of which way was up.

Seeing Krysty's limp body already being sucked into the undertow beneath the

vessel, he pushed himself deeper into the chilling ocean and grasped a fistful of

long red hair.

Then they both vanished from sight.

Watersleep

#39 in the Deathland series

James Axler

A GOLD EAGLE BOOK FROM WORLDWIDE

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY •

HAMBURG • STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN MADRID •

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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep

WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is

stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and

neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped

book."

First edition November 1977

ISBN 0-373-62539-1

WATERSLEEP

this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other

means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying

and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden

without the written permission of the publisher, Worldwide Library, 225 Duncan

Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author

and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They

are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author,

and all incidents are pure invention.

® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are

registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade

Marks Office and in other countries.

Printed in U.S.A.

Full fathom five thy father lies:

Of his bones are coral made;

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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep

Those are pearls that were his eyes;

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange.

—The Tempest, Act I, scene 2

William Shakespeare

THE DEATHLANDS SAGA

This world is their legacy, a world born in the violent nuclear spasm of 2001 that

was the bitter outcome of a struggle for global dominance.

There is no real escape from this shockscape where life always hangs in the

balance, vulnerable to newly demonic nature, barbarism, lawlessness.

But they are the warrior survivalists, and they endure—in the way of the lion, the

hawk and the tiger, true to nature's heart despite its ruination.

Ryan Cawdor: The privileged son of an East Coast baron. Acquainted with

betrayal from a tender age, he is a master of the hard realities.

Krysty Wroth: Harmony ville's own Titian-haired beauty, a woman with the

strength of tempered steel. Her premonitions and Gaia powers have been fostered

by her Mother Sonja.

J. B. Dix, the Armorer: Weapons master and Ryan's close ally, he, too, honed

his skills traversing the Deathlands with the legendary Trader.

Doctor Theophilus Tanner: Torn from his family and a gentler life in 1896, Doc

has been thrown into a future he couldn't have imagined.

Dr. Mildred Wyeth: Her father was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, but her fate is

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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep

not much lighter. Restored from predark cryogenic suspension, she brings

twentieth-century healing skills to a nightmare.

Jak Lauren: A true child of the wastelands, reared on adversity, loss and danger,

the albino teenager is a fierce fighter and loyal friend.

Dean Cawdor: Ryan's young son by Sharona accepts the only world he knows,

and yet he is the seedling bearing the promise of tomorrow.

In a world where all was lost, they are humanity's last hope…

Prologue

Ryan Cawdor was drowning.

His chest echoed heavily with the dull thud of a waterlogged pump, each

heartbeat growing slower and groggier. He tried to speak, and a precious dollop of

his last few seconds of oxygen bubbled out of his open mouth. He watched the air

bubbles float upward, following their path with his good right eye, and tried to

focus on what might lie beyond them.

At first he thought his vision was blurred, but then Ryan realized there was no sky

overhead, no clouds, no stars, nothing but water. He squinted and took in a sight

his brain logically told him had to be the murky green fluid of the ocean. No lake

or manmade pool had ever offered up such a color of green—a green duskier than

the blackest of any moonless night, and just as dark and infinite.

The green was everywhere, surrounding his entire body and being.

Ryan had always imaged the ocean depths as being cold as ice, but he was

strangely warm instead. He could almost taste sweat on his lips, but knew the salt

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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_Watersleep

on his tongue had to be coming from the seawater. Could a man sweat underwater

if the temperature got hot enough, cook like a fish in a pot over an open fire?

Ryan thought it was possible, but he'd have to try to remember to ask Mildred

when…

Ask Mildred when they ended the jump.

And then he remembered—not where he was, but where he had been.

So many crumbling cities and villes, so many dif-ferent areas of Deathlands, all of

them ultimately left behind as he pressed on, looking for a safe harbor.

Ryan's mind raced, trying to sort out a confusing jumble of images. The last

concrete event his memory recalled was in the military redoubt. As he'd done so

many times before, he'd hurriedly slammed shut the heavy metal door that

activated the mat-trans unit. The sec lock had clicked reassuringly, letting him

know all was ready. This locking sound was followed in turn by the spectral

appearance of the sinister pale mist that signaled the beginning of a jump.

The light fog continued to gather, thickening around the unearthly shimmering

disks in the floor and ceiling, and an almost inaudible hum from within the bowels

of the chamber began to make itself heard deep inside the group's heads.

Ryan sat on the floor with Krysty Wrath's hip next to his own. He could see the

radiant fire of her long red hair out of the corner of his eye. On his other side,

sharing his dark complexion and black, curly hair, was his son, Dean. Until

recently the youngster had been a student at the Nicholas Brady School in

Colorado, obtaining a much needed education.

A formal education of the sort Ryan had paid for didn't come cheap in the hellish

world of Deathlands, but he knew the boy would need some book schooling

before returning to the harsh realities of daily sur-vival. Knowledge was just as

useful a tool as a good blaster or a working war wag.

Across from Ryan was a young albino with features distinctive enough to bring

more than a glancing no-tice, even among the more unusual appearances in

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Axler,_James_-_Deathlands_39_-_WatersleepAsecondblastofthunderrippedthroughthenightDeanslammedintoMildred,andthewomanmanagedtohangontohisshirt ail,keepinghimupright.Docreachedoutdesperately,latchingontoametallipthatwasattachedtothebulkhead.ButKrystyhadbeenthrownoffherfeetandontoherupperbackandneck...

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James Axler - Deathlands 039 - Watersleep

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