Clay's Ark Read Online Free PDF

"That did look like a snakebite scar," he said.
    "What the hell do you think it was?" demanded Ingraham. "I was there. The rattler bit him, tried to crawl off, then
    doubled up a few times and died. We kept the tail. Fifteen-bead rattle."
    Blake decided he was being lied to. He sighed and leaned back in silent rejection of whatever fantasy might come next.
    "This whole thing is going to be hard on you, Doc," Ingraham said. "You're going to want to ignore just about
    everything we say because none of it makes any sense in the world you come from. You'll deny and Rane will try to
    deny and it won't make a damn bit of difference because one way or another, all three of you are here to stay."
     
     
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    The dogs were winning.
    They had attacked almost in unison, furiously, angered by his alien scent. Together, they managed to bring him down
    before he could hurt either of them. Then the smaller one, who appeared to be part Doberman, bit into the arm he had
    thrown up to protect his throat.
    Pain was the trigger that threw him into his changed body's version of overdrive. Moving faster than the dogs could
    follow, he rolled, came to his feet, locked both hands together and battered the smaller dog down in midair. The dog
    gave a short shrieking cry, fell, and lay twitching on the ground.
    The larger dog leaped for his throat. He threw himself to one side, avoiding its teeth, but hunger and weariness had
    taken their toll. He stumbled, fell. The dog lunged again. He knew he could not avoid it this time, knew he was about to
    die.
    Then there was a thunderous sound-a shot, he realized. The dog landed awkwardly, unhurt, but startled by the sound.
    There was human shouting. Someone pulled the dog back before it could renew its attack.
    He looked up and saw a man standing over him, holding an old shotgun. In that brief moment, he noted that the man
    was frightened both of him and for him, that the man did not want to do harm, but certainly would in self-defense, that
    this man, according to his body language, would not harm anything helpless.
    That was enough.
    He let his weariness, hunger, and pain take him. Leaving his abused body to the care of the stranger with the out-of
    date conscience and the old-fashioned shotgun, he passed out.
    When he came to, he was in a big, cool, blue-walled room, lying in a clean, comfortable bed. He smiled, lay still for a
    while, taking mental inventory of his already nearly healed injuries. His arm had been bitten and torn in three places.
    His hands and arms had been scratched and bruised. His legs were bruised. Some of this was from climbing the rocks
     
     
     
     
    to this house. Some was from climbing out of the red volcanic mountains where he had hidden when the ship was
    destroyed. His muscles ached and he was thirsty again. But more important, he was intensely hungry. Food was
    available now. He could smell it. Someone was cooking pork, roasting it, he thought, so that the savory meat smell
    drifted through the house and seemed almost edible itself. His body required more food than a normal person's and in
    spite of his desert kills, he had been hungry for days. The food smells now made him almost sick with hunger.
    He found a pitcher of water and a glass on the night table next to his bed. He drank all the water directly from the
    pitcher, then sat up and looked himself over.
    He had been bathed, and clothed in someone's gray pajamas. Whoever had removed his coverall and bathed him was
    probably ill. They would not realize it for about three weeks, but when the symptoms began to make themselves felt,
    chances were, his rescuer would go to a doctor and pass the infection on beyond this isolated place. And chances were,
    neither the rescuer nor the doctor would survive-though, of course, both would live long enough to infect others. Many
    others. Both would be infectious long before they began to exhibit symptoms. The doctor would not recognize the
    illness, would probably give