Flash Gordon Read Online Free PDF

dressed in white jeans and his “Flash” T-shirt. He loaded his two suitcases into the station wagon he had rented for the duration of his vacation. Since he had settled his hotel bill the night before and had made arrangements to leave the rented car at the airport, his oversleeping had merely inconvenienced him; it would not cause him to miss his flight.
    He drove fast over the winding roads bordered by shrubbery and trees. He turned on the radio and listened to a rock song, a hymn of a lover to his woman, informing her that just a little of her love was enough. Her love was so incredible, her body was so edible, she gave him an overdose of love. Flash identified heavily with the singer, though he had never experienced the woman he loved. He was afraid that if he ever saw her again, he would not possess the courage to speak to her. Ah, she’s probably married with three kids and two lovers on the sly, he thought, rolling down the window in the hopes that the cool, brisk air would help him concentrate more on his driving.
    The fresh air did not help. He arrived at the airport sooner than he had expected because he had driven there automatically, his mind transported to realms of passion and sensation by the rock music.
    Usually when he was up and about early in the morning, he looked to the clouds and felt his spirit soar into the blue depths. However, today he failed to notice the bright red streaks occasionally sweeping across the sky before burning out or falling from sight. One streak stabbed through a flock of birds migrating from the south, scattering them in all directions, setting a single unfortunate bird aflame.
    Flash pulled into the parking spaces before the landing strip. The airport was so small that the strip was not fenced off; there were no problems with crowd control. The main task of the two-engine plane sitting on the strip was to deliver the mail now being loaded into the storage compartments. Realizing there was really no point in entering the plane until all the mail was loaded, Flash read a newspaper he had left beside him on the seat. It was a week old, but his mind was wandering anyway. The thought of beginning training camp actually filled him with dread. Maybe I’ll retire after this year. Become an actor before my nose gets broken.
    He was actually becoming immersed in an article he had not previously noticed, something about the economic index’s correlation to reality, when pellets suddenly struck the station wagon, making a dull sound on the windshields and a rattling noise on the hood and roof.
    It’s hailing, he thought with some surprise, since, save for a white cloud on the horizon, the sky was clear. A chill ran through him, but it did not originate at his spine; the temperature had actually dropped for five seconds. Hearing a hissing, he looked out the window and saw a small, red-hot cinder fizzling in a puddle. He looked straight ahead, then at the pellet again. It was now black, charred, and cool.
    Naw. Must be my imagination.
    He lifted up the paper, but before he could read a word, a chauffeured van pulled up on the left of the station wagon. On the side of the van was inscribed DARK HARBOR INN; below the inscription, was a replica of the Frazetta painting of an undersea monster towering above a skindiver. I saw that movie, thought Flash absently, remembering The Creature from the Black Lagoon.
    Then Flash recognized the silhouette through the tinted glass of the passenger’s window. He would recognize the shape of that freshly permed hair anywhere. His heart threatened to crack his sternum, the blood vessels between his skin and skull expanded practically to the point of bursting; he wondered if he could count on them; he felt a glow of hope and the fear of rejection and disappointment; he threw the newspaper down on the black mat on the passenger’s side; he scrambled to pick up his luggage and open the door simultaneously; he controlled himself with an effort.
    Okay, Flash,