Prisoner of Fire Read Online Free PDF Page B

come.
    The girl was wearing a dark blue vest and dark bluetrousers. She was pitifully thin. The drizzle had left a fine lacing of jewels in her hair. Surprised and shaken, Roland Badel turned her over and looked at her face. For a few terrible moments, he had to stop himself from shouting and running. She seemed to look just like Susan Stride. Then, when he had calmed down, he saw that she was quite different. About the same age, but different.
    Under the mud her face was dreadfully pale, but she was still breathing. He managed to lift her up and carry her into the cottage. He put her on a battered settee, found a blanket and laid it over her, and lighted a wood fire. Then he poured himself a very large whisky, drank it and poured another.
    Then he sat on a chair, staring at her, trying to think what to do.

6
    V ANESSA OPENED HER eyes. Shehad not the strength to lift herself up, but she could move her head a little. It took her some time to focus. She saw a fire, a bright, comfortable wood fire, and gazed at it gratefully for a few moments. Her mind began to work, but slowly, as if it were half frozen. She realised she was in a room.
    Presently, she noticed a man sitting on a chair, staring at her. He had a glass in his hand. She tried to probe his mind; but she was too weak; and, anyway, there was a fog all over his thoughts. Vaguely she wondered what he was drinking. Then she wondered how long he had been drinking.
    There were whisperings in her head. Weak, exhausted whisperings. She recognised the pattern. Poor Dugal. They must be working him very hard at Random Hill. He was their best now, and they were driving him into the ground.
    ‘Vanessa,’ came the tired whispering, ‘dear Vanessa, where are you? I’m so tired, but Dr. Lindemann keeps asking me to send… Vanessa, just say you are alive, just for me. I won’t tell… I won’t…’
    She felt a great surge of pity. Dr. Lindemann’s supply of chocolate bars was caught up in the law of diminishing returns. She wondered if she, too, had the strength to send. She gathered herself to try.
    ‘Dugal, I’m all right,’ she flashed weakly. ‘Don’t tryto trace. Just pretend—unless they have a monitor. I don’t want to come back. Love and kisses. Out.’
    ‘You will come back,’ whispered a new pattern, strange and uneven, wavering in strength. ‘You will come back, Vanessa. We shall find you.’
    Who was that? It might have been Meriona. More likely it was Thomas, a thirteen-year-old, whose powers varied enormously. Vanessa remembered that one of the scientists had said Thomas ought to be good, when he had emotionally settled down after puberty.
    Instantly she closed her mind, and tried a music block. But the man in the chair was speaking to her, and she had to listen to what he was saying. She was too weak to set up a block and, at the same time, find out what was going on.
    “What is your name?” asked the man thickly. “Where have you come from? What the hell were you doing in my chicken run? What’s wrong with you?”
    She looked at him for a moment or two and said nothing, being unable to think of anything to say.
    “Talk, girl!” he shouted. “Tell! I’ve had a bellyful of adolescent females.” He poured himself another drink with trembling hands. “I have to decide whether to get the police or the psychiatric squad. So tell it for real.”
    Tears trickled down Vanessa’s cheeks. It looked as if her luck had run out. She tried to think.
    “Have you got any music?” she asked.
    “Have I got any what?”
    “Music. I need it in my head. I know it sounds stupid, but please play some music, and then I can talk.” She knew she could not maintain her own blocks much longer. Music would help.
    He shrugged. “You’re nuts.” He laughed. “So am I. So are we all. Yes, I have some taped music. What is your poison?”
    “The 1812?” sheasked hopefully. The sheer volume would help to disorientate any probes.
    He seemed to understand. “I have