Prometheus Road Read Online Free PDF Page A

The point didn’t puncture her leather pants, but it hurt anyway.
    Memphis shoved the crystal into her face. “Explain this! It’s from the ruins, isn’t it? From the forbidden zone!”
    Tempest bit her lip and nodded. His breath smelled of the garlic cloves he liked to chew.
    Humboldt moved closer. “I’m sure she didn’t know where it was from, Father.”
    “Get back to work, Humboldt,” Memphis snapped. He glared at his son, and Humboldt lumbered back over to the broken sculpture before looking back with a brief smile at Tempest. He picked up the pry bar.
    She shook her head. “Stop him, Father! Make him leave it alone! That’s my sculpture!”
    “You dare to tell your father what to do?” Memphis hissed. He looked at the crystal again. “This is from Tom Eliot, isn’t it?”
    Her teeth chattered. “No.”
    “Don’t lie to me, girl. It will go worse for you if you add lying to your list of sins this day.”
    Tempest swallowed and nodded once, her eyes wide, bracing herself for whatever might happen next.
    “Humboldt!” Memphis roared. “Come here!” When Humboldt jogged back over beside Tempest, Memphis lifted her and shoved her into his arms. “Take her to the box.”
    Humboldt swallowed as he grabbed Tempest under the arms and lifted her. “The box?”
    “You heard me,” Memphis growled, breathing hard. “Take her there now, or you’ll be next.”
    “Please, Father, no!” Tempest cried, struggling to get away from Humboldt as he dragged her away.
    “You’ve made your choice, girl.” His voice was softer as he followed them out of the barn. “I’ve warned you about Tom Eliot, yet you continue to defy me. Now he’s giving you forbidden gifts, thumbing his nose at the gods, and defying my word. But this will stop. And your disrespect will stop. It will all stop right now!”
     
    TOM awoke with a pounding headache, a bruised ankle, and the startled awareness that he was not dead. He blinked several times, trying to clear his blurred vision, then sat upright in a puddle of water on the cold concrete floor. His marsh grass camouflage was still attached to the back of his skinsuit, but it had been flattened by his sleeping on his back, giving him the appearance of a porcupine on a bad hair day. His vision cleared a little more. He was in a dim tunnel, lit only by a line of red ceiling lights spaced ten feet apart that vanished into the distance. When he coughed, his foot bumped against a metal rail that ran lengthwise down the tunnel. The air smelled damp and musty, and the only sounds were the gentle hum from the rail accompanied by a chorus of chittering rats.
    The wet hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he sensed someone watching him. Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw only more red lights receding into the distance until his eyes adjusted enough to see one of the tall shadows along the wall moving toward him. With his heart pounding, he lurched to his feet to face the enemy.
    “Get a grip on yourself, boy,” said the hooded figure. He spoke with a voice that was deep, precise, and pedantic. “If I’d wanted to hurt you, I would have done it long before now. You were asleep for almost an hour.”
    “Who are you?” Tom demanded, keeping his fists ready just in case.
    The figure stopped a few feet away under one of the red lights. He pushed back the hood of his rough brown cloak to reveal a weathered, bony, old face with sunken eyes, a hawk nose, and a mane of thick white hair that fell like a waterfall from his head to his shoulders. “I’m Magnus Prufrock—legend, scholar, and hermit. And since I’m the one who rescued you from drowning, I’d appreciate a more polite tone of voice.”
    Tom’s frown softened, then a thrill of electricity rippled through his body. Surprised at his reaction, he decided that his recent trauma underwater had left him disoriented. “Magnus Prufrock? I’ve heard of you. Everyone says you’re crazy.”
    He made an expansive gesture.