The Demon Plagues Read Online Free PDF Page A

she could take the pain, and look
somewhat normal in her uniform.
    A bottle of ibuprofen went in as well, and a
few other odds and ends. Then she sealed it up and put it in her
rucksack. Wet suit on next, a stylish blue and green never intended
for clandestine work, but it was all she had. Then the scuba gear
she had brought to use – she thought – for recreation, her combat
knife, and a rucksack strapped in reverse to sit over her belly.
Lastly the swim fins, reconfigured to fit her regenerating
stumps.
    Levering herself up to the rail, she looked
out between the slats at the two ships, now visible mainly by their
navigation lights. Earlier she had seen hovercraft embarking and
disembarking out of the combat well at the back of the LPD. Now she
could see a strobe and running lights from a helo landing on the
flight deck at the rear, one of a continuous droning above and
around the ships. She had seen Hornet and Lightning naval fighters
high overhead earlier in the day, so there was a supercarrier out
there somewhere too, running combat air patrol.
    She took several deep breaths, wondering if
she was making the biggest mistake of her life. Hell, there’s an
old Corps saying : ‘The worst plan executed quickly and
violently is better than the best plan not executed at all.’
    It was far better to do something than to do
nothing.
    Facemask and regulator on, she hoisted
herself up to the railing, looked at the thirty feet to the water,
and launched over the rail like a gymnast. Balling up, she wrapped
herself around the rucksack, holding her hands to her face to
shield the delicate apparatus from the impact. The sea struck her
like a cold wet fist, and she fought to stay out of sight below the
surface, fought to get the mouthpiece settled and clear it of
water. For a moment she just floated beneath the waves, recovering
her breath.
    Then she began the long swim.
    She navigated by lights from the ships. At
first she steered by the brilliant glare of the bright cruise ship
behind her, easy enough to see through the water above her head.
All she had to do was keep going directly away. A half hour later,
when she couldn’t see it any more, she cautiously broke the surface
to get her bearings and adjust.
    Her stomach was already complaining; she
rolled over on her back and pulled a plastic coffee can out of a
rucksack pocket, gulping down the cold spaghetti and meatballs
packed inside, shoving it into her mouth with her fingers. It was
the best she could come up with for eating on the trip; she hoped
she had enough food. A half-liter of water followed.
    The surface swim seemed interminable; even
with the fins, she estimated it would take four to six hours. The
critical variable was the hunger, the thing she'd had to learn to
live with and manage for the last few days. How often would she
have to stop, how much would she have to eat – would her food and
water run out? She laughed to herself at the idea of being thirsty
in the ocean.
    Eating every thirty minutes, she burned
calories at a prodigious rate.
    The answer came after three hours. Ingraham was far to her rear; she had bypassed it by a good
mile, having no desire to be spotted and caught. It appeared that
no one had even considered the possibility that someone would swim away from their floating prison, particularly not in
the direction of their captors. But now she’d eaten the last of the
food outside the waterproof bag. It looked like about an hour to
the LPD. She wished she could ditch the scuba tank, but she might
need it at the other end.
    A half hour later her gut demanded food
again, and she didn’t have anything accessible to give it. If she
opened the waterproof bag, she would flood everything inside with
seawater – the food and her uniform in particular. She clamped down
on the discomfort, bringing the discipline of a lifetime of
triathlon into play. Pain is just weakness leaving the body. No
pain, no gain – no pain, no brain. Pain is a feeling, and