"Monica Hughes - Devil On My Back" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Monica)

The joist was slippery with grease. The smell was even stronger now he was on the inside. He
was in darkness, except for a thread of light from the sides of the not-quite-shut flap. A very long way
below he could hear the sound of running water.
Tomi crouched in the stinking darkness for what seemed like hours. After a while his thigh
muscles became an agony of red-hot cramps. Bearing that pain without screaming out loud took a lot of
his attention. Now and then he whimpered softly.
Suddenly the door was thrown open with a crash that echoed around the huge kitchen. Tomi
jumped and almost slipped from his greasy perch. He heard running feet and the confused sound of many
voices. Had they come for him? And what would they do when they found him missing?
Very cautiously he raised himself a few centimeters so that he could peer through the tiny slit
between the frame and the flap of the garbage chute. The kitchen was full of slaves. The nearest stood so
close to him that he could have reached out and touched the man's coarse tunic. They all held knives, and
the faces of those he could see were full of fear and anger.
Tomi shrank down. What was happening? Were the slaves winning, or was this their final
retreat?
Almost immediately his question was answered. A powerful voice echoed through the kitchen.
"Ahoy. We know you're in there. Resistance is useless. Drop your weapons and come out one by one
with your hands up. You will not be harmed if you obey."
A jeering laugh greeted this last remark.
"Why don't you come and make us?" A voice suggested. There was a chorus of agreement. Then
silence. Unbearable silence. What was going on?
Slowly Tomi hauled his fat body up to take another look. The slaves stood alert, their eyes on the
door. The knives looked wickedly sharp.
I should warn the soldiers, thought Tomi. But if I do they'll haul me out and cut my throat. I'd
better be quiet. After all, they're trained to know what to do. He waited tensely. His heart was beating so
loudly it was amazing that the slave standing close to the chute didn't hear it.
A woman's voice cried out in fear. A hand pointed at the air exchange grille above the stoves.
The slaves crowded back. Tomi could see a faint greenish mist drifting across the room and slowly
settling on the floor.
Sleeping gas! Good for the soldiers. In a minute the whole rebel gang would drop to the floor
and he could climb out. A shower! A meal!
An intense sweetness filled his nose and mouth, blotting out the smell of rotting vegetables and
sour grease.
Oh, no! He tried to hold his breath. His eyes felt as if they would pop out of his head. He
couldn't possibly go on holding it long enough. Desperately he pushed up the flap and threw his body
through the opening. His fat stomach caught the bottom of the frame, he gasped, inhaled and slowly
sagged. He had a foggy glimpse of the kitchen, slaves staggering, falling, prone on the floor. His armpits
caught on the frame for a second, but the weight of his body pulled him down.
"Help...!"
He fell, the way you fall in a dream, for an incredible distance. Then he was vaguely aware of a
jolting blow to his legs. He was sliding rolling falling very fast along a wet slope. The noise was
overwhelming. Crashes, echoes, pounding water. It was absolutely dark.
With a shock he was hurled into a world of brilliant white. He was flyingтАФno, he was falling
againтАФthrough the air. Then a white mass as hard as concrete rose up and smacked the wind out of him.
He was struggling in icy water. Under water, greenish grey. Up again. Choke. Gasp. His hands and legs
were making feeble pawing movements through the water. He saw brilliant light again, gasped for air and
choked. A wave slapped into his open mouth and he went under.

3
The River