"Jody Lynn Nye - The Grand Tour" - читать интересную книгу автора (Nye Jody Lynn)

buoyant, as if he walked underwater every day. Probably he did. Chuck hopped and paddled after him,
hoping to catch up before his air ran out. The section of water-filled corridor seemed to stretch from an
oversized fish tank to a river. He ran and ran, never getting close enough to hail Keir.
When his lungs could no longer squeeze any oxygen out, ChuckтАЩs vision closed into a narrow black
tunnel. All his muscles quivered like rubber bands, refusing to hold on. ChuckтАЩs knees gave way. He
stumbled to the ground. The breath rushed out of him in a burst of bubbles. This was it. He would die
in his sleep. Unwillingly, he gasped, and snorted in surprise. Instead of the inward wash of water he
expected to fill his lungs, the water was as permeable as air. If it was a little warmer and more humid
than his last breath, he found it just as sustaining. Chuck was so relieved he stopped in his tracks to
pant. Women in veiled, velvet hats, Victorian brocade and bustles and the hairy faces of goats pushed
around him, and shot him looks of annoyance.
тАЬSorry,тАЭ he muttered, and picked himself up to run after Keir.
***
тАЬLook for what you think belongs to you!тАЭ Keir shouted over the rumble of the baggage carousel.
Chuck hopped up and down, trying to see over the shoulders of the throng surrounding the
conveyor belt. It ran for miles all over the beige-painted stadium-sized chamber, up toward the ceiling,
down into depressions and pits. People crowded three and four deep at every loop. Uniformed porters
with two-wheeled carts and stevedores running with sweat hauled suitcases off the rumbling belt and
swung them around, where they were promptly seized by someone, yet the mob never got any smaller.
Chuck scanned the astonishing array of cases, boxes and containers rolling by. Most of them were
black, many travel-scarred in some way. None of them looked familiar.
тАЬMine wonтАЩt get lost, will it?тАЭ he asked anxiously.
тАЬOh, no,тАЭ Keir assured him. The spirit guide stood at a slight remove from the crowd, untouched by
the bustle. тАЬYouтАЩll have all the baggage you came with, moreтАЩs the pity.тАЭ
Chuck watched as the porters helped a man take dozens of huge, matching brick-red suitcases off
the conveyor belt. They strapped most of them to his back and legs with rope and sturdy belts. The last
remaining case they put into his arms. The man staggered away, looking like a one-person depot.
Chuck worried that heтАЩd be as overloaded.
Something hit him in the knees. To his surprise, heтАЩd moved all the way up to the metal bumper
surrounding the river of luggage just as a teal-blue carryall caught his eye. That was his, he knew it! So
was the blue steamer trunk behind it. He was glad and relieved to see them. With difficulty he hauled
the two pieces off, then snagged a few small, mismatched document cases rolling by that looked too
familiar not to examine. Yes, he was sure those belonged to him. He couldnтАЩt read the tags, but his
hands seemed to know every scar and nick as he ran a loving hand over their surfaces. Oh, heтАЩd had
these for a long time. He couldnтАЩt recall how he knew that, but he knew. He felt an attachment, even an
affection for them.
Chuck waited fruitlessly for a while, staring at the rolling conveyor belt, and decided that this was
all the luggage he had coming. He wasnтАЩt as badly off as he could have been. He glanced at the people
around him, some dealing with ten, twenty, even three dozen pieces. As he turned away from the
barrier, an anxious, tawny-skinned man in a sarong and a woman in a fussy red and black dress and
high heels with a poodle crowded in past him to take his place.
The steamer trunk had tiny wheels on its underside. Chuck piled the other boxes on top of it, and -
attempted to push it out of the crowd. It didnтАЩt budge. None of the wheels wanted to go in the same
direction. No matter how hard he tried, it would not roll forward, or in any other direction. He looked
around for a porter. The entire uniformed cadre seemed to be at the far ends of the room. Chuck
waved, but no one even glanced his way. He didnтАЩt dare leave his bags to go get their attention. If he
wanted his luggage moved, he was going to have to lift it bodily. He stooped, gathered the whole mass
in his arms, and stood up. A small part of his mind told him what he was doing was impossible, but he
quashed the thought. He was doing it, wasnтАЩt he? The mass was heavy but not unbearable. Chuck
tottered through the churning mob of people toward the waiting Keir. A low bump in the floor caught