"James Rollins - Subterranean" - читать интересную книгу автора (Romeyn Henry)

"Fine. They shot him full of antibiotics and painkillers."

Ben set down his plate. "That was one bloody weird creature."

She shrugged and spoke around a mouthful of beans. "I was talking to Linda. She said their main food
source was a type of prehistoric lobster, and these waters are teeming with crustaceans of various types.
So I suppose, in this isolated environment, the squid survived on similar food."

"Makes you wonder."

"About what?"

He nodded across the camp, where Michaelson had disassembled his rifle into small metal parts and
inspected and cleaned each item. "What else has survived down here?"

That night, Ben had the dream again. He was walking through the cavern of his childhood nightmares, full
of columns that sprouted fruit-bearing limbs. Light suffused from all directions, and as he wandered
through the grove, something seemed to be drawing him forward, calling to him.

"Hello," he hollered into the empty cavern. "Who's there?"

Drawn toward the north side of the cavern, he tried to follow the song of the invisible sirens, but the
trees crowded closer, blocking his passage. Unable to squeeze between the columns any farther, he
could only peer past the trunks.

The north face of the cavern glowed with a soft light, except for a single black hole in the wall. A small
cave, like the dwellings found near Alpha Base.

"Is anyone there?" he called, his face pressed between two trunks.

No answer. He waited, pushing against the trunks as if he could shift the rocky columns. As he watched,
someone crawled from the small cave, on wrinkled hands and gnarled knees. The old man stood into the
light, dark face painted with yellow and red stripes, dressed in a loincloth. The figure waved him forward.

Ben stretched out an arm, struggling to pass between the trunks of stone. "Grandfather!"

With a start, Ben jolted awake, bathed in sweat. He sat up on his air mattress. Only a single lantern
illuminated the sleeping camp. Villanueva, who sat on a rock, raised a glance toward him. The SEALs
had insisted on posting guards; after the squid incident, no one had argued.

Settling back into bed, Ben rolled over, his back to the light. The dream echoed in his mind, as if
bouncing off the rock walls around him. He still felt a vague pull, a drive to continue deeper into the maze.
He squeezed his eyelids closed.


TWELVE
"C'MERE," BEN CALLED TOASHLEY. "LOOK AT THIS."

Wiping her hands on the seat of her coveralls, she crossed over to Ben. "What did you find?" After three
days on this trek into unmapped territory, she was getting used to Ben's continuous chatter. He was