Читать книгу Reborn - Vin Ph.D. Jackson - Страница 18

Whump!! Sudden impact. And Mireille was flying backwards in time at incredible speed. Then she'd stopped and it was like a dream, because what she could see was alien - she was on a bed in a room with curtains for walls. And her head was thumping fit to burst. Bringing up a hand to cradle it, she felt a stab of pain from her wrist and looked. A clear tube extended from beneath a square of tape stuck to an arm that wasn't hers - a man's arm! A female voice was saying something, but before she could interpret the words, she was flying through the Void again.

More words, this time deeper - a man's voice. And a shadow looming above her, a silhouette against a pink light. The voice cursed her and she recognised it. "LaRoche?"

He stood over her, fuming. "You had to interfere, didn't you?"

"What happened?"

"You touched me, damn it! Just when I was about to receive it!" One fist was clenched in anger, the other gripping the hilt of the sabrette tightly. He turned on his heel, strutted a few paces, then stomped back. "I could kill you, Mireille. I honestly could."

She was utterly confused. "I don't understand."

LaRoche was bemoaning his fate to no-one in particular. "I felt it coming. I know it would have been wonderful. It was mine." He glared down at her. "And you took it away!" He kicked the dirt like a spoilt child. Then clenched his teeth and swung wildly with the sabrette, taking off the top of a stunted tree.

Mireille struggled to her feet, looked around for her own weapons. Not that she really expected to have to defend herself, but he seemed pretty close to his limit of being simply pissed off. A glint of polished metal caught her eye and she went for it. But as she stooped, LaRoche's boot appeared and trod the blade into the sand. "Leave it!"

She backed up a metre. "This is bullshit, LaRoche! I'm not your enemy. I didn't do anything to you. Whatever it is you think you lost, I haven't got it. Search me." She spread arms from her sides and waited.

The anger regressed to pained acceptance: he was the only sane man in an insane world. With a sad shake of the head, he turned and began walking off into the bush.

As she hunted in the scrub for her other sabrette, Mireille thought seriously about leaving LaRoche to his own devices, but she felt she ought to tag along. She told herself it was about looking out for him like she'd promised the old recorder, but that was an excuse. She needed to feel close to another human being and he was all she had. Like there was someone else once - a man, she thought, one she'd known intimately. But he'd gone and left a terrible emptiness. What really concerned her was that she couldn't remember anything about him. Or anything before just now.

She began trooping after LaRoche, giving him space. What had happened back there? He must have hit her. It was the only explanation that made sense. But why? According to him he was having an aberration and she'd interrupted it. Maybe next time he should hang up a sign.

He did. And she was so pre-occupied with her own thoughts that she almost missed it. LaRoche, however, was on the ball and ready for her. He was standing astride, his sabrette raised ready to strike. And he had that crazed look of expectation and excitement again. "Don't come any closer," he rasped, then closed his eyes and seemed to be fighting for breath. "If you try to touch me this time, I'll kill you! I won't be robbed again....!"