And I held astronaut Peters by the hand.
Chapter twenty. Part three.
The girl woke up all night in the bushes in the dark agony. They were looking for her, no doubt about it. She eagerly drank the icy voices brought to her by the wind and walked along the road. Her face had the charm of the moon, pensive craters of eyes filled with love for Allen, she could think of nothing but him, Allen, oh God, Allen, she couldn’t kick him out of her mind as she became in love, wherever she looked everything reminded her of him. Gorgeous white neck, and then, everything else, who wouldn’t want to be a woman? -You thought. Her heart was beating so violently, so violently, so violently, she put her hand on him and felt him, her heart beating, put her hand in and suddenly you feel alive — she told herself — but she knew how it would end.
His hot, hot lips.
She knew she would never see Allen again. It was still despair here. Allen yesterday in the woods. She will return from the darkness, grow into a man and be with her, he will be with her until her head is spinning. Like I’m spinning now.
A gray dawn full of harsh voices crept around. They were looking for her. She saw a figure named Freedom disappear into the trees.
And the birds roared.
When they caught up with her, they knocked her to the ground and then the three of them rushed at her. Fainted.
The treacherous moon cast their shadows across the forest. The girl’s throat screams. The sound of her wounded heart sounded like Death was gnashing its teeth.
She didn’t know how long it took. When she opened her eyes, she was somewhere else and all three were dead. Their bodies lay torn around.
I stood over her and smiled. There was nothing else to do. The leaves rustled, the forest roared in silence, the divers down by the river made such disgusting sounds that for a moment I thought I had mistaken the coordinates of space-time. I took her with me. Here, she will like it here. The moon rose over the jagged rock, illuminated the contours of the ruins, and she looked at me.
I snapped my fingers in front of her eyes and disappeared into another story.
Then, as I pondered aboard the starhisp Surf, what might stop me, I realized that one thing would be there.
The thought of being trapped in a story, in a book consumed by fire, frightened me so much that I left everything, set the dispenser to two tablets, poured Dead Sea salt into the tub, opened the tap, and disappeared in the clouds of steam.
Can I survive this?
Can we all survive?
End of the twentieth chapter.