Genesis Echo (Deathlands 25) by James Axler

Dean’s eyes opened, gazing blankly at the tree that hung, suspended, over his head. “Free,” he whispered.

One moment the boy was immovably trapped, the next moment the crushing pressure was removed and Ryan and Jak were able to pull him out.

“All the way,” Ryan panted.

Scrabbling for purchase, they backed away, each holding a slender wrist, heaving the semiconscious lad out of the shadow of the branch. Trader and Abe jumped in to lend a hand and pull him completely clear.

“Let it go!” Mildred shouted. “Krysty! He’s out. Let it go and get out yourself.”

The tall woman, her fiery hair in a tight knot at her nape, stepped back, allowing the branch to slip from her shoulders. It rolled a little, then fell completely free of the main trunk of the fallen spruce. It landed with a terrifying crash on the very spot where Dean’s head had been, narrowly missing Krysty’s own legs.

Ryan had been kneeling by his son, but he stood and started to move to support Krysty.

But he was way too slow as she crumpled like a dead leaf, toppling to the ground on her back, her eyes wide open and staring blankly at the sky.

“She’s fuckin’ chilled herself,” Trader whispered with an almost superstitious awe.

“No,” Jak said. “Just strain.”

Ryan crouched at her side, holding her hand, chafing her wrists. “Happens when she calls on the Gaia power,” he said, speaking more quickly than he’d intended. “Always happens. She’ll be fine in a minute or two.”

Behind him, he was vaguely aware that Dean had started to recover, rolling over onto hands and knees and being noisily, copiously sick.

Mildred put a hand on Ryan’s shoulder and eased him to one side. “Let the dog see the rabbit,” she said. “Need to examine her properly.”

“She’s fine, Mildred.”

Doc’s voice called from the group of watching sec men. “I confess the poor soul looks less than well, though I am no judge of medical matters. As Dr. Wyeth is, of course.”

Krysty hadn’t moved, her face like ivory, her eyes still blank and lifeless. A thread of brilliantly crimson blood inched from her nose and mouth.

Mildred was checking for a pulse. She looked up at Ryan, her face bleak. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

Chapter Eighteen

“No.” Ryan looked down into the lifeless eyes of the woman that he loved above all else in the world. “No, Mildred.”

“There’s no pulse, Ryan. I can try artificial respiration and chest massage. I could even open up”

“I’ve seen her before. The Gaia power takes all her life force. Sucks everything from her. I don’t know how she does it, Mildred, nor does she. Krysty learned it from her mother, and she only uses it in the direst emergency.”

“Like now,” Trader said.

“Yeah. Like now.”

“But the pulse. All the life functions are”

“Take it again, please.”

The woman reached and laid a hand below the angle of Krysty’s jaw, feeling for the carotid artery. She shook her head, the beads rattling, loud in the stillness. “No, I told” Her eyes widened.

“It’s there,” Ryan said flatly. It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. Not as strong as I’d like, but it’s surely there. But it was gone. I’d have certified Krysty as clinically dead. How does she do that?”

“She doesn’t know. Nor do I.”

Ladrow Buford was standing just behind the one-eyed man, nudging him with a bony elbow. “Was that some kind of magic trick?” he asked.

“What? Why don’t you just fuck off out of the way and I’ll come tell you when we’re ready to move on again.”

The scientist persisted. “It was a miracle, Cawdor. I don’t want to cause you trouble, but the work we are doing at the institute would benefit unbelievably! Unbelievably if we could secure the cooperation of Miss Wroth and her powers. Do you think that might be possible?”

Trader took the little man by the scruff of the neck. “You don’t take to telling, do you?” he snarled. “You come with me and we’ll sit quiet together, and I’ll tell you about the time I chilled eighteen swampies with a plastic spoon and six ounces of plas-ex I’d hid up my ass.”