James Axler – The Mars Arena

A WAVE OF SUDDEN NAUSEA jerked Krysty upright in the raft. She clapped a hand over her mouth and swallowed a ball of bile that had risen to her throat.

“Krysty, my dear,” Doc said, leaning forward to take her free arm, “are you all right?” His face showed concern, his brows pulled tight together.

The woman couldn’t answer; her stomach still rolled. She kept her hand over her mouth as she struggled to the side of the raft. Trees lined the riverbanks on both sides. Jak and Ryan were scouting at the top of the nearby hill to get their bearings.

“Need some help?” Mildred asked.

Hoyle and Bernsen parted and made room for Krysty.

J.B. aimed the Uzi at them, just to let them know they didn’t dare make a move on Krysty or try to take her weapon.

She kept her lips together until she had her head over the raft’s side, then spit, trying to get everything out of her mouth that she could. She shivered, goose bumps pimpling her skin. She felt suddenly drained of strength.

“Krysty,” Mildred said, slipping a hand over her forehead and wrapping an arm around her shoulders to help support her, “what’s wrong?”

“Don’t know.”

“Something you ate?”

“Ate out of the same batch of self-heats as everyone else did. No one else seems sick.”

“You don’t have a fever.”

“I don’t feel hot,” Krysty said. “Just sick. My head hurts, my vision’s blurry and that ringing Do you hear that ringing?” She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth again.

“No ringing. Do you feel dizzy?”

“Some.” She reached into the brackish water, cupped a handful, then smeared it over her face. It cooled her a little, but not enough to take the real edge off the flush she felt.

Mildred continued to support her friend. Without the other woman’s help, Krysty didn’t think she could have stayed up at all. She felt boneless, totally lethargic.

“How’s your hearing?” Mildred asked. She sounded very distant.

“I still hear ringing.” Krysty shook her head to clear her ears but succeeded only in triggering another stomach spasm. She stopped and cupped a second handful of water to splash on her face. When she blinked the droplets from her eyes, she thought she saw something centered in the ripples spreading out from the raft.

Focusing her vision with effort, she breathed shallowly, trying not to put too much strain on her protesting stomach. The image cleared, riding the crest of the wave.

Even as it started to get lost in the distance and the darkness, Krysty recognized it Dean. His face was slack, empty and pale. The boy’s eyes shone dully, like the eyes on people Krysty had seen who had advanced cataracts.

“Oh, Gaia,” Krysty said weakly. The sick feeling slammed into her stomach again, but there was nothing for it to purge. She tried to hang on to the vision, make it clearer so she could see where the boy was. From what she’d been able to glimpse, Dean didn’t appear to be anywhere in the school. He was outside, surrounded by brush, long grass under his head.

“What is it, my dear?” Doc asked.

“It’s Dean,” Krysty said. “He looks dead. Gaia, Doc, he looks dead!”

Chapter Twenty-Five

As quick as it had come, the nausea left Krysty. All she felt now was cold and empty. She wrapped her arms around herself in an effort to keep warm, her teeth chattering.

Mildred took a blanket from one of the backpacks Hoyle and Bernsen had been carrying, then draped it around the woman’s shoulders.

“Oh, Mildred, I saw him. Saw Dean dead,” Krysty said, rocking slightly and trying to clear her head, trying to think.

“Maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

“What?” Krysty asked, looking at the woman.

“I don’t know.”

“Then you can’t say that.”

Mildred’s face hardened. “You just get it together, girl. This is no place for someone who’s lost her head.”

“I know.” Krysty dropped her chin onto her chest and closed her eyes. That was a mistake, because the image of Dean came swirling back into her head, all mixed up with the visions she’d had the day before. “But what else could it be, Mildred? Give me something I can believe in.”