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Back Vostok Save as PDF
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover Page
  2. VOSTOK
  3. Copyright Page
  4. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  5. Dedication
  6. PROLOGUE
  7. Part OneThe Beginning…
  8. 1
  9. 2
  10. 3
  11. 4
  12. 5
  13. 5 months later …
  14. 6
  15. 7
  16. 8
  17. 9
  18. 10
  19. 11
  20. 12
  21. 13
  22. 14
  23. 15
  24. 16
  25. 17
  26. 18
  27. 19
  28. 20
  29. 21
  30. 22
  31. 23
  32. 24
  33. Part TwoEndings…
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 32
  43. 33
  44. 34
  45. 35
  46. 36
  47. 37
  48. 38
  49. Part ThreeBefore the Beginning…
  50. 39
  51. 40
  52. 41
  53. 42
  54. EPILOGUE

I closed my eyes, comforted by my rescuer’s knowledge of the biochip, my body convulsing in the twenty-nine-degree water.

Two minutes.

120 seconds.

119… 118… 117…

Coherent thought goes hand in hand with core temperature. Stray too high or too low and you start to lose it. You start to die. In a battle of neurological functions, my mind fought to maintain a foothold of sanity as my hypothalamus struggled to control my body’s internal thermostat.

It takes a lot to overcome this almond-sized super-organ, but subfreezing water is its kryptonite, the effects rapid and catastrophic. Within seconds of submerging, my brain had ordered the capillaries in my skin to squeeze out the blood, pushing it inward to help maintain my core temperature, and thereby inflicting horrendous pain upon my pinched extremities in the process. My muscles tightened and contracted as hypothermia swept through my body. For the first minute my muscles fought back using high-speed involuntary contractions, but the heat generated through shivering required more blood, which accelerated the drop in core temperature.

100… 99… 98…

The muscles in my face were fluttering. The diver noticed and clamped his hand over my mouth to keep the regulator in place.

95… 94… 93…

My hypothalamus continued hoarding resources, the organ willing to sacrifice a few pawns and knights to save the king. My thoughts dulled, my mind slipping into a stupor.

90… 85…

23…

My oxygen-starved brain struggled to keep me awake. Urine seeped into the canister, my flooded kidneys overwhelmed by an influx of fluids.

Just a quick nap…

The diver shook me awake.

What was a scuba diver doing in my bathroom stall?

Timpani drums throttled my chest as my heart became arrhythmic and limited the oxygen to my brain. I turned to my right and saw True.

“Relax, lad. Him that’s born to be hanged will never be drowned.”

“You big lummox. I’m not drowning, I’m freezing to death!”

“Aye. But yer not swinging from a rope, are ye?”

Suddenly my skin was on fire.

“True, help me! I’m burning up!”

“Nothing I can do, lad. Yer hypothalamus has blown a fuse. Paradoxical undressing, it’s called. Yer brain’s last-ditch attempt at saving yer arse. Look at ye, yer blue as a fish. Ye haven’t even got a pulse. Yer not alive, but yer not quite dead either. Better pray yer rescuers ken enough tae warm ye slowly, or yer constricted capillaries will reopen all at once and cause a sudden drop in blood pressure that will send yer heart into ventricular fibrillation.”

32

“True, are you here to take me to heaven?”

“If need be. For now, jist close yer eyes.”

32

“How do you know I’m mad?” asked Alice.
“You must be,” said the Cat, “or you wouldn’t have come here.”

—Lewis Carroll

I rode a wave of pain to consciousness but refused to open my eyes, afraid to see what monster was chewing on my extremities.

And then the monster spoke.