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Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

A caring hand strokes my forehead tenderly. Compassionate eyes peer down at me, filled with worry. Sad and beautiful eyes, deep and glittering with purpose. “Jack. Can you hear me?”

I don’t have the strength to speak, so I answer her telepathically: Yes, Eko.

Thank God! You’ve been out for three days. Twice I thought I’d lost you.

P.J.?

You had a concussion. Busted ribs. By the time I pulled you out, you’d swallowed half the river.

Where’s P.J? Did you save her, too?

Focus on yourself. You’ve just had a brush with death. Are you hungry? Do you think you can keep down solid food?

It takes a tremendous effort, but I suck in a breath and open my mouth and the words explode out: “Is she here? Did you save her?”

“I could only save you.”

“No!”

“Yes. It’s vital that you live. You are the beacon of hope.”

“Let me die.” Sinking back into a pit of darkness, craving a drink of oblivion from Lethe, and a one-way ticket to the shadowy shores of Hades.

61

61

Movement, always forward. Downriver. I can feel the tug of the current. Eko, where are we going?

The only way left to us. Rest.

Never a woman given to long explanations. Silent, sad, mysterious.

Turn us around. We have to search for P.J.

No, Jack. We have to continue on. Trust me.

Even telepathy is draining. I’m still in pain, half floating in darkness.

I don’t trust you.

You should. I care for you deeply.

Then take me back to the falls. Help me find P.J.

Impossible. Rest.

Something tart squeezed between my lips. Berries.

The bandages over my ribs being changed.

Leaves are tucked under my head like a soft pillow.

The soothing voice singing to me. Not in English. Sounds like Japanese.

My dreams take me to a place I visited once before.

A diamond-shaped valley surrounded by cliff walls. Four mighty rivers spilling down in a succession of great cascades, hissing into the same boiling cauldron.

A lush island floats in the center of this whirlpool, a jungle Eden. I glimpse towering trees and pink flowers as big as umbrellas. Giant men are on the island, too—I see their shadowy faces. They’re unmoving, unblinking.

One gaunt face is much larger than the rest. It could almost be just a wind-chiseled crag. Insects crawl over it, birds circle it, and flowers bloom near it, as if they all find the essence of vitality in its lifeless repose.

Someone is watching me. A keenly intelligent gaze. Human eyes! Vaguely familiar and spooky. Ghoul-like. Egyptian mummy eyes, encased in a sand-dry face.

The face is ancient, but the eyes are childlike.

I hear music! Flutes, rattles. And human voices, chanting hypnotically.

That wise old face leans closer.

“Who are you?” I ask. “What do you want from me?”

The old lips open. One word. “Destiny.”