Kingdom Of The Nanosaurs (trilogy)

Kingdom Of The Nanosaurs - chapter 22

PART FOUR

22. Village of the damned

Morgan’s mouth was filled with the acrid taste of bile and earth. He was wet and uncomfortable and could smell the pungent scent of damp grass as he lay face down on the ground. A fine rain was falling and icy drops trickled down his face in little rivulets. He became aware of two things simultaneously. The first was the burning pressure of the Cosmic Algorithm that seemed to be communicating with him and jogging him into consciousness. The other was an icy pain in his left arm which was as stiff as a board and ached with a throbbing persistence.

He tried to move but at first his body would not respond to his instructions. He coughed and spat out a mixture of mud and grass, grimacing and trying to swallow to unlock his tightened throat. Eventually, he was able to raise himself on his side and then, with great effort, finally sat up and looked around. His body was wracked with aches and felt like it had been spun in a washing machine or pounded by heavy weights or squeezed and half strangled by a mad giant.

He was sitting in the middle of a field somewhere in the country. Great, tumbling rain clouds buffeted each other across a heavy sky and an angry breeze bristled with blustery menace as it swirled and raced across a grey misty landscape. Directly ahead of him, across several muddy fields choked with weeds and rocks, Morgan could see the dim lights of a small village and beyond it a jumble of jagged cliffs and then the open sea. Even from this distance Morgan could see breakers rolling in and he could just make out the vague shapes of several ships further out.

The pain in his arm had intensified. He looked at it and was shocked and frightened. A savage wound had ripped and scarred his flesh. It was deep and ugly with a layer of congealed blood and pus that had coalesced into a discoloured scab covering his entire upper arm which was puffed and swollen. He noticed with alarm that the bruising seemed to be spreading and with it an unnatural numbness. Gingerly, he touched his arm. It was as frozen and unresponsive as a piece of dead meat. He could feel nothing except a creeping paralysis that could be destroying his cells as it spread. Morgan swallowed hard. He felt suddenly very small and very vulnerable. No amount of super memory would prevent him losing his arm. He had to get to a doctor. That was his first instinct. But something told him no earthly doctor would know how to cure this injury. He could remember being somewhere terrifying and he remembered a grotesque being and a black, obsidian sword. How he had got there or how long he had been there he could not remember: just as he did not have a clue as to his present whereabouts.

He gazed around him. The field he was sitting in was large and sloped down to a country road. Behind it stretched up towards the horizon fringed by trees and hedges. To the left he could just make out some distant hills and the occasional light.

To the right he could see the others. His heart lifted. He wasn’t alone. About one hundred yards away he saw the prone figure of Lin lying face up in the grass. Further on, Winston had somehow got himself entangled in the branches of a young beech tree.

Standing up and watching them all was Tom Wheeler. His clothes were in tatters and he was covered in mud and grass. He smiled at Morgan but it was a weak, watery sliver of a smile as he tried to focus and pull himself together. He seemed to be a little unsteady on his legs and he was taking deep breaths to try and stabilise himself.

When he spoke, his voice croaked. He coughed and tried again.

“Morgan,” he whispered. “Are you all right?”

Morgan made an attempt to stand but after a couple of tries sat back down again. Somehow he found it funny and began to laugh hoarsely. “I’m okay, I think,” he called back but his voice was as flimsy as a dandelion in a breeze. He made another attempt to rise, putting all his weight on his right hand. He felt a little giddy but managed to get to his knees. Tom was walking over to him. As he arrived, Morgan finally tottered to his feet. His short bitter laugh hid his frustration and annoyance. With a huge effort and helped by Tom, he struggled to stay on his feet and stood there unsteadily.