Floatfever

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     Thomas was getting thirsty now.

     Whatever this strange illness was, his whole body was now so dehydrated that nothing could stop him feeling the thirst. His mouth was dry. His tongue was furry and swollen. His limbs had begun to shake uncontrollably and his head was such a haze of pain that every thought was an effort. Just looking at the others was enough to tell him that they were in an equally bad condition, and even Lirenna was beginning to complain of headaches again.

     It wouldn’t be long now, he knew, and the final symptoms of dehydration kept going around and around in his head like echoes in a vast, empty chasm. Convulsions, coma and death. The words became an endless litany being spoken by a maniac voice, whispering them over and over in gleeful, sadistic humour. Convulsions, coma and death. Convulsions, coma and death. He wanted to shout to shut it up.

     He sucked on his jacket again, trying to get the last little bit of moisture from it. He’d pressed it against the moss and ferns lining the tunnel, hoping it would soak up the thin film of moisture that covered everything, but he’d succeeded only in getting it a little damp and it was hardly worth the effort to suck it out. Jerry had tried putting leaves in his mouth and chewing the moisture out of them, but the juices caused an irritating reaction in his mouth, making him retch and throw up. Thomas stared around in frustration at the glisteningly damp foliage all around them, thinking that there must be gallons of water in this stretch of tunnel alone if only there was enough gravity to make it settle into puddles, and the sheer irony of it was almost driving him out of his mind. They were going to die of thirst in an environment damp enough for ferns to grow in!

     “I don’t think I can keep going much longer,” rasped Diana weakly, hanging limply onto a lichen covered branch. “I’m so tired.”

     Shaun, who was in almost as bad a condition, went over and took her by the shoulders. “We’ve got to,” he told her fiercely. “There may be water just around the next corner. We’ve got to keep going.”

     “I’ll try,” said the cleric, making a heroic effort to find new strength. “It may be my Lady’s will that we die here, but I’ll keep going as long as I can.”

     “What’s the point?” demanded Matthew however. “The next tunnel will be exactly the same as this one, and the one after that and the one after that. We’re not going to find any water here. Maybe we should go back to where the gravity is. There’ll be pools of water…”

     “They'll catch us and they’ll kill us,” insisted Shaun, getting angry now. “We keep going. You think I don’t feel as bad as you do? We keep going, do you hear?” A wave of dizziness hit the young soldier, though, and he was left blinking and shaking his head until it passed. “We keep, we keep going. We’ve got to.”

     “You can't go any further,” said Lirenna however. “You’re in no fit state. You stay here and I’ll go on alone.”

     “You can’t go on alone,” protested Thomas. “It’s too dangerous. There might be more cats, more of those burrowing creatures.”

     “But wasn’t that the whole point of my drinking all the water?” pointed out the demi shae. “So that I could go on when the rest of you couldn’t? Well, we’ve reached that point now. It’s time for me to go on alone.”

     “She’s right,” agreed Jerry. “We’re just slowing her down. She’ll have a much better chance on her own. If she can find the moon trogs and bring them back here...”

     “Yes, the moon trogs are our only hope,” agreed Lirenna. “We’re not going to accomplish anything going on the way we have been. Our only hope is to find the moon trogs.”

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