GenesisofShannara3_GypsyMorph - (EPUB全文下载)

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The Gypsy Morph
Genesis of Shannara
Terry Brooks
Ballantine Books New York
FOR ANNE SIBBALD
Agent and friend, the Queen of the Silver River
ONE
WILLS WALKED the empty corridors of Hell, looking for the code. He walked these same corridors every day, all day, searching, thinking that there had to be someplace he had overlooked and that on this day he would find it. But he never did. And knew in his heart that he never would.
It was over. For all of them. In more ways than one. The others were already a long time dead. The entire command, wiped out by whatever virus had wormed its way in, sliding down through the air vents past the filters and cleaners and medico screens and whatever other safeguards the builders had installed all those years ago. They hadn�t all died at once, of course. Eight of them had, and that was now more than two years ago. At least, that�s how long he thought it had been. Time was uncertain. The rest had died one by one, some sickening right away, others staying healthy and providing false hope that a few might survive.
But none of them had. Only him. He had no idea why. He had no sense of being different from the others, but obviously he was. Some small genetic trait. Some antibody peculiar to him. Or maybe he was mistaken and it was just plain old luck. He was alive; they were dead. No sense to any of it. No prize awarded to the last man standing. Just a mystery without a solution.
Abramson and Perlo had been the last to go. If you didn�t count Major whatever-her-name-was. Anders, Andrews, something like that. He couldn�t remember anymore. Anyway, there was never much hope for her. She got sick and stayed sick. By the time she died, she had already been dead for weeks in every way that mattered, her brain fried, memory emptied, mouth drooling. Just lying on the floor making weird sounds and staring at them. Just gibbering about nothing, her eyes wide and rolling, her face all twisted. He would have put a stop to it if he could have made himself do so. But he couldn�t. It took Perlo to do that. Perlo hadn�t harbored the same reservations he had. He hadn�t liked her anyway, he told them. Even when she hadn�t been sick, when she was normal, she was irritating. So it was easy, putting the gun to her head and pulling the trigger. She probably would have thanked him if she could have, he said afterward.
Two weeks later, Perlo was dead, too, shot with the same gun. He�d decided he couldn�t stand the waiting and pulled the trigger a second ............

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