Sphere (深海圆疑) 原版小说-第48部分

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Do　something；　he　thought；　feeling　a　surge　of　panic。
But　there　was　nothing　he　could　do。　He　was　locked　in　the　upper　chamber　of　D　Cyl。　He　could　not　get　out。　Beth　had　control　of　the　entire　facility；　and　she　knew　how　to　run　the　life…support　systems。　She　had　shut　off　his　power；　she　had　shut　off　his　heat；　and　now　she　had　shut　off　his　air。　He　was　trapped。
As　the　pressure　fell；　the　sealed　specimen　bottles　exploded　like　bombs；　shooting　fragments　of　glass　across　the　room。　He　ducked　under　the　blankets；　feeling　the　glass　rip　and　tug　at　the　cloth。　Breathing　was　harder　now。　At　first　he　thought　it　was　tension；　and　then　he　realized　that　the　air　was　thinner。　He　would　lose　consciousness　soon。
Do　something。
He　couldn't　seem　to　catch　his　breath。
Do　something。
But　all　he　could　think　about　was　breathing。　He　needed　air；　needed　oxygen。　Then　he　thought　of　the　first…aid　cabinet。　Wasn't　there　emergency　oxygen　in　the　cabinet？　He　wasn't　sure。　He　seemed　to　remember。　。。。　As　he　got　up；　another　specimen　bottle　exploded；　and　he　twisted　away　from　the　flying　glass。
He　was　gasping　for　breath；　chest　heaving。　He　started　to　see　gray　spots　before　his　eyes。
He　fumbled　in　the　darkness；　looking　for　the　cabinet；　his　hands　moving　along　the　wall。　He　touched　a　cylinder。　Oxygen？　No；　too　large…it　must　be　the　fire　extinguisher。　Where　was　the　cabinet？　His　hands　moved　along　the　wall。　Where？
He　felt　the　metal　case；　the　embossed　cover　with　the　raised　cross。　He　pulled　it　open；　thrust　his　hands　inside。
More　spots　swam　before　his　eyes。　There　wasn't　much　time。　His　fingers　touched　small　bottles；　soft　bandage　packs。　＇＇324＇＇　There　was　no　air　bottle。　Damn！　The　bottles　fell　to　the　floor；　and　then　something　large　and　heavy　landed　on　his　foot　with　a　thud。　He　bent　down；　touched　the　floor；　felt　a　shard　of　glass　cut　his　finger；　paid　no　attention。　His　hand　closed　over　a　cold　metal　cylinder。　It　was　small；　hardly　longer　than　the　palm　of　his　hand。　At　one　end　was　some　fitting；　a　nozzle。　。。。
It　was　a　spray　can…some　kind　of　damn　spray　can。　He　threw　it　aside。　Oxygen。　He　needed　oxygen！
By　the　bed；　he　remembered。　Wasn't　there　emergency　oxygen　by　every　bed　in　the　habitat？　He　felt　for　the　couch　where　Beth　had　slept；　felt　for　the　wall　above　where　her　head　would　have　been。　Surely　there　was　oxygen　nearby。　He　was　dizzy　now。　He　wasn't　thinking　clearly。
No　oxygen。
Then　he　realized　this　wasn't　a　regular　bed。　It　wasn't　intended　for　sleeping。　They　wouldn't　have　placed　any　oxygen　here。　Damn！　And　then　his　hand　touched　a　metal　cylinder；　clipped　to　the　wall。　At　one　end　was　something　soft。　Soft　。。。
An　oxygen　mask。
Quickly　he　pushed　the　mask　over　his　mouth　and　nose。　He　felt　the　bottle；　twisted　a　knurled　knob。　He　heard　a　hissing；　breathed　cold　air。　He　felt　a　wave　of　intense　dizziness；　and　then　his　head　cleared。　Oxygen！　He　was　fine！
He　felt　the　shape　of　the　bottle；　gauging　its　size。　It　was　an　emergency　bottle；　only　a　few　hundred　cc's。　How　long　would　it　last？　Not　long；　he　thought。　A　few　minutes。　It　was　only　a　temporary　reprieve。
Do　something。
But　he　couldn't　think　of　anything　to　do。　He　had　no　options。　He　was　locked　in　a　room。
He　remembered　one　of　his　teachers；　fat　old　Dr。　Temkin。　〃You　always　have　an　option。　There　is　always　something　you　can　do。　You　are　never　without　choice。〃
I　am　now；　he　thought。　No　choices　now。　Anyway；　Temkin　had　been　talking　about　treating　patients；　not　escaping　from　sealed　chambers。　Temkin　didn't　have　any　experience　escaping　from　sealed　chambers。　And　neither　did　Norman。
The　oxygen　made　him　lightheaded。　Or　was　it　already　＇＇325＇＇　running　out？　He　saw　a　parade　of　his　old　teachers　before　him。　Was　this　like　seeing　your　life　running　before　you；　before　you　died？　All　his　teachers：　Mrs。　Jefferson；　who　told　him　to　be　a　lawyer　instead。　Old　Joe　Lamper；　who　laughed　and　said；　〃Everything　is　sex。　Trust　me。　It　always　es　down　to　sex。〃　Dr。　Stein；　who　used　to　say；　〃There　is　no　such　thing　as　a　resistant　patient。　Show　me　a　resistant　patient　and　I'll　show　you　a　resistant　therapist。　If　you're　not　making　headway　with　a　patient；　then　do　something　else；　do　anything　else。　But　do　something。〃
Do　something。
Stein　advocated　crazy　stuff。　If　you　weren't　getting　through　to　a　patient；　get　crazy。　Dress　up　in　a　clown　suit；　kick　the　patient；　squirt　him　with　a　water　pistol；　do　any　damned　thing　that　came　into　your　head；　but　do　something。
〃Look；〃　he　used　to　say。　〃What　you're　doing　now　isn't　working。　So　you　might　as　well　do　something　else；　no　matter　how　crazy　it　seems。〃
That　was　fine　back　then；　Norman　thought。　He'd　like　to　see　Stein　assess　this　problem。　What　would　Dr。　Stein　tell　him　to　do？
Open　the　door。　I　can't；　she's　locked　it。
Talk　to　her。　I　can't；　she　won't　listen。
Turn　on　your　air。　I　can't；　she　has　control　of　the　system。
Get　control　of　the　system。　I　can't；　she　is　in　control。
Find　help　inside　the　room。　I　can't；　there　is　nothing　left　to　help　me。
Then　leave。　I　can't；　I…
He　paused。　That　wasn't　true。　He　could　leave　by　smashing　a　porthole；　or；　for　that　matter；　by　opening　the　hatch　in　the　ceiling。　But　there　was　no　place　to　go。　He　didn't　have　a　suit。　The　water　was　freezing。　He　had　been　exposed　to　that　freezing　water　for　only　a　few　seconds　and　he　had　nearly　died。　If　he　were　to　leave　the　room　for　the　open　ocean；　he　would　almost　surely　die。　He'd　probably　be　fatally　chilled　before　the　chamber　even　filled　with　water。　He　would　surely　die。
In　his　mind　he　saw　Stein　raise　his　bushy　eyebrows；　give　his　quizzical　smile。　So？　You'll　die　anyway。　What　have　you　got　to　lose？
＇＇326＇＇　A　plan　began　to　form　in　Norman's　mind。　If　he　opened　the　ceiling　hatch；　he　could　go　outside　the　habitat。　Once　outside；　perhaps　he　could　make　his　way　down　to　A　Cyl；　get　back　in　through　the　airlock；　and　put　his　suit　on。　Then　he　would　be　okay。
If　he　could　make　it　to　the　airlock。　How　long　would　that　take？　Thirty　seconds？　A　minute？　Could　he　hold　his　breath　that　long？　Could　he　withstand　the　cold　that　long？
You'll　die　anyway。
And　then　he　thought；　You　damn　fool；　you're　holding　an　oxygen　bottle　in　your　hand；　you　have　enough　air　if　you　don't　stay　here；　wasting　time　worrying。　Get　on　with　it。
No；　he　thought；　there's　something　else；　something　I'm　forgetting。　。。。
Get　on　with　it！
So　he　stopped　thinking；　and　climbed　up　to　the　ceiling　hatch　at　the　top　of　the　cylinder。　Then　he　held　his　breath；　braced　himself；　and　spun　the　wheel；　opening　the　hatch。
〃Norman！　Norman；　what　are　you　doing？　Norman！　You　are　insa…〃　he　heard　Beth　shout；　and　then　the　rest　was　lost　in　the　roar　of　freezing　water　pouring　like　a　mighty　waterfall　into　the　habitat；　filling　the　room。


The　moment　he　was　outside；　he　realized　his　mistake。　He　needed　weights。　His　body　was　buoyant；　tugging　him　up　toward　the　surface。　He　sucked　a　final　breath；　dropped　the　oxygen　bottle；　and　desperately　gripped　the　cold　pipes　on　the　outside　of　the　habitat；　knowing　that　if　he　lost　his　grip；　there　would　be　nothing　to　stop　him；　nothing　to　grab　onto；　all　the　way　to　the　surface。　He　would　reach　the　surface　and　explode　like　a　balloon。
Holding　the　pipes；　he　pulled　himself　down；　hand　over　hand；　looking　for　the　next　pipe；　the　next　protrusion　to　grab。　It　was　like　mountain…climbing　in　reverse；　if　he　let　go；　he　would　fall　upward　and　die。　His　hands　were　long　since　numb。　His　body　was　stiff　with　cold；　slow　with　cold。　His　lungs　burned。
He　had　very　little　time。
＇＇327＇＇　He　reached　the　bottom；　swung　under　D　Cyl；　pulled　himself　along；　felt　in　the　darkness　for　the　airlock。　It　wasn't　there！　The　airlock　was　gone！　Then　he　saw　he　was　beneath　B　Cyl。　He　moved　over　to　A；　felt　the　airlock。　The　airlock　was　closed。　He　tugged　the　wheel。　It　was　shut　tight。　He　pulled　on　it；　but　he　could　not　move　it。
He　was　locked　out。
The　most　intense　fear　gripped　him。　His　body　was　almost　immobile　from　cold；　he　knew　he　had　only　a　few　seconds　of　consciousness　remaining。　He　had　to　open　the　hatch。　He　pounded　it；　pounded　the　metal　around　the　rim；　feeling　nothing　in　his　numb　hands。
The　wheel　began　to　spin　by　itself。　The　hatch　popped　open。　There　must　have　been　an　emergency　button；　he　must　have…He　burst　above　the　surface　of　the　water；　gasped　air；　and　sank　again。　He　came　back　up；　but　he　couldn't　climb　out　into　the　cylinder。　He　was　too　numb；　his　muscles　frozen；　his　body　unresponsive。
You　have　to　do　it；　he　thought。　You　have　to　do　it。　His　fingers　gripped　metal；　slipped　off；　gripped　again。　One　pull；　he　thought。　One　last　pull。　He　heaved　his　chest　over　the　metal　rim；　flopped　onto　the　deck。　He　couldn't　feel　anything；　he　was　so　cold。　He　twisted　his　body；　trying　to　pull　his　legs　up；　and　fell　back　into　the　icy　water。
No！
He　pulled　himself　up　again；　one　last　time…again　over　the　rim；　again　onto　the　deck；　and　he　twisted；　twisted；　one　leg　up；　his　balance　precarious；　then　the　other　leg；　he　couldn't　really　feel　it；　and　then　he　was　out　of　the　water；　and　lying　on　the　deck。
He　was　shivering。　He　tried　to　stand；　and　fell　over。　His　whole　body　was　shaking　so　hard　he　could　not　keep　his　balance。
Across　the　airlock　he　saw　his　suit；　hanging　on　the　wall　of　the　cylinder。　He　saw　the　helmet；　〃JOHNSON〃　stenciled　on　it。　Norman　crawled　toward　the　suit；　his　body　shaking　violently。　He　tried　to　stand；　and　could　not。　The　boots　of　his　suit　were　directly　in　front　of　his　face。　He　tried　to　grip　them　in　his　hands；　but　his　hands　could　not　close。　He　tried　to　bite　the　suit；　＇＇328＇＇　to　pull　himself　up　with　his　teeth；　but　his　teeth　were　chattering　uncontrollably。
The　inter　crackled。
〃Norman！　I　know　what　you're　doing；　Norman！〃
Any　minute；　Beth　would　be　here。　He　had　to　get　into　the　suit。　He　stared　at　it；　inches　from　him；　but　his　hands　still　shook；　he　could　not　hold　anything。　Finally　he　saw　the　fabric　loops　near　the　waist　to　clip　instruments。　He　hooked　one　hand　into　the　loop；　managed　to　hold　on。　He　pulled　himself　upright。　He　got　one　foot　into　the　suit；　then　the　other。
〃Norman！〃
He　reached　for　the　helmet。　The　helmet　drummed　in　a　staccato　beat　against　the　wall　before　he　managed　to　get　it　free　of　the　peg　and　drop　it　over　his　head。　He　twisted　it；　heard　the　click　of　the　snap…lock。
He　was　still　very　cold。　Why　wasn't　the　suit　heating　up？　Then　he　realized；　no　power。　The　power　was　in　the　tank　pack。　Norman　backed　up　against　the　tank；　shrugged　it　on；　staggered　under　the　weight。　He　had　to　hook　the　umbilicus…he　reached　behind　him；　felt　it…held　it…hook　it　into　the　suit…at　the　waist…hook　it
He　heard　a　click。
The　fan　hummed。
He　felt　long　streaks　of　pain　all　over　his　body。　The　electrical　elements　were　heating；　painful　against　his　frozen　skin。　He　felt　pins　and　needles　all　over。　Beth　was　talking…he　heard　her　through　the　inter…but　he　couldn't　listen　to　her。　He　sat　heavily　on　the　deck；　breathing　hard。
But　already　he　knew　that　he　was　going　to　be　all　right；　the　pain　was　lessening；　his　head　was　clearing；　and　he　was　no　longer　shaking　so　badly。　He　had　been　chilled；　but　not　long　enough　for　it　to　be　central。　He　was　recovering　fast。
The　radio　crackled。
〃You'll　never　get　to　me；　Norman！〃
He　got　to　his　feet；　pulled　on　his　weight　belt；　locked　the　buckles。
〃Norman！〃
He　said　nothing。　He　felt　quite　warm　now；　quite　normal。　〃Norman！　I　am　surrounded　by　explosives！　If　you　e　＇＇329＇＇　anywhere　near　me；　I　will　blow　you　to　pieces！　You'll　die；　Norman！　You'll　never　get　near　me！〃
But　Norman　wasn't　going　to　Beth。　He　had　another　plan　entirely。　He　heard　his　tank　air　hiss　as　the　pressure　equalized　in　his　suit。
He　jumped　back　into　the　water。

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