博炮作文网

第48部分（第1页）

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　couldnt　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。　Wasnt　there　emergency　oxygen　in　the　cabinet？　He　wasnt　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　wasnt　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。　Wasnt　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　wasnt　thinking　clearly。

No　oxygen。

Then　he　realized　this　wasnt　a　regular　bed。　It　wasnt　intended　for　sleeping。　They　wouldnt　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　ccs。　How　long　would　it　last？　Not　long；　he　thought。　A　few　minutes。　It　was　only　a　temporary　reprieve。

Do　something。

But　he　couldnt　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　didnt　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　Ill　show　you　a　resistant　therapist。　If　youre　not　making　headway　with　a　patient；　then　do　something　else；　do　anything　else。　But　do　something。〃

Do　something。

Stein　advocated　crazy　stuff。　If　you　werent　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　youre　doing　now　isnt　working。　So　you　might　as　well　do　something　else；　no　matter　how　crazy　it　seems。〃

That　was　fine　back　then；　Norman　thought。　Hed　like　to　see　Stein　assess　this　problem。　What　would　Dr。　Stein　tell　him　to　do？

Open　the　door。　I　cant；　shes　locked　it。

Talk　to　her。　I　cant；　she　wont　listen。

Turn　on　your　air。　I　cant；　she　has　control　of　the　system。

Get　control　of　the　system。　I　cant；　she　is　in　control。

Find　help　inside　the　room。　I　cant；　there　is　nothing　left　to　help　me。

Then　leave。　I　cant；　I…

He　paused。　That　wasnt　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　didnt　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。　Hed　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？　Youll　die　anyway。　What　have　you　got　to　lose？

＇＇326＇＇　A　plan　began　to　form　in　Normans　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？