"Dean Wesley Smith - VOR 03 - Island of Power" - читать интересную книгу автора (Smith Dean Wesley)

“Oh, come on,” Stephanie said, giving his arm a squeeze. “Let’s just enjoy a little of the night and not
think about anything for a few minutes.”

She let go of his arm and headed down the beach, her small flashlight making sure of the path ahead of
her.

He followed, staying close in the darkness, not turning on his larger light, but using hers for his guide as
well. His feet sank with every step into the soft sand. He could feel the grains flowing in over the top of
his boots and grinding through his socks. By the time he and Stephanie had gone the hundred meters
south to a small alcove of sand, rocks, and driftwood, he was limping. Both boots felt at least a couple of
kilos heavier.

Stephanie dropped down into the sand near the bottom of a steep dune facing out over the dark ocean.
Then she clicked off her flashlight. Hank stopped to sit on a log a few steps away and started untying his
boots. At least here the wind wasn’t numbing his ears and face. And he could almost hear himself think,
even with the pounding surf just down the beach.

His eyes had grown accustomed enough to the faint light to see that she was staring out over the ocean,
her chin resting on her pulled-up knees.

“I love it out here,” she said. “It makes me forget all my cares.”

Hank didn’t answer. Again, it didn’t actually work that way for him.Most of the time he just kept right
on worrying no matter where he was.

He left his boots untied and moved over to sit down beside her. She instantly leaned against him, resting
her head against his chest while continuing to look out over the ocean.

He put his arm around her. Though they’d been together for six months, they were rarely alone together.
In their work in the underground research bunker, they were surrounded by hundreds of other scientists
also working there.

“That’s nice,” she said, snuggling against him.

He had to agree. It was.Very nice, actually.
They sat there, listening to the wind and the roaring surf for what seemed like a long time, saying nothing,
not even moving. Sometimes moments were just meant to be left that way, Hank thought, and this was
one he would always remember.

Suddenly Stephanie sat upright, pulling out of his grasp and pointing out over the ocean.

He saw it, too.

The surface of the ocean was now visible before them, as if lit from above. He could see the pounding
waves, the black rocks, the wind-whipped whitecaps.

“What’s causing that?” he asked.

“Not a clue,” she said.