Bermuda Triangle Read Online Free

medical help.
    He needed a
psychiatrist.

6. Angels
    "You don't
believe me?"
    Hanlon shook his
head, a mute denial rather than an outright lie.
    The doctor
entered the room, remaining on the other side of the plastic barrier. He put on
one glove. "Sorry to interrupt, sir. This came in for you." His hand
came through.
    "Excuse me,"
Hanlon said. Turning his back to the sick man, he read in the doctor's exacting
cursive script, Need any help?
    With a grateful expression,
Hanlon scribbled a reply: Send a transmission. Get me everything there is on
a seaman third class from Scorpion named Jacob Swann.
    He folded the
note and handed it back to the doctor. "Make that urgent," he said. The
doctor nodded, stripped off his protective glove, and put it in the yellow bin.
He washed his hands and left the room, closing the door behind him.
    "You were
saying?"
    With a bold
stare the man said, "I was talking about angels."
    Captain Hanlon
didn't even blink. "Right."
    Swann took a
deep breath. "You see, the angels, they can fly. Once I got out of that
hole I could fly too. It's something to do with gravity there. Everything was
as light as a feather. It was hell coming back -- back here to Earth, I'm so
Goddamned heavy." He glared at Hanlon. "You can understand that, can't
you? I used to have muscles. You think I was always this puny?"
    Hanlon shook his
head. Impossible as it seemed, Swann's story made sense. There was no medical
explanation for his debilitated state. Even a few weeks of low gravity would account
for muscle atrophy and loss of bone density.
    "I was scared
at first. Me, Jake Swann, afraid! Afraid of angels . Makes you laugh, don't
it?" His laughter held a definite hysterical note. For a moment Hanlon thought
Swann might break into tears again.
    "The people
were naked -- you don't need clothes. And they all had white wings -- wings with
real feathers, growing right out of their shoulders. They don't speak. They could
talk inside my head -- I don't know how, but I talked to them that way, too-- pretty
weird at first, but you get used to it."
    Hanlon frowned.
Jake Swann took deep audible breaths every few words. He couldn't seem to get
enough air.   
    "There was a
black hole inside the cave," Swann wheezed. "It was an incredible
thing, a big dark nothing. It pulled at me -- shit, it was bitter cold! I felt
the chill from where I stood, a good ten feet away. The angels said if I fell
in I'd go to Hell. They didn't use that word -- they communicate mind to mind --
it's hard to explain -- but I knew what they were talking about. I could
believe it, too."
    Swann's words shot
like rapid fire, his breath ragged as he struggled for air. "The leader --
a skinny guy with -- a white beard, argued with one of the women -- I shouldn't
have come -- he kept saying I -- should be thrown down the hole -- back to Hell
where I belonged -- one woman, Lana, disagreed -- said if I was here -- God had
sent me for a reason -- White Beard said -- I hadn't been sent by God -- I'd
been sent by the Devil -- said they would be sorry -- if they didn't drop me
down the hole to Hell."
    All this talk of
hell was a trigger, Hanlon realized. Swann was over excited, eyes bright, skin
flushed. He looked terrible. "Maybe we should take a break," Captain
Hanlon said with a soothing voice that disguised his concern. With an easy grin
in his eyes he quipped, "You look like you're ready for your afternoon
nap."
    Swann began to
cough and Captain Hanlon became overly solicitous. He took his time, offering tissues
and water, encouraging him to drink. He contrived as long an interlude as
possible, curbing Swann's fevered narration. A corpsman came in, and gave Swann
medication via a nebulizer. He checked his vital signs, making careful
notations in his chart. By the time the corpsman left Jake Swann was breathing
easier.
    "I want to
get this off my chest," Swann said, resting back against the pillows. "They
decided I could stay. Lana led me out of the cave and into the