Chapter 125

           

           RobertLangdonwasnolongerfalling.

           Therewasnomoreterror.Nopain.Noteventhesoundoftheracingwind.Therewasonlythesoftsoundoflappingwater,asthoughhewerecomfortablyasleeponabeach.

           Inaparadoxofself-awareness,Langdonsensedthiswasdeath.Hefeltgladforit.Heallowedthedriftingnumbnesstopossesshimentirely.Heletitcarryhimwhereveritwashewouldgo.Hispainandfearhadbeenanesthetized,andhedidnotwishitbackatanyprice.Hisfinalmemoryhadbeenonethatcouldonlyhavebeenconjuredinhell.

           Takeme.Please…

           Butthelappingthatlulledinhimafar-offsenseofpeacewasalsopullinghimback.Itwastryingtoawakenhimfromadream.No!Letmebe!Hedidnotwanttoawaken.Hesenseddemonsgatheringontheperimeterofhisbliss,poundingtoshatterhisrapture.Fuzzyimagesswirled.Voicesyelled.Windchurned.No,please!Themorehefought,themorethefuryfilteredthrough.

           Then,harshly,hewaslivingitallagain…

           Thehelicopterwasinadizzyingdeadclimb.Hewastrappedinside.Beyondtheopendoor,thelightsofRomelookedfartherawaywitheverypassingsecond.Hissurvivalinstincttoldhimtojettisonthecanisterrightnow.Langdonknewitwouldtakelessthantwentysecondsforthecanistertofallhalfamile.Butitwouldbefallingtowardacityofpeople.

           Higher!Higher!

           Langdonwonderedhowhightheywerenow.Smallpropplanes,heknew,flewataltitudesofaboutfourmiles.Thishelicopterhadtobeatagoodfractionofthatbynow.Twomilesup?Three?Therewasstillachance.

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