D. Keith Mano
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In the near future humanity has tired of its miserable life so much that a fanatical government decides to give earth back to nature. While all around Dominick Priest humanity is either commiting suicide or being killed by fanatics, the hero struggles overland toward his home village, not really knowing what awaits him there. On the way there, including during the crossing of the name-giving storm-tossed suspension bridge, he slowly goes mad and becomes the prophet of a new religion that embraces life - perhaps a bit too much..
around worked into the shin-high rubber boot, then flexed his ankle. his small toes swathed elastic He restrictive: unwrapped the more evenly over foot, around leg. Priest stood. He walked parallel to the viaduct's debris. Some stan- chions had remained upright, holding crow's nests of the old roadway. Priest hurried. He water had made him hungry. sucked his stone. The left south, appeared corroded halfway up: The staircase, broken river on the was steel braced
metal supports. Priest smiled, then touched his check. He was afraid of heights. Priest gazed downtown along Eighth Avenue. He could smoke see three miles into the city, to the wall. At its base the smoke was more active, darker, producing there a braid He of perfect billows. could not see flame. Priest's vision was good; he had never developed the red/green color blindness endemic since the E-diet. Creeper had drifted in comers of Eighth Avenue. Building walls appeared to slouch
inside. front of watched them, mesh eyeholes It hands into he had found seemed natural now; The two parking lots were His progress remained res- secret, a hun- suggested above only in delicate shiftings of Canada thistle and cornflower. The weeds were set with Japanese beades— cheap, bumished- metal jeweling. After twenty minutes he rose on knees cautiously at the first trough's base. E-diet ran in a needle trickling; rust stained the green/gold. mask and hood. The bag. Priest
Saliva troubled his tongue. again, for the initial he felt bloated, afraid to popping bursts had llie He swallow. dis- spat again and And he had gas: startled him. Priest jumped, He thought Priest amus- looked behind. Xavier Paul laughed. ing. Priest talked about Mary. He kept slightly ahead of Xavier Paul, torso turned three-quarters backward, as into head winds. It was useless—his coherent under the plastic the efi&cacy of speech. The mask—but He commented lips if
bonds tition. hand: another botde mirror was old, smoky. surface, droplets of its mercury Nacre rainbows edged them. glass slides. buffed in front of his face with one hand; the mist, he thought, was imitated from the room's wiped, but not mimicking now, Priest lifted the tity. The him. He made to air. mimic. wine botde. Yet he had bottle did not strike. Xavier was The He hand hiccuped. superstitions of iden- Paul stood behind Counterfeiting play, Priest taller.