He was afraid.
Then, with a tremendous effort he turned his thoughts on God, and waited for death.
He was swimming in that black fury-sea that was neither wet nor clinging. He was made of lead in a universe that weighed nothing. He was sinking, sinking. In vain he struggled. The dark, dry waters closed over him....
Still the waterfalls pounded in his ears, and still the dry waves reeled before his eyes, and under his head a pool, sticky and warm.
What was that? This time surely something tangible and real moving towards him. With a supreme effort he tried to jerk his body into moving. His left leg moved. It moved wearily; but still it moved. His left arm too.
What was this?
The right arm and leg were gone, gone.
The rest of him was flabbergasted at the horror of the discovery.
No, not gone! They were there. But they would not move. He could not even try to move them. He could not so much as feel them.