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Diving for bodies was not one of Scott Markman’s favorite things. He gazed across the open water at the big orange ball creeping up over the forest horizon. A passing Florida breeze rippled the glassy lake-top and caused swirls within the fading layer of fog lingering at the water’s surface. Markman found himself wishing he were somewhere else. Kneeling awkwardly on the flexible, black bottom of the rubber boat, he wormed the new regulator mouthpiece back into his sore mouth and sucked test air from the fresh aluminum tank. With his left hand he wiggled the black wrap-around mask down. | The Virtual Dead by E.R. Mason Copyright 1994 All Rights Reserved All characters in this book are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All references to The Dragon Masters or Slantian Industries represent fictional characters and are in no way representative of any real world businesses groups clubs or organizations. CHAPTER 1 Diving for bodies was not one of Scott Markman s favorite things. He gazed across the open water at the big orange ball creeping up over the forest horizon. A passing Florida breeze rippled the glassy lake-top and caused swirls within the fading layer of fog lingering at the water s surface. Markman found himself wishing he were somewhere else. Kneeling awkwardly on the flexible black bottom of the rubber boat he wormed the new regulator mouthpiece back into his sore mouth and sucked test air from the fresh aluminum tank. With his left hand he wiggled the black wrap-around mask down over his wet face and kept a gentle grip as he pushed over backward and splashed into the lake. Cool water seeped into the waistband of his suit. Exhaust bubbles gurgled loudly as he rose to the surface and squeezed the side of the raft s inner tube. He stared through the protective lens across the flat top of the calm water. Other divers were searching at different points along the way. No one had found a thing. The old man had wandered away from the care of his family and had been missing all night. To everyone s dismay he had last been seen standing on the quaint wooden bridge that crossed the narrow portion of this picturesque country mere. Since the elderly man often suffered severe bouts of dementia the divers feared they indeed might find him. Markman slipped back beneath the surface to the lonely darkness that lay below. He arched over and pushed down into the unknown keeping one hand outstretched in distrust of the limited visibility. The lake was as deep as lakes went in the area fifty feet in some places and .
