cc.iceberg-第50部分
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dka。〃
A grin touched the corners of Pitts lips。 〃Don't misread my intentions。 Since I'm already taking a short walk to the corner liquor store； I merely thought I'd save you the trip。〃 Then； before the unprehending Russian could reply； Pitt turned and began climbing the embankment toward the top of the ravine。
Cautiously at first； a few inches at a time； trying to move at a pace that favored his cracked ribs； Pitt clawed at the soft； slippery earth and pulled himself upward without looking in any direction except straight ahead。 The first twenty feet were easy。 Then the slope steepened and the soil became more firm； making it difficult to dig the shallow hand and toeholds which afforded his only source of support。
The climb itself became a purgatory； unctuated by the agony of his injuries。 All emotion had drained away； his movements became mechanical； dig and pull； dig and pull。 He tried to keep count of each foot gained but lost track after thirty； his mind totally void of all mental function。
He was like a blind man moving through the daylight in a blind world； and the only sense he still possessed was the sense of touch。 Then for the first time fear came to him…not fear of falling or fear of injury； but the honest； cold fear of failing over twenty people whose lives depended on his reaching that line between earth and sky that seemed so far above him。 Minutes passed that seemed like hours。 How many？ He didn't know； would never know。 Time as a means of measurement no longer existed。 His body was simply a robot going through repeated motions without the benefit of constant mands from the mind。
He began counting again； only this time he stopped at ten。 Then one minute of rest； he told himself； no more； and he began again。 His breath was ing in heaving gulps now； his fingers were raw； the ends of the nails jagged and spotted with blood； his arm muscles aching from the continuous effort…a sure sign his body was about spent。 Sweat trickled down his face； but the irritating tickle could not be felt through 'his agonized flesh。 He paused and looked up； seeing little through the swollen slits that were his eyes。 The edge of the ravine blended into a nebulous line of angles and shadowy profiles that defied any judgment of distance。
And then suddenly； almost with a sense of surprise； Pitts hands found the soft； crumbling edge of the slope。 With strength he didn't think was possible； he pulled himself up onto flat ground and rolled over on his back； laying inert and to all appearances； dead。
For nearly five minutes； Pitt lay rigid； only his chest moving with the pulsating rise and fall of his breath。 Slowly； as the waves of total exhaustion receded to a level of sufferable tolerance； he pulled himself to his feet and peered into the bottom of the narrow chasm at the tiny figures below。 He cupped his hands to yell； then decided against it。 There were no words he could think of to shout that had any meaning； any encouragement。 All the people below could see was his head and shoulders over the level of the steep cliff。 Then with a wave of the hand； he was gone。
Chapter 17
Pitt stood like a solitary tree on a great empty plain。 A dark green mosslike vegetation spread in every direction as far as he could see； edged on one horizon by a range of high hills and cloaked by a sun…whitened mist on two others。 Except for a few small rises dotting the desolate landscape； most of the ground was nearly flat。 At first he thought he was pletely alone。 But then he saw a tiny snipe that soared across the sky like a dart in search of an unseen target。 It came closer； and from a height of two hundred feet it circled and looked down at Pitt； as if curiously inspecting the strange animal that stood out so vividly in red and yellow plumage against the center of the unending green carpet。 After three cursory sweeps； the little bird's inquisitiveness waned and it fluttered its wings against the air and continued on its seeming flight to nowhere。
As if perceiving the bird's thoughts； Pitt stared down at his offbeat clothing and murmured vaguely to himself； 〃I've heard of being all dressed up with no place to go； but this is ridiculous。〃
The sound of his voice suddenly woke him up to the fact that his mind was working again。 He felt the relief that was due from overing the exhausting climb from the ravine； the high elation of being alive and the hope of finding help before the people below died from the near…freezing temperatures。 Jubilantly he struck out across the tundra toward the distant hills。
Fifty feet； no further； that was as far as Pitt got when it abruptly hit him。 He was lost。 The sun was high above the skyline。 There were no stars to guide him。
North； south； east and west were words that meant nothing； had no definition in terms of measurement or accuracy。 Once he entered the mist that was crawling across the land toward him； he would have no guideline； no landmarks to take a sight on。 He was lost； adrift without any sense of direction。
For once that cold； damp morning； he didn't feel the grip of fear。
It wasn't that he knew fear would cloud his thoughts； confuse his reasoning。 He was consumed with sharp anger that he should have been so beautifully tricked into placency； so ignorantly unaware that he was stumbling to his death。 Every contingency； the puters of Hermit Limited； his arch…enemy； had mechanically figured on every contingency。 The stakes were too high in the murderous game that Kelly； Rondheim and their group of incredibly ruthless business associates were playing。 But he swore to himself that he wasn't going to be forced to land on Boardwalk and pay a rent he couldn't afford without passing Go。 He stopped； sat down and took stock。
It didn't take any great ingenious deduction to determine that he was sitting somewhere in the middle of the uninhabited part of Iceland。
He tried to remember what little he had learned about the Eden of the North Atlantic； what few facts he bad absorbed when studying the flight maps on board the Catawaba。 The island stretched one hundred ninety miles from north to south； he recalled； and nearly three hundred miles from east to west。 Since the shortest distance between two points was north and south； the other two directions were eliminated。 If he traveled south； there was every possibility that he would run onto the Vatnajbkull ice mass； not only Iceland's but Europe's largest glacier； a great frozen wall that would have signaled the end of every thing。
North it was； he decided。 The logic behind his decision bordered on the primitive； but there was another reason； a pelling urge to outsmart the puters by traveling in the direction least expected； a direction that offered the least obvious chance of success。 The average man in similar circumstances would have probably headed toward Reykjavik； the largest sprawl of civilization； far to the west and south。 That is undoubtedly； he hoped； what the puters had been programmed for…the average man。
Now he had an answer； but it was only half an answer。 Which way was north？ Even if he knew for certain； he had no means to follow it along a straight line。
The accepted fact that a man who was right…handed would eventually make a great arc to his right without any landmarks to guide him； came back to haunt Pitts thoughts。
The whine of the jet engines interrupted his reverie and he looked up； holding his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the cobalt blue sky； sighting a mercial airliner cruising serenely ahead of its long white contrails。 Pitt could only wonder at the aircraft's course。
It could have been heading anywhere： west to Reykjavik； east to Norway； southeast to London。 There was no way to tell for certain unless he had a pass。
A pass； the word lingered in his mind； savored like the thought of an ice…cold beer by a man dying of thirst in the middle of the Mojave Desert。 A pass； a simple piece of magnetic iron mounted on a pivot and floating in a mixture of glycerin and water。 Then a light suddenly clicked on deep in the recesses of his brain。 A long…forgotten bit of outdoor lore he'd learned many years before d
