pdouglas.thecodex-第23部分

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orest　where　they　were　hidden。　Tom　could　hear　the　crackle　of　a　walkie…talkie；　the　murmur　of　voices。　The　spotlight　lit　up　the　jungle　around　them　like　a　movie　set…and　then　slowly　moved　on。　Blessed　darkness　returned。　The　sound　of　the　engine　passed　and　grew　fainter。
　Tom　sat　up　in　time　to　see　the　flash　of　the　spotlight　in　the　forest　up　ahead　as　the　boat　went　around　a　bend。　〃They're　gone；〃　he　said。
　Sally　sat　up；　brushing　her　tangled　hair　out　of　her　face。　The　mosquitoes　had　gathered　around　them　in　a　thick；　whining　cloud。　Tom　could　feel　them　everywhere；　in　his　hair；　crawling　into　his　ears；　trying　to　get　up　his　nose；　crawling　down　his　neck。　Each　blow　killed　a　dozen；　instantly　replaced。　When　he　tried　to　breathe；　he　breathed　mosquitoes。
　〃We've　got　to　get　out　of　here；〃　Sally　said；　slapping。
　Tom　began　pulling　dry　twigs　off　the　bushes　around　them。
　〃What　are　you　doing？〃
　〃Building　a　fire。〃
　〃Where？〃
　〃You'll　see。〃　When　he'd　collected　a　pile　of　twigs；　he　leaned　over　the　side　and　scooped　up　some　mud　from　the　swamp。　He　patted　it　into　a　pancake　on　the　bottom　of　the　dugout；　covered　it　with　leaves；　and　then　built　a　small　teepee　of　sticks　and　dry　leaves　on　top。
　〃Match。〃
　Sally　handed　him　a　match；　and　he　lit　the　fire。　As　soon　as　it　was　going　well；　he　added　some　green　leaves　and　twigs。　A　curl　of　smoke　drifted　up　and　gathered　in　the　still　air。　Tom　plucked　a　large　leaf　from　a　nearby　bush　and　used　it　as　a　fan　to　wave　the　smoke　over　Sally。　The　furious　cloud　of　mosquitoes　was　driven　back。　The　smoke　had　a　pleasant　smell；　sweet　and　spicy。
　〃There's　a　nice　trick；〃　said　Sally。
　〃My　father　showed　it　to　me　on　a　canoe　trip　in　northern　Maine。〃　He　reached　up；　yanked　some　more　leaves　off　the　bush；　and　added　them　to　the　fire。
　Sally　took　out　the　map　and　began　examining　it　by　flashlight。　〃It　looks　like　there　are　a　lot　of　side　channels　to　the　river。　I　think　we　should　stick　to　those　until　we　reach　Pito　Solo。〃
　〃Good　idea。　And　I　think　we'll　have　to　pole　from　now　on。　We　can't　risk　using　the　engine。〃
　Sally　nodded。
　〃You　tend　the　fire；〃　said　Tom。　〃I'll　pole；　and　then　we'll　switch　off。　We　won't　stop　until　we　reach　Pito　Solo。〃
　〃Right。〃
　Tom　pushed　the　boat　back　into　the　river　and　poled　close　to　the　flooded　forest；　listening　for　the　motorboat。　Soon　they　came　to　a　small　side　channel　winding　away　from　the　main　one；　and　took　it。
　Tom　said；　〃Somehow　I　don't　think　Lieutenant　Vespán　had　any　intention　of　bringing　us　back　to　San　Pedro　Sula。　I　think　he　planned　to　have　us　fall　out　of　his　helicopter。　If　it　weren't　for　that　missing　part；　we'd　be　dead。〃
　
　19
　
　Fenton　looked　up　into　the　vast　canopy　that　arched　above　his　head　and　noted　that　night　was　falling　in　the　Meambar　Swamp。　With　it　came　the　whine　of　insects　and　a　steamy　miasma　of　rot　that　rose　up　from　the　shivery　acres　of　muck　that　surrounded　them；　drifting　like　poison　gas　among　the　giant　tree　trunks。　Somewhere　in　the　depths　of　the　swamp　he　could　hear　the　distant　shriek　of　an　animal；　followed　by　the　roar　of　a　jaguar。
　It　was　the　second　night　in　a　row　that　they　could　find　no　dry　land　to　camp。　Instead；　they　had　tethered　the　dugout　under　a　group　of　giant　bromeliads　in　the　hope　that　their　leaves　would　help　keep　out　a　steady　rain。　They　did　no　such　thing；　instead　channeling　the　rain　into　streams　that　could　not　be　avoided。
　The　Teacher　lay　in　the　bottom　of　the　dugout；　in　the　rain；　huddled　against　the　heap　of　supplies；　wrapped　in　a　wet　blanket　and　shivering　despite　the　suffocating　heat。　The　cloud　of　mosquitoes　that　enveloped　them　in　a　mewling　fog　was　especially　thick　about　his　face。　Vernon　could　actually　see　them　crawling　about　his　mouth　and　eyes。　Vernon　reached　out　and　spread　some　more　deet　on　his　face；　but　it　was　a　hopeless　task。　If　the　rain　didn't　wash　it　off；　the　sweat　did。
　He　glanced　up。　The　two　guides　were　in　the　front　of　the　boat；　playing　cards　by　flashlight　and　drinking。　They　had　hardly　been　sober　since　the　beginning　of　the　trip；　and　Vernon　was　horrified　to　discover　that　one　of　the　ten…gallon　plastic　jugs　that　he　thought　contained　water　was　actually　full　of　homemade　aguardiente。
　Vernon　hunched　over；　swaying　and　hugging　himself。　It　wasn't　quite　dark；　night　seemed　to　be　ing　very　slowly。　There　was　no　sunset　in　the　swamp：　The　light　went　from　green　to　blue　to　purple　and　then　black。　At　dawn　it　was　reversed。　Even　on　sunny　days　there　was　no　sun；　just　a　deep　green　gloom。　He　felt　desperate　for　a　bit　of　light；　a　breath　of　fresh　air。
　After　four　days　of　wandering　in　the　swamp；　their　guides　had　finally　admitted　that　they　were　lost；　that　they　had　to　turn　around。　And　they　had　turned　the　boats　around。　But　they　only　seemed　to　go　deeper　into　the　swamp。　This　certainly　wasn't　the　way　they　had　e。　The　guides　were　impossible　to　talk　to；　although　Vernon　spoke　Spanish　fairly　well　and　the　guides　knew　some　English；　they　were　often　too　drunk　to　speak　any　language。　For　the　past　few　days；　the　more　lost　they　seemed　to　bee；　the　more　loudly　the　guides　denied　it　and　the　more　they　drank。　And　then　the　Teacher　had　gotten　sick。
　Vernon　heard　a　curse　from　up　front。　One　of　the　guides　threw　down　his　cards　and　staggered　to　his　feet；　rifle　in　hand。　The　boat　rocked。
　〃Cabrón！〃　The　other　one　had　swayed　to　his　feet；　gripping　a　machete。
　〃Stop；〃　Vernon　yelled；　but　as　usual　they　ignored　him。　They　cursed　and　came　together　in　a　drunken　scuffle；　the　rifle　went　off　harmlessly；　there　was　more　grunting　and　scuffling；　and　then　the　two　guides；　none　the　worse　for　their　altercation；　settled　back　down　in　the　boat；　gathered　up　their　spilled　cards；　and　redealt　as　if　nothing　had　happened。
　〃What　was　that　shot？〃　the　Teacher　asked　belatedly；　opening　his　eyes。
　〃Nothing；〃　said　Vernon。　〃They're　drinking　again。〃
　The　Teacher　shivered；　drawing　the　blanket　tighter。　〃You　should　take　away　that　gun。〃
　Vernon　said　nothing。　It　would　be　stupid　to　try　to　take　away　their　gun；　even　when　they　were　drunk。　Especially　when　they　were　drunk。
　〃The　mosquitoes；〃　the　Teacher　whispered；　his　voice　quavering。
　Vernon　squirted　some　more　deet　into　his　hands　and　gently　smoothed　it　over　the　Teacher's　face　and　around　his　neck。　The　Teacher　sighed　with　relief；　gave　a　quick　shiver；　and　closed　his　eyes。
　Vernon　pulled　his　wet　shirt　about　himself；　feeling　the　heavy　rain　on　his　back；　listening　to　the　sounds　of　the　forest；　the　alien　cries　of　mating　and　violence。　He　thought　about　death。　It　seemed　that　the　question　he　had　been　seeking　an　answer　to　all　his　life　was　about　to　be　answered　for　him；　in　an　unexpected　and　quite　horrifying　way。
　
　20
　
　For　two　days；　a　deep　and　protective　cloak　of　mist　lay　on　the　river。　Tom　and　Sally　poled　upstream；　following　winding　side　channels　and　keeping　a　strict　policy　of　silence。　They　traveled　day　and　night；　taking　turns　sleeping。　They　had　little　to　eat　except　Sally's　two　candy　bars；　which　they　rationed；　bit　by　bit；　and　some　fruit　Sally　collected　on　the　way。　They　saw　no　sign　of　the　soldiers　pursuing　them。　Tom　began　to　hope　that　they　had　given　up　and　gone　back　to　Brus；　or　had　gotten　hung　up　somewhere。　The　river　was　riddled　with　sandbars；　mudbanks；　and　sunken　logs　to　hang　up　a　boat。　Waono　had　been　right。
　The　morning　of　the　third　day　the　mists　began　to　lift；　exposing　two　dripping　walls　of　jungle　lining　the　blackwater　river。　Shortly　thereafter；　they　spied　a　house　on　stilts　built　over　the　water；　with　wattle　walls　and　a　thatched　roof。　Beyond　that　a　riverbank　appeared；　with　granite　boulders　and　a　steep　embankment…the　first　dry　land　they　had　seen　in　days。　A　dock　appeared　at　the　water's　edge　like　the　one　at　Brus…a　rickety　platform　of　bamboo　poles　lashed　to　slender　tree　trunks　sunk　in　the　muck。
　〃What　do　you　think？〃　Tom　asked。　〃Should　we　stop？〃
　Sally　stood　up。　A　boy　was　fishing　from　a　platform　with　a　small　bow　and　arrow。
　〃Pito　Solo？〃
　But　the　boy　had　seen　them　and　was　already　running　away；　abandoning　his　rod。
　〃Let's　give　it　a　try；〃　said　Tom。　〃If　we　don't　get　something　to　eat；　we're　finished。〃　He　poled　into　the　dock。
　Sally　and　Tom　jumped　out；　and　the　platform　creaked　and　swayed　alarmingly。　Beyond；　a　rickety　gangplank　led　to　a　steep　dirt　bank；　which　rose　out　of　the　flooded　jungle。　There　was　nobody　to　be　seen。　They　scrambled　up　the　slippery　embankment；　slipping　and　sliding　in　the　mud。　Everything　was　soaking　wet。