p&c.thunderhead-第93部分

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e　knew　she　would…her　silhouette　would　make　a　perfect　target。　
　Her　thoughts　drifted　briefly　to　Black；　sick　and　alone；　waiting　for　her　back　at　the　kiva。　She　tried　to　ready　herself　for　what　was　to　e。　Once　this　business　was　done；　she　could　quickly　drag　Nora　down　to　the　river。　In　seconds；　the　current　would　sweep　her　into　the　narrow　meat…grinder　of　a　canyon　at　the　far　end　of　the　valley。　And　when　Nora's　body　reached　the　Colorado　River…eventually…there　wouldn't　be　enough　left　for　a　postmortem。　It　would　be　the　same　as　if　Nora　had　been　washed　out　by　the　flash　flood　in　the　first　place…as；　by　all　rights；　she　should　have　been。　No　one　would　know。　And　then；　of　course；　she'd　have　to　do　the　same　to　Smithback。　Sloane　closed　her　eyes　a　moment；　unwilling　to　think　about　that。　But　there　was　no　longer　any　choice：　she　had　to　finish　what　the　flood　had　failed　to　do。　
　Resting　both　elbows　on　the　ground；　Sloane　eased　the　pistol　forward；　balancing　it　with　both　hands。　Then　she　settled　down　to　wait。　
　
　
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　AARON　BLACK　LAY　IN　THE　KIVA；　CONFUSED　and　horribly　frightened。　The　fitful　glow　of　the　dying　lamp　still　faintly　illuminated　the　close；　dusty　space。　But　Black's　eyes　were　shut　fast　against　the　darkness；　against　the　overwhelming　evidence　of　his　failure。　It　seemed　that　hours　had　passed　since　Sloane　had　left；　but　perhaps　it　was　only　minutes：　it　was　impossible　for　him　to　tell。　
　He　forced　his　gluey　eyes　open。　Something　terrible　was　happening；　perhaps　it　had　been　ing　on　for　a　while；　and　now　that　the　fevered　digging　had　given　way　to　crushing　disappointment；　it　was　upon　him　at　last。　Perhaps　the　air　was　bad。　He　needed　to　get　out；　breathe　some　fresh　air。　He　mustered　the　energy　to　rise；　staggered；　and　with　astonishment　felt　his　legs　buckle。　
　He　fell　back；　arms　flailing　weakly。　A　pot　rolled　crazily　around　him　and　came　to　rest　against　his　thigh；　leaving　a　snake's　trail　in　the　dusty　floor。　He　must　have　tripped。　He　tried　to　rise　and　saw　one　leg　jerk　sideways　in　a　spastic　motion；　muscles　refusing　to　obey。　The　lantern；　canted　sideways；　threw　out　a　pale　corona；　suffused　by　dust。　
　From　time　to　time；　growing　up；　Black　had　been　tortured　by　a　recurring　nightmare：　he　found　himself　paralyzed；　unable　to　move。　Now；　he　felt　that　he　was　living　that　nightmare。　His　limbs　seemed　to　have　grown　frozen；　unwilling　or　unable　to　respond　to　his　mands。　
　〃I　can't　move！〃　he　cried。　And　then；　with　a　sudden　terror；　he　realized　he　hadn't　been　able　to　articulate　the　words。　Air　had　e　out　of　his　mouth；　yes…an　ugly　splutter；　and　he　felt　saliva　dribbling　down　his　chin…but　no　words　came。　He　tried　again　and　heard　once　more　the　ugly　choking　rush　of　air；　felt　the　refusal　of　his　tongue　and　lips　to　form　words。　The　terror　increased。　In　a　spasm　of　panic；　he　struggled　unsuccessfully　to　rise。　Weird　shapes　and　writhing　figures　began　crowding　the　darkness　beyond　his　eyes；　he　turned　to　look　away；　but　his　neck　refused　to　move。　Closing　his　eyes　now　only　caused　the　shapes　to　spring　to　greater　definition。　
　〃Sloane！〃　he　tried　to　call；　staring　up　into　the　cloudy　dimness；　afraid　even　to　blink。　But　not　even　the　splutter　of　air　came　now。　And　then　the　lantern　flickered　again；　and　went　black。　
　He　tried　to　scream；　but　nothing　happened。　Sloane　was　supposed　to　be　bringing　medicine。　Where　was　she？　In　the　close　darkness；　the　hallucinations　were　all　around　him；　babbling；　whispering：　twisted　creatures；　grinning　skulls；　teeth　inlaid　with　bloody　carnelians；　the　clinking　of　skeletons　moving　restlessly　around　the　kiva；　the　flickering　of　fires　and　the　smell　of　roasting　human　meat；　the　screams；　the　victims　gargling　their　own　blood。　
　It　was　too　terrible。　He　could　not　close　his　eyes；　and　they　burned　with　an　internal　pressure。　His　mouth　was　locked　open　in　a　scream　that　never　came。　At　least　he　still　recognized　the　shapes　around　him　as　hallucinations。　That　meant　he　wasn't　too　far　gone　to　tell　reality　from　unreality　。　。　。　but　how　unspeakably　dreadful　it　was　to　not　feel　anything；　not　to　know　any　longer　where　his　limbs　were　lying；　whether　or　not　he　had　fouled　himself；　to　lose　some　profound　internal　sense　of　where　his　body　was。　The　panic　of　paralysis；　that　dream…fear　out　of　his　worst　nightmares；　washed　over　him　yet　again。　
　He　couldn't　understand　what　had　gone　wrong。　Was　Nora　really　dead？　Was　he　himself　also　dying；　in　the　horrible　darkness　of　this　kiva？　Had　Sloane　and　Bonarotti　really　been　inside　the　kiva　with　him？　Perhaps　they　were　going　to　Aragon　for　help。　But　no…Aragon　was　dead；　like　Nora。　
　Aragon；　Smithback；　Nora　。　。　。　and　he　had　been　as　guilty　of　their　deaths　as　if　he　had　pulled　the　trigger。　He　hadn't　spoken　up；　down　there　in　the　valley。　He'd　let　his　own　desire　for　immortal　fame；　for　that　ultimate　discovery；　get　the　better　of　him。　He　groaned　inwardly：　clearly；　nobody　would　e　to　help；　after　all。　He　was　alone　in　the　darkness。　
　Then　he　saw　another　light；　very　faint；　almost　indivisible　from　the　darkness。　It　was　acpanied　by　a　rustling　sound。　His　heart　surged　with　fresh　hope。　Sloane　was　returning　at　last。　
　The　light　grew　stronger。　And　then　he　saw　it；　through　the　film　of　his　sickness：　fire；　strangely　disembodied；　moving　through　the　darkness　of　the　kiva；　dropping　sparks　as　it　went。　And　carrying　this　burning　brand　was　a　hideous　apparition：　a　single　figure；　half…man；　half…animal。　
　Black　fell　into　renewed　despair。　Not　a　rescue。　Just　another　hallucination。　He　wept　inwardly；　he　wailed　in　his　mind；　but　his　eyes　remained　dry；　his　body　flexed　and　immobile。　
　Now　the　apparition　was　ing　toward　him。　He　smelled　juniper　smoke；　mixed　with　the　ripe；　sweet　scent　of　morning　glories；　he　saw　in　the　flickering　light　the　glittering　black　of　an　obsidian　blade。　
　Distantly；　he　wondered　where　such　an　image；　where　such　an　unexpected　scent；　could　have　e　from。　Some　grotesque　recess　of　his　mind；　no　doubt；　some　dreadful　ceremony　that　perhaps　he'd　read　about　in　graduate　school；　long　forgotten　and　now；　in　the　extremity　of　his　delirium；　resurrected　to　haunt　him。　
　The　figure　bent　closer；　and　he　saw　its　blood…stiffened　buckskin　mask；　eyes　fiery　behind　the　ragged　slits。　Surprisingly　real。　The　coldness　of　the　blade　on　his　throat　was　astonishingly　real；　as　well。　Only　a　person　who　was　as　gravely　ill　as　he　was；　he　knew；　could　hallucinate　something　so　。　。　。　
　And　then　he　felt　the　unyielding　knife　blade　trace　a　hard　cold　line　across　his　neck；　felt　the　abrupt　wheeze　of　his　own　air；　the　gush　of　hot　blood　filling　his　windpipe；　and　he　realized；　with　transcendent　astonishment；　that　it　was　not　a　hallucination；　after　all。　
　
　
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　SLOANE　WAITED；　EVERY　MUSCLE　TENSED；　LISTENING　with　rapt　concentration。　There　was　a　break　in　the　storm；　and　the　rain　had　slowed　to　an　occasional　patter。　Cupping　her　watch　to　shield　the　glow；　she　briefly　illuminated　it：　almost　ten　thirty。　The　sky　had　broken　into　patches　of　light　as　tattered　clouds　swept　past　a　gibbous　moon。　Still；　it　was　mostly　dark…dark　enough　for　a　person　to　think　she　could　creep　into　camp　unobserved。　
　She　shifted；　rubbing　her　elbows。　Once　again；　she　found　herself　wondering　what　had　happened　to　Swire　and　Bonarotti。　No　one　had　appeared　at　the　mouth　of　the　city。　And　they　obviously　weren't　in　camp。　Perhaps　they'd　never　left　Quivira　in　the　first　place；　and　were　even　now　back　in　the　kiva；　watching　over　Black。　In　any　case；　it　was　best　they　were　not　around。　Nora　couldn't　hide　forever。　Soon；　she　would　be　ing　for　Smithback。　
　Sloane　returned　her　gaze　to　the　tent　and　its　thin；　small　glow；　like　a　canvas　lampshade　in　the　center　of　the　dark　landscape。　The　camp　remained　still。　Concentrating　on　dismissing　all　irrelevant　noise；　she　waited；　ready　to　distinguish　the　sound　of　Nora's　approach　from　the　distant　rush　of　the　swollen　creek。　Ten　minutes　went　by；　then　fifteen。　The　moon　fell　once　more　behind　ragged　clouds。　The　rain　came　on　again；　acpanied　by　distant　thunder。　It　was　more　difficult　than　she　could　have　imagined；　waiting　here　like　this；　gun　in　hand。　She　felt　an　undercurrent　of　rage：　partly　at　Nora；　but　partly　at　her　father。　If　he　had　trusted　her；　put　her　in　charge　of　the　expedition；　none　of　this　would　have　happened。　She　suppressed　the　sweep　of　dread　that　came　over　her　as　she　contemplated　what　was　about　to　happen…what　she　was　being　forced　to　do。　
　She　forced　her　thoughts　back　toward　the　limitless　wonder