cc.floodtide-第89部分

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　Pitt　slipped　a　dive　mask　over　his　head　and　picked　up　an　air　tank。　〃I've　got　to　get　across　the　canal　before　they　cast　off。　You　take　the　skiff　and　wait　for　me　a　hundred　yards　beyond　the　plantation。〃
　〃Let　me　guess。　You're　going　to　take　your　little　dive　knife　and　slash　the　hell　out　of　the　hovercraft's　inflatable　skirt。〃　Pitt　grinned。　〃If　it　leaks；　it　won't　lift。〃　〃What　about　the　AUV？〃
　〃Keep　it　submerged。　It　might　be　worth　seeing　what　kind　of　trash　they　throw　in　the　canal　in　front　of　their　quarters。〃
　
　In　ten　seconds　Pitt　was　gone。　He　eased　into　the　water　without　making　a　sound　or　a　splash；　while　at　the　same　time　strapping　on　the　air　tank　and　its　backpack。　He　had　already　kicked　twenty　feet　from　the　boat　before　he　inserted　the　regulator　in　his　mouth　and　began　breathing　underwater。　After　leveling　out；　he　quickly　got　his　bearings　and　swam　across　the　canal　toward　the　lights　flickering　on　the　water　in　front　of　the　plantation。　The　mud　on　the　bottom　below　looked　dark　and　forbidding；　and　the　water　itself　was　tepid　as　a　bathtub's。　Pitt　swam　aggressively；　his　arms　out　in　front　forming　a　V　to　reduce　water　resistance；　kicking　his　feet　and　fins　as　hard　and　fast　as　his　leg　muscles　would　allow。
　
　A　good　diver　can　sense　the　water　as　an　animal　senses　a　change　in　weather　or　the　presence　of　a　predator。　The　brackish　water　of　the　canal　had　a　warm　and　friendly　feel　to　it；　nothing　like　the　sinister　and　malignant　force　he　experienced　in　the　deep　cold　of　Orion　Lake。　His　only　fear　now　was　that　one　of　the　security　guards　might　glance　out　into　the　canal　and　see　his　air　bubbles；　a　possibility　he　didn't　think　likely　because　they　were　wrapped　up　in　preparing　to　attack　the　shantyboat　and　had　no　time　to　stare　at　the　water　surface　above　Pitt　for　even　half　a　second。
　
　The　light　became　brighter　underwater　as　he　neared　the　source。　Soon　the　shadow　of　the　hovercraft　loomed　ahead。　He　was　certain　it　was　loaded　and　the　crew　was　aboard　to　launch　the　search　and　attack。　Only　the　lack　of　sound　told　him　the　engines　had　yet　to　start。　He　swam　harder；　determined　to　stop　the　hovercraft　before　it　hurtled　from　the　dock。
　
　From　his　vantage　point　across　the　canal；　Giordino　began　to　have　grave　doubts　that　Pitt　would　reach　the　hovercraft　in　time。　He　cursed　himself　for　not　working　harder　on　the　return　trip　so　they　might　have　arrived　earlier。　But　then；　how　could　he　have　known　the　guards　were　preparing　to　assault　the　shantyboat　before　daylight？　He　kept　in　the　shadows　and　paddled　the　skiff　slowly；　so　no　sudden　movement　would　be　caught　by　the　men　on　the　other　side　of　the　canal。　〃Do　it！〃　he　muttered　under　his　breath　as　if　Pitt　was　in　earshot。　〃Do　it！〃
　
　Pitt　felt　a　growing　numbness　from　overexertion　in　his　arms　and　legs；　his　lungs　gasping　from　fatigue。　He　gathered　his　waning　strength　for　a　final　surge；　a　last　effort　before　his　exhausted　body　refused　his　demands。　He　couldn't　believe　he　was　killing　himself　to　save　a　dog　that　he　swore　was　bitten　by　a　tsetse　fly　when　a　pup　and　suffered　from　chronic　sleeping　sickness。
　
　Abruptly；　the　light　from　above　faded　and　he　swam　into　a　dark　hole。　His　head　broke　the　surface　just　inside　the　flexible　sleeve；　called　a　skirt；　that　contains　the　cushion　of　air　and　suspends　the　hovercraft。　He　floated　for　several　moments；　his　chest　heaving；　his　arms　too　numb　to　move；　while　he　regained　his　strength　and　studied　the　interior　of　the　skirt。　Of　the　three　types　fitted　to　hovercraft；　this　one　was　called　a　bag　skirt；　consisting　of　a　rubber　tube　that　encircled　the　hull　and　when　inflated　served　to　contain　the　air　cushion　while　providing　lift。　He　also　recognized　that　this　hovercraft　used　an　aluminum　propeller　as　a　lift　fan　to　inflate　the　bag　tube　and　feed　air　into　the　cushion。
　
　As　Pitt　reached　down　to　pull　his　dive　knife　out　of　its　sheath　strapped　to　his　leg　to　begin　slicing　holes　in　the　rubberized　fabric；　his　moment　of　victory　was　snatched　away　by　the　sound　of　the　starter　motors　as　they　began　to　turn　over　the　engines。　Then　the　propeller's　blades　started　to　spin；　their　speed　increasing　with　every　revolution。　The　skirt　began　to　flare；　and　the　water　inside　was　whipped　into　a　maelstrom。　Too　late　to　slash　the　rubber　cushion　and　prevent　the　craft　from　moving。
　
　Out　of　irreversible　despair；　he　unsnapped　the　buckle　to　his　air　tank's　backpack；　spit　out　the　breathing　regulator　and　pulled　the　tank　up　and　over　his　head。　Then；　in　one　movement；　he　thrust　it　upward　into　the　spinning　lift　propeller　and　ducked　under　the　skirt　as　it　was　starting　to　inflate。　The　propeller　blades　struck　the　tank　and　shattered。　It　was　an　act　born　of　desperation。　Pitt　knew　he　had　gambled　recklessly　and　pushed　his　luck　too　far。
　
　The　disintegration　of　the　propeller　as　its　blades　struck　a　solid；　ungiving　object　was　followed　by　a　hurricane　of　metal　shards　that　ripped　through　the　walls　of　the　rubber　skirt　like　shrapnel　from　a　bomb。　Then　came　a　second；　more　massive　explosion　as　the　tank's　walls　were　penetrated　and　it　burst　from　the　sudden　release　of　eighty　cubic　feet　of　air　pressurized　at　three　thousand　pounds。　Not　content　to　be　left　out；　the　fuel　tanks　added　to　the　cataclysm　by　erupting　in　a　blazing　conflagration　that　sent　a　firestorm　into　the　air　and　fiery　particles　of　the　hovercraft　flying　onto　the　roof　of　the　plantation　house　and　quickly　setting　the　wooden　structure　ablaze。
　
　Giordino　was　stunned　in　horror　as　he　watched　the　hovercraft　lift　out　of　the　water　and　then　violently　shred　itself　into　a　thousand　flaming　fragments。　Bodies　spun　through　the　air　like　drunken　circus　acrobats　and　splashed　into　the　water　with　the　inert　stiffness　of　mannequins　dropped　from　a　helicopter。　The　windows　of　the　plantation　house　were　blown　into　jagged　shards。　The　explosion　rumbled　over　the　surface　of　the　canal　and　struck　Giordino's　exposed　face　like　a　punch　thrown　by　the　gloved　fist　of　a　boxer。　A　waterspout　of　fiery　fuel　enveloped　the　hovercraft；　and　when　it　fell　away　and　the　spray　had　scattered　into　the　night；　the　burning　remains　of　the　craft　were　sinking　into　the　waters　of　the　canal　amid　a　great　hiss　of　steam　and　dark　smoke　that　swirled　and　quickly　became　lost　in　the　black　sky。
　
　In　growing　fear；　Giordino　frantically　paddled　the　skiff　toward　the　shattered　wreckage。　Reaching　the　outer　perimeter　of　the　burning　debris；　he　strapped　on　his　air　tank　and　rolled　into　the　canal。　Lit　by　a　field　of　flames　on　the　surface；　the　water　beneath　took　on　a　look　of　eerie　candescence；　ghostly　and　threatening。　In　a　strange　kind　of　restrained　frenzy；　he　searched　through　the　mangled　remains　of　the　hovercraft；　tearing　aside　the　shreds　of　the　skirt　and　probing　underneath。　He　was　still　dazed　with　shock　as　he　desperately　tried　to　find　the　body　of　his　friend。　He　groped　about　the　shambles　created　by　Pitt；　and　his　hands　touched　what　remained　of　a　man；　stripped　of　his　clothing；　a　sliced　and　gutted　thing　with　no　legs。　One　black　eye；　wide　open　and　unseeing；　was　all　he　required　to　know　it　wasn't　Pitt。
　
　He　fought　off　a　sickening　fear　that　it　seemed　impossible　anyone　could　have　survived　that　holocaust。　He　searched　un…availingly；　hopelessly；　for　some　sight　of　a　living　body。　God；　where　is　he？　Giordino　cried　in　his　mind。　He　began　to　feel　beyond　weary　in　his　bones　and　was　almost　ready　to　give　up　in　despair　when　something　reached　out　of　the　darkness　of　the　muck　below　him　and　grabbed　his　ankle。　Giordino　experienced　an　icy　chill　of　panic　that　gave　way　to　disbelief　when　he　felt　the　hard　grip　of　a　living　human。　He　spun　around　and　saw　a　face　leering　at　him；　green　eyes　squinting　to　see　through　the　liquid　gloom；　blood　flowing　from　the　nose　and　dissolving　in　the　water。
　
　As　if　risen　from　the　dead；　Pitt's　lips　tightened　in　a　crooked　little　grin。　His　wet　suit　was　in　tatters　and　the　dive　mask　had　been　torn　from　his　head；　but　he　was　alive。　He　pointed　up；　released　his　hold　on　Giordino's　ankle　and　kicked　toward　the　surface　a　short　five　feet　away。　They　broke　the　surface　at　the　same　time；　Giordino　grasping　Pitt　around　the　shoulders　in　a　great　bear　hug。
　
　〃Damn　you！〃　Giordino　shouted。　〃You're　alive。〃
　〃Damn　me　if　I'm　not；〃　Pitt　came　back；　laughing。
　〃How　in　God's　name　did　you　do　it？〃
　〃Dumb　luck。　After　I　heaved　my　air　tank　into　the　hovercraft's　lift　propeller　and　dove　under　the　skirt；　a　stupid　move　by　the　way；　I　got　no　f