cw.blackalibi-第20部分

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　　〃I　can't　get　up　it；　it's　too　high。〃　He　was　breathless　now　himself。　〃Wait　a　minute；　I'll　get　someone。　I'll　get　hold　of　someone　with　a　ladder；　and　e　back　with　that。〃
　　The　car　door　splitting　again；　like　a　hinge　of　hell。
　　Her　voice　rose　to　an　unendurable　scream。　〃No；　don't　leave　me！　Don't　leave　me；　I　can't　stand　it！〃
　　He　held　back；　probably　half　in；　half　Out；　trying　to　reason　with　her。　〃But　you're　all　right　now。　Someone　knows　you're　in　there。　I　know　you're　in　there。　It's　just　a　matter　of　a　moment。　Pequeсa；　pequeсa；　don't　you　see？〃
　　She　screamed　again。　Just　instinct　was　screaming；　there　was　nothing　there　any　more　he　could　reason　with。　〃You　won't　e　back！　Stand'　there　and　talk　to　me；　if　you　can't　get　me　out。　At　least　stand　there　so　I'll　know　there's　someone　near　me。　Seсor；　seсor；　whoever　you　are；　have　pity　on　me。　Don't　leave　me　all　alone　again。〃
　　〃But　you　must　be　gotten　out。　There's　a　paint　shop　only　a　few　blocks　from　here。　They　must　have　a　ladder　there。　I'll　get　hold　of　the　proprietor；　and　in　less　than　five　minutes　I'll　be　back　here　again。〃
　　〃You　won't　e　back；　you　won't　e　back。〃
　　〃Little　frightened　seсorita；　I　swear　to　you　by　all　that's　holy　that　I　won't　leave　you　in　there。　Who　could　do　such　a　thing？　I'm　a　man。　This　way　I'd　only　stand　here　all　night　without　doing　you　any　good。　Trust　me。〃
　　She　held　out　a　moment　longer；　instinct　against　reason。　Then　she　gave　in。　〃All　right；　seсor；　I　trust　you；〃　she　said　in　a　watery　voice。　〃But　hurry。　It's　so　dark；　and　there　are　things　moving　in　the　shadows　behind　me。〃
　　〃Stand　with　your　back　to　them。　Don't　look　around。　Stand　turned　toward　the　wall；　until　I　can　get　back；　and　they　won't　hurt　you。〃
　　〃But　that　way　it's　even　worse。　Then　I　seem　to　hear　them　creeping　up　behind　me；　getting　ready　to　pounce；　without　my　seeing　them。〃
　　His　own　voice　was　wrung　with　pity；　whoever　he　was；　at　the　state　she　was　in。　〃　Pobrecita。　Just　a　minute；　muchachita；　just　a　minute　and　we'll　have　you　out。〃
　　She　couldn't　resist　one　final　bleat　as　the　car　door　closed　once　more。　〃Don't　forget　me；　seсor…　You　Won't　forget　me；　seсor…？〃
　　〃Just　where　you　are；　and　I'll　be　back　in　no　time；〃　his　voice　sounded　over　the　renewal　of　the　engine。　〃Don't　move；　now；　so　that　I'll　know　where　to　find　you。〃
　　The　engine　evened　out；　drew　away；　and　she　heard　him　go　whirring　off　on　his　quest。　One　last　wisp　of　it　came　drifting　back；　after　the　rest　was　already　gone；　like　a　postscript；　like　an　afterthought　from　the　distance。　And　then　no　more。
　　Silence　again。　Night　again；　and　by　herself　again。
　　She　stood　there　for　a　while　in　a　sort　of　state　of　suspended　animation；　staring　blindly　toward　the　black　presence　of　the　wall；　as　though　trying　to　fix　and　hold　the　exact　spot　at　which　she　had　last　heard　his　voice；　lest　if　she　lose　it　by　so　much　as　a　quarter　of　an　inch；　if　she　deflect　her　eyes；　he　would　not　e　back；　there　would　be　some　magic　pulsion　gone。　Frightened　children　have　that　fetishism。
　　〃Don't　move；　he　said；〃　she　whispered　to　herself　once；　in　cautioning　reminder。
　　Then　suddenly；　as　though　unable　to　support　her　upright　position　any　more；　as　though　something　had　given　way　under　her；　she　floundered　down　to　her　former　position　on　the　ground；　halflength　prone；　head　and　neck　and　shoulders　still　upright　on　one　arm。　Not　senseless；　but　drained　of　all　strength。　Only　able　to　do　two　things；　breathe　and　wait。　Three。
　　Hope　was　a　white　moth；　tiny　of　wing；　fluttering　around　her　in　the　darkness。
　　Coldness　seeped　into　her　legs　and　the　outspread　flatness　of　her　own　hand　from　the　moss　and　the　damp　ground；　numbing　them。　Or　was　that　the　ichor　of　those　who　lay　so　thickly　scattered　about　under　here　being　transfused　into　her　by　some　horrid　sort　of　osmosis？　She　snatched　her　hand　up　and　flung　it　out；　as　you　do　when　you　try　to　drain　something　off。
　　The　moth　was　making　wider　circles　now；　not　so　close　around　her。　How　long　was　it　now？　Four　minutes？　Five？
　　She　struggled　to　her　knees；　and　bunched　her　hands　together；　and　bent　her　face　to　them。　〃Make　him　e　back。　Just　this　one　little　thing　give　me：　make　him　e　back。〃
　　The　moth　was　going　now；　the　moth　was　leaving　fast；　going　somewhere　else。　Its　minute　wings　were　glimmering　off　into　nothingness。
　　She　whispered　into　her　hands；　as　though　it　were　a　secret　they　alone　shared　with　her：　〃He　told　me　not　to　move。　See；　I'm　trying　not　to　be　frightened。　I'm　quiet；　you　can't　hear　me。　That　one　nearly　got　out；　but　I　didn't　let　it；　I　stifled　it。　This　one　isn't　going　to　either…〃
　　And　then　a　bereft　scream　went　winging　up　overhead　and；　almost　puzzled；　she　realized　it　had　e　from　her。
　　She　put　her　hands　to　her　throat；　as　if　to　stop　it　outwardly；　if　she　couldn't　inwardly。　They　were　powerless　too。　A　second　one　was　wrenched　from　her　against　her　will。　〃Hurry　up！　Where　are　you？〃　It　vibrated　in　the　cemetery　stillness　like　a　thrumming　knife　blade；　went　winging　over　the　wall　into　the　night　beyond。
　　In　the　redoubled　silence　that　followed　she　thought　she　heard　a　sound。　Nothing　definite；　like　that　car　door　before；　or　even　the　chirp　of　the　horn　preceding　that。　Something　less　easily　identifiable；　like　a…a　pad。　Over　somewhere　on　the　other　side　of　the　wall；　not　in　here　where　she　was。　It　must　have　been　simply　some　leaf；　or　small　cluster　of　leaves；　that　had　fallen　to　the　ground　with　a　splat。　And　yet；　it　hadn't　been　quite　like　that　either。　It　had　been　both　firmer　and　at　the　same　time　softer；　less　scratchy；　more　resilient。　Almost　like　a　velvety　tread；　the　merest　silkiest　whisper　of　a　tread；　except　that　a　tread　is　continuous；　and　this　was　an　isolated　fragment　of　one；　cast　into　notice　by　some　uncertainty　or　flux　of　the　ground　being　trodden　upon。　That；　at　least；　was　what　it　could　have　been　taken　for；　what　it　bore　a　resemblance　to　most。　But　was　it　anything　at　all？　The　sodden　fall　of　a　kernel　or　heavy　burr；　or　a　piece　of　mortar　loosened　from　the　wall　surface　by　his　recent　gymnastic　efforts；　could　have　caused　it　as　well。
　　Alertness　was　ebbing　again；　as　nothing　followed　for　a　moment　or　two。
　　Then　a　twig　snapped。　The　smallest　of　small　twigs。　Little　better　than　a　membrane。　Still　over　there　on　the　outside；　not　in　here。
　　The　wind　was　from　behind　her；　blowing　outward　across　the　wall；　as　it　had　been　all　along。　Not　strong；　of　an　impetus　enough　only　to　sway　dangling　leaves　a　little；　to　carry　scents　from　one　part　to　another。　To　carry　the　scent　of　the　many　dead　over　the　wall　and　beyond。　The　many　dead；　and　the　one　living。　But　what　nostrils　could　detect　such　a　thing？　What　senses　were　keen　en…？
　　There　was　a　huff。　The　sound　of　hot　body　breath　being　blown　against　a　surface　that　acted　upon　it　as　a　sort　of　sounding　board。　As　if　nostrils　were　being　pointed　searchingly　against　the　wall。　But　distended　vents　of　nostrils；　tubes　of　sonorousness。
　　There　was　something　living　near　her。　It　was　a　feeling；　a　surety；　a　knowledge；　that　grew　on　her　without　any　further　audible　proof　to　confirm　it。　Every　nerve　in　her　body；　every　hair　follicle　in　her　head；　told　her　so。　And　the　longer　the　silence　continued；　the　stronger　the　impression　grew。　As　though；　while　she　held　her　breath；　listening　through；　something　else　was　bated　near　her；　listening　also。　More　than　just　listening　with　ear。　Identifying　her　with　rippling　pores　of　acuteness。　Projected　waves　of　awareness；　magnetized　with　some　sort　of　powerful；　leashed　dynamism；　reached　her　through　the　bulky　stone　barrier。　Something；　someone；　was　present　there；　hidden　from　sight　on　the　other　side　of　it。　Stalking　her　in　plete　immobility；　so　to　speak。
　　Her　screams；　just　now；　had　drawn　something　to　her。　It　couldn't　be　a　human　being；　it　was　too　stealthy。　A　dog；　perhaps？　But　a　dog　would　bark　or　at　least　growl　its　distrust。　This　thing　was　still。　fleadlily　still；　venomously　still。
　　She　couldn't　stand　the　prolonged　tension　any　longer。　A　tension　not　alone　generated　from　her；　but　that　was　a　two…way　current；　flowing　both　to　and　from　her。　〃Is　that　you？〃　she　quavered。　〃Why　are　you　so　still？〃
　　She　knew　it　couldn't　be。　He　would　have　e　back　in　the　car。　Or　if　not；　there　would　at　least　have　been　the　sound　of　hurrying　footsteps；　unconcealed；　the　drag　of　a　ladder；　a　hail　to　her。
　　There　was　a　rasping；　along　the　outer　side　of　the　wall；　in　answer　to　her　voice。　A　sandpapery　fri