dk.intensity-第75部分

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　She　was　nervous　about　leaving　the　engine　running；　because　the　sound　of　it　would　mask　the　approach　of　another　vehicle　in　case　Vess　came　home　earlier。　But　she　needed　lights；　and　she　didn't　want　to　risk　depleting　the　battery。
　From　the　drawer；　she　withdrew　the　package　of　gauze　pads；　the　roll　of　cloth　tape；　and　the　scissors。
　In　the　lounge　area　behind　the　cockpit；　she　sat　in　one　of　the　armchairs。　Earlier；　she　had　stripped　out　of　all　the　protective　gear。　Now　she　removed　her　right　shoe。　Her　sock　was　sodden　with　blood；　and　she　peeled　it　off。
　From　two　punctures　in　the　top　of　her　foot；　blood　welled　dark　and　thick。　It　was　seeping；　however；　not　spurting；　and　she　wasn't　going　to　die　from　the　wound　itself　anytime　soon。
　She　quickly　pressed　a　double　thickness　of　gauze　pads　over　the　seeping　holes　and　fixed　them　in　place　with　a　length　of　cloth　tape。　By　tightening　the　tape　to　apply　a　little　pressure；　she　might　be　able　to　make　the　bleeding　slow　or　stop。
　She　would　have　preferred　to　saturate　the　punctures　with　Bactine　or　iodine；　but　she　didn't　have　anything　like　that。　Anyway；　infection　wouldn't　set　in　for　a　few　hours；　and　by　then　she　would　have　gotten　away　from　here　and　obtained　medical　attention。　Or　she'd　be　dead　of　other　causes。
　The　chance　of　rabies　seemed　small　to　nil。　Edgler　Vess　would　be　solicitous　of　the　health　of　his　dogs。　They　would　have　received　all　their　vaccinations。
　Her　sock　was　cold　and　slimy　with　blood；　and　she　didn't　even　try　to　pull　it　on　again。　She　slipped　her　bandaged　foot　into　her　shoe　and　tied　the　lace　slightly　looser　than　usual。
　A　folding　metal　stepstool　was　stored　in　a　narrow　slot　between　the　kitchen　cabinetry　and　the　refrigerator。　She　carried　it　into　the　short　hallway　at　the　end　of　the　vehicle　and　opened　it　under　the　skylight；　which　was　a　flat　panel　of　frosted　plastic　about　three　feet　long　and　perhaps　twenty　inches　wide。
　She　climbed　onto　the　stool　to　inspect　the　skylight；　hoping　that　it　either　tilted　open　to　admit　fresh　air　or　was　attached　to　the　roof　from　the　interior。　Unfortunately；　the　panel　was　fixed；　with　no　louver　fimction；　and　the　mounting　flange　was　on　the　exterior；　so　she　could　not　get　at　any　screws　or　rivets　from　the　inside。
　Under　her　padded　clothing；　she　had　worn　a　tool　belt　that　she'd　found　in　one　of　the　drawers　of　Vess's　workbench。　She　had　taken　it　off　with　the　rest　of　the　gear。　Now　it　was　on　the　table　in　the　dining　nook。
　Unable　to　be　certain　what　tools　she　would　need；　she'd　brought　a　pair　of　standard　pliers；　a　pair　of　needle…nose　pliers；　both　flat　and　rat…tail　files；　and　several　sizes　of　screwdrivers　with　standard　blades　and　Phillips　heads。　There　was　also　a　hammer；　which　was　the　only　thing　that　she　could　use。
　When　she　stood　on　the　first　step　of　the　two…step　stool；　the　top　of　her　head　was　only　ten　inches　from　the　skylight。　Averting　her　face；　she　swung　the；　hammer　with　her　left　hand；　and　the　flat　steel　head　met　the　plastic　with　a　horrendous　bang　and　clatter。
　The　skylight　was　undamaged。　Chyna　swung　the　hammer　relentlessly。　Each　blow　reverberated　in　the　plastic　overhead　but　also　through　all　of　her　strained　and　weary　muscles；　through　her　aching　bones。
　The　motor　home　was　at　least　fifteen　years　old；　and　this　appeared　to　be　the　original　factory…installed　skylight。　It　wasn't　Plexiglas　but　some　less　formidable　material；　over　many　years　of　sunshine　and　bad　weather；　the　plastic　had　grown　brittle。　Finally　the　rectangular　panel　cracked　along　one　edge　of　the　frame。　Chyna　hammered　at　the　leading　point　of　the　fissure；　making　it　grow　all　the　way　to　the　corner；　then　along　the　narrow　end；　and　then　along　the　other　three…foot　length。
　She　had　to　pause　several　times　to　catch　her　breath　and　to　change　the　hammer　from　hand　to　hand。　At　last　the　panel　rattled　loosely　in　its　frame；　it　now　seemed　to　be　secured　only　by　splinters　of　material　along　the　fissures　and　by　the　uncracked　fourth　edge。
　Chyna　dropped　the　hammer；　slowly　flexed　hcr　hands　a　few　times　to　work　some　of　the　stiffhess　out　of　them；　and　then　put　both　palms　flat　against　the　plastic。　Grunting　with　the　effort；　she　pushed　upward　as　she　climbed　onto　the　second　step　of　the　stool。
　With　a　brittle　splintering　of　plastic；　the　panel　lifted　an　inch；　jagged　edges　squeaking　against　each　another。　Then　it　bent　backward　at　its　fourth　side；　creaking；　resisting　her　。。。　resisting　。。。　until　she　cried　out　wordlessly　in　frustration　and；　finding　new　strength；　pushed　even　harder。　Abruptly　the　fourth　side　cracked　all　the　way　through；　with　a　bang！　as　loud　as　a　gunshot。
　She　pushed　the　panel　out　through　the　ceiling。　It　rattled　across　the　roof　and　dropped　to　the　driveway。
　Through　the　hole　above　her　head；　Chyna　saw　clouds　suddenly　slide　away　from　the　moon。　Cold　light　bathed　her　upturned　face；　and　in　the　bottomless　sky　was　the　clean　white　fire　of　stars。
　Chyna　backed　the　motor　home　off　the　driveway　and　alongside　the　front　of　the　house；　parallel　to　the　porch　and　as　close　to　it　as　she　could　get。　She　let　the　big　vehicle　roll　slowly；　anxious　not　to　tear　up　the　thick　grass；　because　under　it　the　ground　might　be　muddy　even　half　a　day　after　the　rain　had　stopped。　She　didn't　dare　bog　down。
　When　she　was　in　position；　she　put　the　vehicle　in　park　and　set　the　emergency　brake。　She　left　the　engine　running。
　In　the　short　hall　at　the　back　of　the　motor　home；　the　stepstool　had　fallen　over。　She　put　it　upright；　climbed　the　two　steps；　and　stood　with　her　head　in　the　night　air；　above　the　open　frame　of　the　broken…out　skylight。
　She　wished　the　stool　had　a　third　step。　She　needed　to　muscle　herself　out　of　the　hallway；　and　she　was　at　a　less　advantageous　angle　than　she　would　have　liked。
　She　placed　her　hands　flat　on　the　roof　on　opposite　sides　of　the　twenty…inch…wide　rectangular　opening　and　struggled　to　lever　her　body　out　of　the　motor　home。　She　strained　so　hard　that　she　could　feel　the　tendons　flaring　between　her　neck　and　shoulders；　her　pulse　pounding　like　doomsday　drums　in　her　temples　and　carotid　arteries；　every　muscle　in　her　arms　and　across　her　back　quivering　with　the　effort。
　Pain　and　exhaustion　seemed　certain　to　thwart　her。　But　then　she　thought　of　Ariel　in　the　living…room　armchair：　rocking　back　and　forth；　hugging　herself；　a　faraway　look　in　her　eyes；　her　lips　parted　in　what　might　have　been　a　silent　scream。　That　image　of　the　girl　empowered　Chyna；　put　her　in　touch　with　hitherto　unknown　resources。　Her　shaking　arms　slowly　straightened；　pulling　her　body　out　of　the　hallway；　and　inch　by　inch　she　kicked　her　feet　as　if　she　were　a　swimmer　ascending　from　the　depths。　At　last　her　elbows　locked　with　her　arms　at　full　extension；　and　she　heaved　forward；　out　through　the　skylight；　onto　the　roof。
　On　the　way；　her　sweater　caught　on　small　fragments　of　plastic　that　bristled　from　the　skylight　frame。　A　few　jagged　points　pierced　the　knit　material　and　stung　her　belly；　but　she　broke　loose　of　them。
　She　crawled　forward；　rolled　onto　her　back；　hiked　her　sweater；　and　felt　her　stomach　to　see　how　badly　she　had　been　cut。　Blood　wept　from　a　couple　of　shallow　punctures；　but　she　wasn't　hurt　seriously。
　From　far　off　in　the　night　came　the　howls　of　at　least　two　injured　dogs。　Their　pathetic　cries　were　so　filled　with　fear；　vulnerability；　misery；　and　loneliness　that　Chyna　could　hardly　bear　to　listen。
　She　eased　to　the　edge　of　the　roof　and　looked　down　at　the　yard　to　the　cast　of　the　house。
　The　uninjured　Doberman　trotted　around　the　front　of　the　motor　home　and　spotted　her　at　once。　It　stood　directly　under　her；　gazing　up；　teeth　bared。　It　seemed　unfazed　by　the　suffering　of　its　three　rades。
　Chyna　moved　away　from　the　edge　and　got　to　her　feet。　The　metal　surface　was　somewhat　slippery　with　dew；　and　she　was　thankful　for　the　rubber　tread　on　her　Rockports。　If　she　lost　her　footing　and　fell　off　into　the　yard；　with　no　weapons　and　no　protective　clothing；　the　one　remaining　Doberman　would　overwhelm　her　and　tear　out　her　throat　in　ten　seconds　flat。
　The　motor　home　was　only　a　few　inches　below　the　edge　of　the　porch　roof。　She　had　parked　so　close　that　the　distance　between　the　vehicle　and　the　house　was　less　than　a　foot。
　She　stepped　up　and　across　that　gap；　onto　the　sloped　roof　of　the　porch。　The　asphalt　shingles　had　a　sandy　texture　and　weren't　nearly　as　treacherous　as　the　top　of　the　motor　home。
　The　slope　wasn't　steep　either；　and　she