p&c.thunderhead-第66部分

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There　was　a　buzzing　sound；　but　he　wasn't　sure　if　it　was　ing　from　the　valley　or　inside　his　head。　
　He　glanced　at　the　pany　ranged　beside　him。　They　were　all　staring　toward　the　mouth　of　the　slot　canyon。　On　Swire's　face；　puzzlement　gave　way　first　to　dawning　understanding；　then　horror。　
　〃Flash　flood；〃　said　the　wrangler。　〃My　God；　they're　in　the　canyon　。　。　。〃　He　broke　for　the　ladder。　
　Black　held　his　breath。　He　thought　he　knew　what　was　ing；　he　felt　that　he　was　prepared　for　anything。　And　yet　he　was　totally　unprepared　for　the　spectacle　that　followed。　
　With　a　basso　profundo　groan；　the　slot　canyon　belched　forth　a　mass　of　boulders　and　splintered　tree　trunks…hundreds　of　them…which　burst　from　the　narrow　crevice　and　came　spinning　down　to　earth。　Then；　with　the　swelling　roar　of　a　beast　opening　its　maw；　the　slot　vomited　forth　a　liquid　mass…chocolate…brown　water；　mingled　with　ropes　of　viscous　red。　It　coalesced　into　a　rippling　wall　that　fell　in　thunder　against　the　scree　slope；　sending　up　secondary　spouts　and　smoking　plumes。　It　tore　down　the　floodplain；　smoking　along　the　banks；　ripping　away　chunks　of　the　slope　and　even　peeling　off　pieces　of　the　canyon　wall　in　the　extremity　of　its　violence。　For　a　moment　Black　thought；　with　horror；　that　it　would　actually　surmount　the　steep　banks　on　either　side　of　the　plain　and　take　away　their　camp。　But　instead　it　worried；　chewed；　and　ate　away　at　the　stone　edges　of　the　benchland；　its　fury　contained　but　made　all　the　more　violent。　Near　the　bank　of　cottonwoods；　he　could　make　out　Swire；　shielding　his　face　with　his　arms；　beaten　back　toward　camp　by　the　fury　of　the　blast。　
　Black　stood　at　the　edge　of　the　cliff；　buffeted　by　the　wind；　motionless　in　shock　and　horror。　Beside　him；　Bonarotti　was　yelling　something；　but　Black　did　not　hear　it。　He　was　staring　at　the　water。　He　could　never　have　imagined　water　capable　of　such　fury。　He　watched　as　it　swept　down　the　center　of　the　valley；　tearing　at　the　banks；　engulfing　entire　trees；　instantly　turning　the　lovely；　sun…dappled　landscape　into　a　watery　vision　of　hell。　A　thousand　rainbows　sprung　up　from　the　spume；　glistening　in　the　appalling　sunlight。　
　Then　he　saw　a　flash　of　yellow　amid　the　churning　chocolate：　Holroyd's　body　bag。　And　then；　moments　later；　something　else；　caught　in　a　standing　wave：　a　human　torso；　one　arm　still　attached；　wearing　the　shredded　remnants　of　a　tan　shirt。　As　Black　stared　in　mingled　shock　and　disgust；　the　gruesome　object　erupted　off　the　top　of　the　wave　and　spun　around　once；　the　limp　arm　flapping　in　a　travesty　of　a　gesture　of　help。　Then　it　bobbed　over　in　a　haze　of　chocolates　and　grays　and　was　swallowed　in　the　flood。　
　Almost　unconsciously；　he　took　a　step　backward；　then　another　and　another；　until　he　felt　his　heel　bump　against　the　rock　of　the　retaining　wall。　He　half　sat；　half　collapsed　onto　it；　then　turned　his　back　to　the　valley；　unwilling　to　see　any　more。　
　He　wondered　what　it　was　he　had　done。　Was　he　a　murderer；　after　all？　But　no：　not　even　a　lie　had　been　told。　The　weather　report　had　been　clear　and　unequivocal。　The　storm　was　twenty　miles　away；　the　water　could　have　gone　anywhere。　
　The　roar　of　the　flood　continued　behind　him；　but　Black　tried　not　to　hear　it。　Instead；　he　raised　his　eyes　to　the　cool　depths　of　the　city　that　lay　spread　before　him：　dark　even　in　the　bright　morning　sun；　serene；　utterly　indifferent　to　the　calamity　that　was　taking　place　in　the　valley　beyond。　Looking　at　the　city；　he　began　to　feel　a　little　bit　better。　He　breathed　slowly；　letting　the　tightness　in　his　chest　ease。　His　thoughts　began　trending　once　again　toward　the　Sun　Kiva　and　the　treasure　it　contained…and　especially　of　the　immortality　that　it　represented。　Schliemann。　Carter。　Black。　
　He　started　guiltily；　then　glanced　over　toward　Sloane。　She　was　still　standing　at　the　edge　of　the　cliff；　staring　down　into　the　valley。　Her　look　was　veiled；　but　on　her　face　he　read　a　play　of　emotions　that　she　could　not　hide　pletely：　amazement；　horror；　and…in　the　glint　of　the　eye　and　the　faintest　curl　of　the　lip…triumph。　
　
　
51
　
　RICKY　BRIGGS　LISTENED　TO　THE　DISTANT　sound　with　irritation。　That　rhythmic　swat　meant　only　one　thing：　a　helicopter；　heading　this　way　by　the　sound　of　it。　He　shook　his　head。　Helicopters　were　supposed　to　keep　out　of　the　marina's　airspace；　although　they　rarely　did。　There　were　often　choppers　doing　flybys　of　the　lake；　or　en　route　to　the　Colorado　River　or　the　Grand　Canyon。　They　annoyed　the　boaters。　And　when　the　boaters　got　annoyed；　they　plained　to　Ricky　Briggs。　He　heaved　a　sigh　and　went　back　to　his　paperwork。　
　After　a　moment；　he　looked　up　again。　The　helicopter　sounded　different　from　usual：　lower；　throatier　somehow。　And　the　sound　of　the　engine　seemed　strangely　staggered；　as　if　there　were　more　than　one。　Over　the　drone；　he　could　hear　a　diesel　pulling　up　beside　the　building；　the　chatter　of　onlookers。　Idly；　he　leaned　forward　to　glance　out　the　window。　What　he　saw　caused　him　to　jump　from　his　seat。　
　Two　massive　helicopters　were　beating　up　from　the　west；　ing　in　low。　They　sported　amphibious　hulls；　and　Coast　Guard　logos　were　emblazoned　on　their　sides。　They　slowed　into　a　hover　just　beyond　the　marina's　no…wake　zone；　huge　airfoils　beating　the　sky。　A　large　pontoon　boat　dangled　from　one　of　them。　Below；　the　water　was　being　whipped　into　a　frenzy　of　whitecaps。　Houseboats　were　rolling　heavily；　and　pink…skinned　bathers　were　gathering　curiously　along　the　concrete　apron。　
　Briggs　grabbed　his　cellular　and　ran　outside　onto　the　shimmering　tarmac；　punching　up　the　number　for　the　Page　air…control　tower　as　he　lumbered　along。　
　Out　in　the　baking　heat；　an　additional　surprise　awaited　him：　a　huge　horse　trailer　parked　at　the　ramp；　same　as　before；　SANTA　FE　ARCHAEOLOGICAL　INSTITUTE　stenciled　on　one　side。　As　he　watched；　two　National　Guard　trucks　pulled　in　behind　it。　Ranks　of　guardsmen　scrambled　out　of　the　rears；　traffic　barriers　in　hand。　A　murmur　came　up　from　the　crowd　as　the　pontoon　boat　was　dropped　from　the　helicopter　with　an　enormous　splash。　
　His　phone　chirruped；　and　a　voice　sounded　through　the　tiny　speaker。　〃Page；〃　it　said。　
　〃This　is　Wahweap！〃　Briggs　screamed　into　the　telephone。　〃What　the　hell　is　going　on　at　our　marina？〃　
　〃Calm　yourself；　Mr。　Briggs；〃　came　the　unruffled　voice　of　the　air…traffic　supervisor。　〃There's　a　big　search…and…rescue　being　organized。　Just　learned　about　it　a　few　minutes　ago。〃　
　One　group　of　guardsmen　was　laying　down　the　traffic　barriers；　while　another　group　had　gone　down　to　the　ramp　to　clear　a　trail；　shooing　boats　away　from　the　marina。　〃What　does　that　have　to　do　with　me？〃　Briggs　shouted。　
　〃It's　in　the　back　country；　west　of　Kaiparowits。〃　
　〃Jesus。　What　a　place　to　be　lost。　Who　is　it？〃　
　〃Don't　know。　Nobody's　saying　anything。〃　
　Must　be　those　dumb…ass　archaeologists；　Briggs　thought。　Only　a　crazy　person　would　go　into　that　back　country。　Another　approaching　engine　added　to　the　din；　and　he　turned　to　see　a　semi　backing　a　large；　sleek…looking　motorboat　toward　the　water。　Twin…diesel　housings　jutted　from　its　stern　like　machine　gun　turrets。　
　〃Why　the　helicopters？〃　Briggs　plained　into　the　phone。　〃There's　such　a　maze　of　canyons　back　there　you'd　never　find　anything。　Besides；　you　couldn't　land　anywhere　even　if　you　did　find　something。〃　
　〃I　understand　they're　just　ferrying　equipment　to　the　far　end　of　the　lake。　I　told　you；　this　is　big。〃　
　The　boat　had　been　set　in　the　water　with　remarkable　speed；　and　with　a　roar　the　semi　pulled　away；　leaving　the　ramp　awash。　The　boat　rumbled　to　life；　turned；　and　nudged　the　dock；　waiting　just　long　enough　for　two　men　to　board：　one；　a　young　man　wearing　a　José　Cuervo　T…shirt；　the　other　a　thin；　gray…haired　man　in　khakis。　A　monstrous…looking　brown　dog　leaped　in　behind　them。　Immediately；　the　boat　took　off；　roaring　through　the　no…wake　zone　at　full　speed；　leaving　a　hundred　jetskis　bobbing　madly　in　its　wake。　The　huge　helicopters　dug　their　noses　in　the　air　and　turned　to　follow。　
　Briggs　watched　with　disbelief　as　the　horse　trailer　came　sliding　down　the　ramp　toward　the　waiting　pontoon　boat。　
　〃This　can't　be　happening；〃　he　murmured。　
　〃Oh；　it's　happening；〃　came　the　laconic　reply。　〃I'm　sure　they'll　be　calling　you；　too。　Gotta　go。〃　
　Briggs　punched　at　the　phone　furiously；　but　even　as　he　did　so　it　began　to　ring：　a　shrill；　insistent　chirp　over　the　grinding　of　gears　and　the　calls　of　the　onlookers。　
　
　
52
　
　BLACK　SANK　DOWN　BESIDE　THE　DEAD　FIRE；　exhausted　and　soaked　through。　The　belated　rain　beat　its　regular　cadence　upon　his　shoulders；　not　as　furiously　as　it　had　an　hour　before；　but　steadily；　with　large；　fat　drops。　He　paid　it　no　heed。　
　Although　the　initial　surge　of　the　flood　had　abated；　the　water　continued　to　roar　down　the　center　of　the　valley；　its　brown　moiling　surface　like　the　muscled　back　of　some　monstrous　beast。　Distantly；　he　watched　its　wide　course；　around　and　over　stranded　trees；　arrowing　for　the　mouth　of　the　smaller　slot　canyon　at　the　far　end　of　the　valley。　There；　in　the　confined　space；　the　violence　of　the　water　returned；　and　huge　spumes　of　froth　and　spray　leaped　up　toward　the　cloud…heavy　sky。　
　For　almost　two　hours　they　had　hovered　at　the　water's　edge。　Sloane　had　made　a　valiant　rescue　effort：　roving　the　banks；　spanning　the　flood　with　rescue　ropes；　scanning　the　water　ceaselessly　for　survivors。　Black　had　never　seen　such　a　heroic　attempt。　Or　such　a　believable　piece　of　acting；　for　that　matter。　He　passed　a　hand　over　his　eyes　as　he　sat　hunched　forward。　Perhaps　it　wasn't　an　act；　right　now；　he　was　too　tired　to　care。　
　Eventually；　all　except　Sloane　had　gravitated　away　from　the　water's　edge　to　the　camp。　The　remaining　drysacks；　scattered　by　the　wind；　had　been　organized；　the　tents　repitched　and　restaked；　the　riot　of　twigs　and　branches　cleared　away。　Nobody　had　spoken；　but　all　had　lent　a　hand。　It　was　as　if　they　had　to　do　something；　anything；　constructive；　anything　was　easier　to　endure　than　standing　uselessly；　staring　at　the　rushing　water。　
　Black　sat　back；　took　a　deep　breath；　and　looked　around。　Beside　him；　in　neat　rows；　lay　the　gear　that　had　been　intended　for　the　trip　home：　still　packed　and　ready　to　be　hauled　out；　a　silent　mockery　of　the　portage　out　the　slot　canyon　that　had　never　happened。　Nothing　else　remained　to　be　done。　
　Bonarotti；　taking　his　cue　from　Black；　came　over　and　silently　began　to　unpack　his　kitchen　gear。　This；　more　than　anything　else；　seemed　to　b