p&c.thunderhead-第78部分

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res　went　down；　rolling　frantically　in　the　loose　dirt　of　the　tower　roof。　Nora　dropped　to　her　knees　and　crawled　crablike　away　from　the　edge；　eyes　riveted　to　the　struggle。　In　the　moonlight；　she　could　see　the　figure；　burying　the　black　knife　again　and　again　into　Sloane's　chest　and　stomach。　Sloane　cried　out；　twisting　and　thrashing　her　body。　With　a　supreme　effort；　she　tried　to　pull　herself　away。　She　half　rose；　gun　hand　swiveling　around　desperately；　only　to　be　pulled　down　again。　There　was　a　terrible　thrashing；　another　anguished　cry　from　Sloane。　The　blade　flashed　down　and　the　gun　fired　at　last；　blowing　the　knife　into　hundreds　of　glittering　slivers　of　obsidian。　With　a　howl；　the　dark　shape　flung　itself　upon　her。　There　was　a　final　thrash；　a　puff　of　dust：　and　then　both　figures　were　gone。　
　Nora　rushed　quickly　to　the　edge；　peering　down　in　horror　as　the　bodies；　locked　together；　landed　in　the　sand　at　the　bottom　of　the　tower；　flew　apart；　then　rolled　off　the　edge　of　the　city。　Before　the　moon　buried　itself　once　again　behind　the　clouds；　it　winked　briefly　off　Sloane's　pistol　as　it　spun　lazily；　end　over　end；　into　the　unfathomable　night。　
　Trembling；　Nora　pulled　herself　back；　sprawled　across　the　floor；　breathing　hard。　
　They　had　not　killed　the　skinwalker；　after　all。　It　had　hidden　itself　somewhere　within　the　blackness　of　the　tower；　waiting　for　the　right　moment　in　which　to　strike。　Then；　it　had　attacked　Sloane　with　a　single…mindedness　so　furious　Nora　could　barely　prehend　it。　And　now；　that　skinwalker　was　dead。　And　so　was　Sloane。　
　But　it　was　not　the　chase　up　the　tower；　or　even　the　encounter　on　the　roof；　that　filled　her　with　absolute　terror。　In　the　desperate　struggle；　one　crucial　fact　had　slipped　her　mind。　Two　figures　in　wolfskins　had　assaulted　her　in　the　ranch　house；　on　that　clear　Santa　Fe　night；　barely　three　weeks　before。　And　that　meant　only　one　thing。　
　There　was　another　skinwalker；　loose　somewhere；　in　the　valley　of　Quivira。　
　
　
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　HER　BREATH　ING　IN　GASPS；　NORA　moved　toward　the　hole　in　the　tower　roof。　She　lowered　herself；　as　quietly　as　she　could；　into　the　small　redoubt　below。　On　hands　and　knees；　she　crawled　toward　the　lip　of　the　chamber；　then　looked　slowly　over　the　edge。　It　was　pitch　black　in　the　tower；　she　sensed；　rather　than　felt；　the　vast　emptiness　below　her。　She　heard　nothing　save　for　the　rush　of　water　in　the　valley　beyond…the　maddening；　unceasing　babble　that　disguised　other；　stealthier；　sounds。　
　Her　arms　trembled；　the　thought　of　descending；　sightless；　through　the　plex　labyrinth　of　ancient　wood　was　terrifying。　Yet　even　more　terrifying　was　the　thought　of　remaining　here；　inside　the　tower；　waiting　for　something　to　e　for　her。　Now　that　she　had　no　weapon…now　that　there　was　no　possible　way　to　defend　herself…the　tower　had　bee　a　deathtrap　from　which　she　had　to　escape。　
　She　struggled　to　regulate　her　breathing。　Extending　one　foot　over　the　ledge；　she　swept　it　gingerly　from　side　to　side　until　she　found　the　first　notch　of　the　topmost　ladder。　Moving　carefully　forward；　she　eased　her　weight　onto　the　old　framework；　keeping　one　hand　on　the　shelf　until　she　knew　she　had　a　firm　foothold。　Then；　with　extreme　caution；　she　began　to　descend；　one　notch　at　a　time。　She　could　feel　a　chill　wind　rising　up　from　below；　caressing　her　legs。　The　wind　rose；　and　the　tower　creaked　and　ticked　in　response。　Pebbles　came　clattering　past　her；　their　echoing　fall　reminding　her　of　the　abyss　below。　
　At　last　her　foot　reached　the　firmness　of　the　second　shelf。　She　paused　for　a　second；　trying　once　again　to　steady　the　wild　rise　and　fall　of　her　chest。　But　she　could　not　remain　here：　poised　between　roof　and　floor；　she　was　even　more　vulnerable。　Groping　in　the　darkness；　fingers　extended；　she　reached　for　the　top　of　the　detached　second　ladder。　Once　again；　she　began　the　descent；　limbs　balanced　between　the　creaking　wooden　pole　and　the　stone　protrusions。　
　Just　as　she　was　about　to　reach　for　the　next　shelf；　she　froze。　There　had　been　a　sound；　she　thought：　the　soft　hollow　sound　of　a　footfall。　She　waited；　listening；　in　the　darkness。　But　there　was　nothing　more；　and　with　relief　she　slid　down　onto　the　safety　of　the　shelf。　
　One　more　ladder。　Steadying　herself；　she　reached　for　it；　tested　it。　Then；　as　carefully　as　before；　she　descended　first　one　notch；　then　another；　and　then　another。　
　Suddenly；　she　felt　the　pole　give　with　a　dry　crack。　The　entire　wooden　structure　seemed　to　shudder　around　her。　Immediately；　she　pushed　herself　away　from　the　pole　and　dropped　the　last　ten　feet；　hitting　the　stone　floor　with　a　mighty　impact。　Needles　of　pain　lanced　through　her　knees　and　ankles　as　she　scrambled　to　her　feet　and　stumbled　through　the　low　doorway　onto　the　adjacent　rooftop。　She　glanced　around；　shaking　with　exertion　and　fear。　But　there　was　nothing：　the　city　seemed　perfectly　silent　and　deserted。　
　She　had　to　get　to　the　valley。　At　least　there；　she　might　have　a　chance。　Perhaps　Sloane　had　been　wrong。　Perhaps　Swire　and　Bonarotti　were　still　alive。　If　she　could　hide　until　daylight；　she'd　have　a　better　chance　of　finding　them。　There　was　safety　in　numbers。　She　might　even　be　able　to　locate　Sloane's　gun；　lying　somewhere　in　the　darkness　of　the　valley　floor。　And　there　was　always　the　hope；　remote　as　it　was；　that　Smithback's　gunshot　wound　was　not　fatal　。　。　。　
　Nora　brushed　her　hand　across　her　face　with　a　sob。　She　could　not　allow　herself　to　think　about　that；　not　now。　
　Keeping　as　low　as　possible；　she　crept　across　the　roof　and　peered　down　the　ladder　that　leaned　against　it。　The　way　below　seemed　clear。　Swinging　herself　over　the　edge；　she　descended　as　quickly　as　she　dared；　then　paused　to　look　around。　Nothing。　
　She　paused　once　again。　The　city　seemed　silent　and　asleep。　The　moon；　alternately　emerging　from　and　disappearing　behind　the　racing　clouds；　painted　uncertain　fingers　of　light　across　the　roomblocks。　And　yet　her　instincts　told　her　that　something　was　wrong。　
　Cautiously；　keeping　against　the　wall　of　the　tower；　she　moved　around　toward　the　front　of　the　city　and　peeked　around　the　corner。　One　at　a　time；　objects　came　into　view；　lit　by　the　fitful　glow　of　the　moon：　the　retaining　wall；　the　central　plaza；　the　ghostly　outline　of　roomblocks。　
　Once　again；　a　sense　of　imminent　danger　washed　over　her。　And　this　time　she　realized　what　it　was：　borne　on　the　fitful　midnight　wind　came　the　faint　scent　of　morning　glories。　
　Almost　without　knowing　what　she　was　doing；　she　fell　back；　away　from　the　tower　and　into　the　darkness　along　the　edge　of　the　city。　She　found　herself　running　with　a　reckless　speed；　heedless　of　obstacles。　There　was　no　plan　in　her　mind。　She　felt　simply　an　animal　panic　to　get　away：　to　race　for　the　deepest；　most　secret　place　she　could　find。　
　Dark　alleys；　low　mounds　of　rubble；　angular　adobe　structures　flashed　by　in　the　faint　moonlight　as　she　ran。　Suddenly；　she　caught　herself　short。　To　the　right　were　the　squat；　low　forms　of　the　granaries。　And　directly　before　her；　its　low　maw　a　rectangle　of　deeper　darkness；　was　the　entrance　to　the　Crawlspace。　Inside；　she　knew；　the　blackness　would　be　plete。　There　might　be　a　hiding　place　in　there；　perhaps　inside　the　roomblocks　of　the　secret　city　itself。　
　She　began　to　move　forward；　then　stopped。　Pursuer　or　no；　she　would　not　allow　herself　to　enter　the　Crawlspace；　and　its　lethal　payload　of　dust；　ever　again。　
　Instead；　she　turned　and　dashed　into　the　alley　alongside　the　granaries。　Halfway　down　the　alley's　gentle　curve；　she　stopped　at　a　notched　pole　ladder；　leaning　against　the　rearward　set　of　roomblocks。　Grasping　at　the　dry　wood；　she　climbed　as　quietly　as　she　could　to　the　second…floor　setback。　Stepping　onto　the　roof；　she　pulled　the　ladder　up　behind　her。　At　least　that　would　slow　the　skinwalker　down；　buy　her　a　few　more　seconds　of　time。　
　She　shook　her　head；　forcing　the　panic　away；　trying　to　keep　her　thoughts　clear。　The　clouds　moved　once　again　over　the　moon。　Only　the　river　spoke。　Quivira　was　silent；　watching；　under　a　shroud　of　darkness。　
　She　moved　across　the　rearward　set　of　roofs；　past　a　long　row　of　keyhole　doorways。　Bats　flitted　from　the　recesses　of　the　city；　flicking　through　the　shadows　on　their　way　to　the　valley。　Except　for　a　few　central　roomblocks　that　ran　from　the　front　of　the　city　to　the　back；　most　of　the　buildings　were　cul…de…sacs。　She　thought　of　hiding　inside　one　of　the　roomblocks；　then　quickly　dismissed　the　idea；　out　here；　in　the　city　proper；　it　would　only　be　a　matter　of　time　until　she　was　hunted　down。　Better　to　keep　moving；　to　wait　for　an　opportunity　to　descend　into　the　valley。　
　She　crept　along　the　row　of　open　doorways；　then　paused　at　the　corner　of　the　roomblock；　listening。　
　A　sudden　footfall　invaded　the　darkness。　Nora　looked　around　wildly；　with　the　sound　of　the　river　echoing　through　the　vault；　it　was　almost　impossible　to　tell　where　the　sound　had　e　from。　Had　the　skinwalker　followed　her　around　to　the　granaries；　and　was　it　even　now　slipping　up　behind？　Or　was　it　lying　in　wait　somewhere　in　the　plaza；　biding　its　time　until　she　crept　toward　the　rope　ladder？　
　There　was　another　noise；　not　as　faint　as　the　last。　It　seemed…she　thought…to　have　e　from　below。　Dropping　to　her　stomach；　Nora　crawled　to　the　side　of　the　roof；　and　cautiously　peered　over　the　edge　into　the　pool　of　darkness。　Empty。　
　She　rose　to　her　feet；　the　smell　of　flowers　stronger　now：　overripe；　sickly　sweet。　Her　heart　was　hammering　violently　in　her　chest。　She　backed　away　from　the　parapet；　and　as　she　did　so　she　heard　the　rattling　sound　of　the　pole　ladder　being　placed　against　its　flanks。　Quickly；　she　ducked　into　the　nearest　set　of　roomblocks。　
　She　pressed　herself　against　the　wall；　gasping　for　breath。　Whatever　she　did；　wherever　she　went；　she　was　at　a　disadvantage。　The　skinwalker　was　faster　than　she　was；　and　far　stronger。　It　was　at　home　in　the　dark。　She　realized　that　it　would　never　allow　her　to　escape　from　the　valley。　
　There　was　only　one　possibility。　She　had　to　even　the　playing　field；　to　minimize　the　threat。　And　that　meant　finding　a　weapon。　
　Inside；　the　room　was　still　and　cool。　Nora　glanced　quickly　around。　A　pile　of　war　god　masks　stood　in　one　corner；　crimson　mouths　twisted　and　leering　in　the　faint　moonlight。　The　air　smelled　of　pack　rats　and　mold。　She　crept　through　the　next　doorway　into　another　room；　darker　than　the　first；　feeling　along　the　walls；　letting　her　memory　of　the　place　guide　her　steps。　
　Cautiously；　she　felt　her