p&c.thunderhead-第79部分

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ling　along　the　walls；　letting　her　memory　of　the　place　guide　her　steps。　
　Cautiously；　she　felt　her　way　into　the　third　room。　A　shaft　of　pale　light　came　through　a　crack　in　the　roof；　and　there　they　were：　a　stack　of　fire…hardened　wooden　spears；　ending　in　razor…sharp　obsidian　tips。　She　hefted　a　few；　selected　the　two　lightest；　and　moved　out　of　the　room　into　a　narrow　passageway。　
　She　felt　her　way　along　the　wall；　moving　toward　the　next　room　in　the　block。　Her　memory　of　the　location　of　the　spears　had　been　more　or　less　correct；　she　also　recalled　that　this　system　of　rooms　had　an　entrance　at　the　front　as　well　as　the　back。　But　there　were　many　hundreds　of　rooms　in　Quivira；　and　she　could　not　be　certain。　
　Locating　the　doorframe；　she　ducked　into　the　next　room。　Here；　gray　light　filtered　from　the　far　doorway。　With　a　small　glimmer　of　relief；　Nora　realized　she　must　be　close　to　the　front　of　the　structure。　She　moved　into　the　darkest　corner　and　waited；　listening。　
　By　now；　the　skinwalker　would　have　followed　her　into　the　roomblocks。　Nora　rested　the　spear　on　her　shoulder。　It　felt　puny；　insubstantial；　in　her　sweaty　fist。　Perhaps　it　was　the　height　of　folly　for　her　to　think　she　could　do　anything　to　save　herself。　But　the　only　other　option　was　to　do　nothing；　to　wait　in　terror　for　the　inevitable　end。　And　she　knew　that…however　quick　and　strong　the　skinwalkers　were…they　were　also　mortal。　
　She　tensed　at　the　faint　sound　of　a　footfall　in　the　room　beyond。　The　sound　of　the　river　was　muffled　here；　inside　the　roomblocks；　and　she　strained　to　listen。　There　was　another　faint　noise。　The　reek　of　flowers　grew　overpowering。　Struggling　to　keep　her　wits　about　her；　Nora　raised　the　spear。　A　shadow；　black　upon　black；　seemed　to　fill　the　doorway。　With　an　involuntary　shout；　she　heaved　the　spear　with　all　the　strength　she　could　muster。　Immediately；　she　jumped　away；　running　through　the　far　door　into　the　last　room　of　the　block。　There　had　been　no　sound；　no　cry；　but　she　thought　she　had　heard　the　deep；　flat　sound　of　the　spear　sinking　into　flesh。　
　She　stumbled　forward；　out　the　doorway　and　onto　the　flat　roof　along　the　front　of　the　structure。　Not　daring　to　pause　for　a　breath；　she　glanced　about　for　a　way　down。　
　There　was　a　sudden　scrabbling　sound　behind　her；　then　a　heavy　weight　fell　across　her　back；　forcing　her　violently　to　the　ground。　Crying　out　in　pain　and　surprise；　she　tried　to　struggle　away。　A　heavy　pelt　of　fur；　dank　with　sweat　and　the　ghastly　stench　of　rotting　flowers；　fell　across　her　face。　She　looked　up　to　see　the　masked　head　rear　back　over　her；　spear　bobbing　from　one　shoulder。　An　arm　raised　up；　obsidian　knife　flashing。　
　With　a　tremendous　effort　she　pulled　herself　to　one　side。　There　was　a　searing　pain　in　her　calf　as　the　knife　struck　a　glancing　blow。　Without　pausing；　she　tumbled　headfirst　off　the　roof　of　the　roomblock。　Landing　in　a　pile　of　sand；　she　scrambled　to　her　feet　and　ran　into　the　protective　shadow　of　the　first…floor　blocks。　She　was　aware　that　she　whimpered　as　she　moved。　Her　leg　throbbed；　and　she　could　feel　the　wet　gush　of　blood　running　down　around　her　ankle。　
　From　behind　came　a　heavy　thump；　as　of　a　large　body　leaping　to　the　ground。　She　ducked　into　the　doorway　of　the　nearest　room；　then　half　ran；　half　limped　through　a　series　of　galleries　to　a　small；　dark　chamber。　Clouds　had　temporarily　veiled　the　moon；　but　she　knew　that　beyond　this　chamber　lay　the　central　plaza。　She　knelt　in　the　close　darkness；　thinking　furiously。　A　rancid　smell　of　blood　filled　her　nostrils：　she　must　have　been　cut　far　deeper　than　she　thought。　
　A　brief　running　patter　brought　her　to　her　feet。　Any　minute；　and　the　moon　would　reappear　from　behind　the　clouds。　It　would　be　the　work　of　thirty　seconds　to　follow　the　trail　of　blood　directly　to　her。　And　then；　the　thick　smell　of　blood　would　be　replaced　by　the　wonderful；　terrible；　scent　of　flowers。　
　As　if　on　cue；　a　ghostly　aura　crept　across　the　walls　of　the　room　as　moonlight　slanted　once　again　into　the　city。　Nora　tensed　herself　for　what　would　be　her　final　run　across　the　plaza　to　the　retaining　wall。　Deep　down；　she　was　well　aware　that　she　could　never　make　it　in　time。　But　she　could　not　bear　to　sit　in　this　room；　cornered　like　a　rat；　awaiting　a　brief；　brutal　end。　
　She　took　a　deep　breath；　then　another。　Then　she　swivelled　to　face　the　doorway　leading　out　of　the　room。　
　And　froze。　
　In　the　far　corner；　illuminated　by　the　sepulchral　moonlight；　lay　Luigi　Bonarotti。　His　glazed　eyes　were　wide　open　in　a　sightless　stare。　In　the　dim　light；　he　seemed　bathed　in　an　even　deeper　shadow　of　blood。　Nora　took　in　the　outrageous；　horrifying　details：　fingers　cut　off；　unbooted　feet　torn　away；　head　partially　scalped。　She　fell　to　her　knees　and　covered　her　mouth；　gagging。　
　As　if　from　a　great　distance；　she　heard　the　skinwalker　moving　in　the　alley　behind　the　roomblocks。　
　She　sat　up　quickly；　her　gaze　returning　to　Bonarotti。　There；　still　holstered　around　his　waist；　was　the　monstrous　gun。　
　She　leaped　for　it；　fumbled　with　the　catch；　and　pulled　it　from　the　holster。　A　。44　magnum　Super　Blackhawk；　deadly　as　hell。　She　wiped　the　bloody　grip　on　her　jeans；　then　scurried　back　against　the　wall　as　another　footstep　sounded；　closer。　
　With　terrible　speed；　the　skinwalker　appeared　in　the　doorway；　thick　pelt　fluttering。　The　white　spots　along　its　midriff　glowed　blue　in　the　moonlight；　and　red　angry　eyes　stared　at　her　from　behind　the　slits　in　the　buckskin　mask。　
　For　an　instant；　it　eyed　Nora　silently。　Then；　with　a　low　growl；　it　sprang　forward。　
　In　the　confines　of　the　small　adobe　room；　the　blast　of　the　。44　was　deafening。　She　closed　her　eyes　against　the　blinding　flash；　letting　her　elbows　and　wrists　absorb　the　mighty　kick。　There　was　a　frenzied　howl。　Squeezing　her　eyes　shut；　she　fired　a　second　time　at　the　sound。　Ears　ringing；　she　scrambled　in　the　direction　of　the　doorway；　then　tripped　and　fell　sprawling　out　into　the　central　plaza。　Quickly；　she　rolled　onto　her　back　and　pointed　the　gun　toward　the　doorway。　The　skinwalker　was　framed　within　it；　crouching；　arms　gripping　its　midriff。　She　could　hear　fluid　pattering　to　the　ground　as　terrible　wounds　in　its　chest　and　stomach　overloaded　the　thick　pelt　with　blood。　It　straightened；　saw　her；　and　leaped　with　a　snarl　of　rage　and　hatred。　She　fired　a　third　time　directly　into　the　mask　and　the　force　of　the　massive　bullet　stopped　the　figure　in　mid…air；　jerking　the　head　back；　whirling　the　body　sharply　to　one　side。　Raising　herself　to　one　knee；　Nora　fired　again；　then　again；　the　mask　disintegrating　into　wet　shreds。　The　smell　of　blood　and　cordite　filled　the　air。　The　skinwalker　thrashed　heavily　in　the　dust；　whirling　and　jerking　in　a　frenzied　dance；　bone　and　matter　glowing　in　the　moonlight；　small　jets　of　arterial　blood　rising　in　an　erratic　cadence；　a　low　furious　cry　gurgling　in　its　throat。　But　still　Nora　pulled　the　trigger；　again　and　again　and　again；　the　hammer　falling　on　empty　chambers　with　a　click　that　could　not　be　heard　above　her　own　cries。　
　And　then；　after　a　long　time；　came　silence。　Painfully；　Nora　raised　herself　to　her　feet。　She　took　two　steps　toward　the　retaining　wall；　faltered；　stepped　forward　again。　Then　she　sank　back　to　the　ground；　laying　the　gun　aside。　It　was　over。　
　There；　at　the　stone　doorstep　of　the　ruined　city；　she　wept　silently。　
　
　
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　AFTER　SEVERAL　MINUTES；　NORA　ONCE　again　rose　unsteadily　to　her　feet。　The　valley　of　Quivira　lay　bathed　in　a　faint　silver　light。　Dark　jewels　winked　and　played　across　the　dappled　surface　of　the　quickly　flowing　river。　Behind　her；　the　bulk　of　the　ancient　city　watched　in　stony　silence。　
　Hesitantly；　like　a　sleepwalker；　she　made　her　way　to　the　front　of　the　ruin。　She　went　a　few　paces；　then　stopped。　There；　a　few　feet　away　from　the　retaining　wall；　was　Sloane's　body；　lying　broken　and　crumpled　in　the　sand。　Nora　took　a　step　closer。　The　amber　eyes　were　black　and　sightless；　overlaid　with　a　dull　sheen　of　moonlight。　The　sand　around　her　was　soaked　in　blood。　Nora　shuddered；　then　glanced　away；　looking　automatically　for　the　body　of　the　skinwalker。　
　It　was　nowhere　to　be　seen。　
　A　sharp　current　of　fear　brought　her　fully　alert　once　more。　She　looked　around　more　carefully。　There；　in　the　sand　half　a　dozen　feet　from　Sloane；　was　a　large；　distorted　hollow：　a　thrashed…out　depression；　smeared　and　sprinkled　with　blood。　A　silver　concho　lay　in　the　sand　beside　it。　But　there　was　no　skinwalker　body。　She　took　an　instinctive　step　back；　hand　rising　to　her　mouth；　eyes　searching　the　dark　city。　But　there　was　nothing。　
　She　ran　to　the　rope　ladder　and　climbed　painfully　down；　still　in　shock。　Reaching　the　bottom；　she　looked　around；　waiting。　There　was　the　medical　tent；　its　beckoning　orange　glow　now　extinguished。　Nora　felt　a　sob　rising　in　her　throat。　Looking　in　the　tent　would　be　the　most　painful　thing　she　could　imagine。　Still；　she　had　to　know　for　herself　if　Smithback　was　dead。　
　She　sprinted　through　the　moonlight　toward　the　camp；　angling　toward　the　medical　tent；　her　torn　calf　protesting　at　every　step。　It　was　worse　than　she　could　have　ever　feared：　the　inside　of　the　tent　had　been　torn　to　ribbons；　equipment　and　supplies　strewn　about；　the　sleeping　bag　shredded。　There　were　spatters　of　blood　everywhere。　But　there　was　no　body。　
　Sobbing　more　loudly　now；　Nora　backed　away；　staggering　in　the　shimmering　moonlight。　〃Damn　you！〃　she　cried；　turning　slowly　in　the　darkness。　〃God　damn　you！〃　
　And　then　she　felt　a　thin；　but　incredibly　strong；　arm　slide　its　way　over　her　shoulders　and　clamp　down　across　her　mouth　and　neck。　For　a　moment；　she　struggled　frantically。　Then　she　went　limp；　unable　to　struggle　further。　
　〃Hush；〃　whispered　the　quiet；　gentle　voice　into　her　ear。　
　The　grip　loosened　and　Nora　turned；　her　eyes　widening　in　wonder。　It　was　John　Beiyoodzin。　
　〃You！〃　she　gasped。　
　In　the　moonlight；　the　old　man's　braids　seemed　to　be　painted　with　quicksilver。　He　touched　a　finger　to　his　lips。　〃I　have　your　friend　hidden　at　the　far　end　of　the　valley。〃　
　〃My　friend？〃　Nora　said；　not　understanding。　
　〃Your　journalist　friend。　Smithback。〃　
　〃Bill　Smithback？　He's　alive？〃　
　Beiyoodzin　nodded。　
　Relief　and　unexpected　joy　flooded　through　her；　and　she　gripped　Beiyoodzin's　hands　with　newfound　strength。　〃Look；　there's　somebody　else　still　missing。　Roscoe　Swire；　our　wrangler…〃　
　Something　in　Beiyoodzin's　expression　stopped　her　from　continuing。　〃The　man　who　watched　your　horses；〃　h