df.theedge-第50部分

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　　I　didn't　see　the　danger　in　time；　and　it　didn't　growl；　it　wasn't　a　bear；　it　had　two　legs　and　it　was　human。　He　must　have　been　hiding　behind　rocks　or　trees　in　the　shadow　thrown　by　my　torch。　I　saw　his　movement　in　the　very　edge　of　my　peripheral　vision　after　I'd　passed　him。　I　sensed　an　upswept　arm；　a　weapon；　a　blow　ing。
　　There　was　barely　a　hundredth　of　a　second　for　instinctive　。　evasion。　All　I　did　as　I　ran　was　to　lean　forward　a　fraction　so　that　the　smash　came　across　my　shoulders；　not　on　my　head。
　　It　felt　as　if　I　had　cracked　apart；　but　I　hadn't。　Feet；　hands；　muscles　were　all　working。　I　staggered　forward；　dropped　the　flares　and　the　torch；　went　down　on　one　knee；　knew　another　bang　was　travelling。　Thought　before　action。。。　I　didn't　have　time。　I　turned　towards　him；　not　away。　Turned　inside　and　under　the　swinging　arm；　rising；　butting　upwards　with　my　head　to　find　the　aggressive　chin；　jerking　my　knee　fiercely　to　contact　between　the　braced　legs；　punching　with　clenched　fist　and　the　force　of　fury　into　the　Adam's　apple　in　his　throat。　One　of　the　many　useful　things　I'd　learned　on　my　travels　was　how　to　fight　dirty；　and　never　had　I　needed　the　knowledge　more。
　　He　grunted　and　wheezed　with　triple　unexpected　pain　and　dropped　to　his　knees　on　the　ground；　and　I　wrenched　the　long　piece　of　wood　from　his　slackening　hand　and　hit　his　own　head　with　it；　hoping　I　was　doing　it　hard　enough　to　knock　him　out；　not　hard　enough　to　kill　him。　He　fell　quietly　face　down　in　the　snow　between　the　rails；　and　I　rolled　him　over　with　my　foot；　and　in　the　deflected　beam　of　the　torch　which　lay　unbroken　a　few　paces　away；　saw　the　gaunt　features　of　the　man　called　Johnson。
　　He　had　got；　I　reckoned；　a　lot　more　than　he　was　used　to；　and　I　felt　intense　satisfaction　which　was　no　doubt　reprehensible　but　couldn't　be　helped。
　　I　bent　down；　lifted　one　of　his　wrists　and　hauled　him　unceremoniously　over　the　rail　and　into　the　shadows　away　from　the　track。　He　was　heavy。　Also　the　damage　he'd　done　me；　when　it　came　to　lugging　unconscious　persons　about；　was　all　too　obvious。　He　might　not　have　broken　my　back；　which　was　what　it　had　sounded　like；　but　there　were　some　badly　squashed　muscle　fibres　somewhere　that　weren't　in　first…class　working　order　and　were　sending　stabbing　messages　of　protest　besides。
　　I　picked　up　the　torch　and　looked　for　the　flares；　filled　with　an　increased　feeling　of　urgency；　of　time　running　out。　I　found　three　of　the　flares；　couldn't　see　the　fourth；　decided　not　to　waste　time；　thought　the　bears　would　have　to　lump　it。
　　Must　be　lightheaded；　I　thought。　Got　to　get　moving。　I　hadn't　e　anything　like　half　a　mile　away　from　the　train。　I　swung　the　beam　back　the　way　I'd　e；　but　the　train　was　out　of　sight　round　a　corner　that　I　hadn't　noticed　taking。　For　a　desperate　moment　I　couldn't　remember　which　direction　I'd　e　from：　too　utterly　stupid　if　I　ran　the　wrong　way。
　　Think；　for　God's　sake。
　　I　swung　the　torch　both　ways　along　the　track。　Trees；　rocks；　silver　parallel　rails；　all　exactly　similar。
　　Which　way？　Think。
　　I　walked　one　way　and　it　felt　wrong。　I　turned　and　went　back。　That　was　right。　It　felt　right。　It　was　the　wind　on　my　face；　I　thought。　I'd　been　running　before　into　the　wind。
　　The　rails；　the　ties　seemed　to　stretch　to　infinity。　I　was　going　uphill　also；　I　thought。　Another　bend　to　the　right　lay　ahead。
　　How　long　did　half　a　mile　take？　I　stole　a　glance　at　my　watch；　rolling　my　wrist　round　which　hurt　somewhere　high　up；　but　with　remote　pain；　not　daunting。　Couldn't　believe　the　figures。　Ten　minutes　only。。。　or　twelve。。。　since　I'd　set　off。
　　A　mile　in　ten　minutes　was　ordinarily　easy。。。　but　not　a　mile　of　sleepers　and　stones。
　　Johnson　had　been　waiting　for　me；　I　thought。　Not　for　me　personally；　but　for　whomever　would　e　running　from　the　train　with　the　flares。
　　Which　meant　he　knew　the　radio　wouldn't　work。
　　I　began　actively　to　worry　about　George　being　missing。
　　Perhaps　Johnson　had　fixed　the　hot　box；　to　begin　with。
　　Johnson　had　meant　the　trains　to　crash　with　himself　safely　away　to　the　rear。　Johnson　was　darned　well　not　going　to　succeed。
　　With　renewed　purpose；　with　perhaps　at　last　a　feeling　that　all　this　was　really　happening　and　that　I　could　indeed　stop　the　Canadian；　I　pressed　on　along　the　track。
　　George's　voice　floated　into　my　head；　telling　me　about　the　row　between　Johnson　and　Filmer。　Filmer　told　Johnson　not　to　do　something；　Johnson　said；　'I'll　do　what　I　frigging　like。'　Filmer　could　have　told　him　not　to　try　any　more　sabotage　tricks　on　the　train；　realizing　that　trouble　was　anyway　mounting　up　for　him；　trouble　from　which　he　might　not　be　able　to　extricate　himself　if　anything　disastrous　happened。
　　Johnson；　once　started；　couldn't　be　stopped。　'Easier　to　start　a　train　running　downhill　than　to　stop　it；　eh？'　Johnson　with　a　chip　on　his　shoulder　from　way　back；　the　ex…railwayman；　the　violent　frightener。
　　I　had　to　have　gone　well　over　half　a　mile；　I　thought。　Half　a　mile　hadn't　sounded　far　enough：　the　train　itself　was　a　quarter　mile　long。　I　stopped　and　looked　at　my　watch。　The　Canadian　would　e　in　a　very　few　minutes。　There　was　another　curve　just　ahead。　I　mustn't　leave　it　too　late。
　　I　ran　faster；　round　the　curve　There　was　another　curve　in　a　further　hundred　yards；　but　it　would　have　to　do。　I　put　the　torch　down　beside　the　track；　rubbed　the　end　of　one　of　the　flares　sharply　against　one　of　the　rails；　and　begged　it；　implored　it；　to　ignite。
　　It　lit　with　a　huge　red　rush　for　which　I　was　not　prepared。　Nearly　dropped　it。　Rammed　the　spike　into　the　wood　of　one　of　the　ties。
　　The　flare　burned　in　a　brilliant　fiery　scarlet　that　would　have　been　visible　for　a　mile；　if　only　the　track　had　been　straight。
　　I　picked　up　the　torch　and　ran　on　round　the　next　bend；　the　red　fire　behind　me　washing　all　the　snow　with　pink　Round　that　bend　there　was　a　much　longer　straight　I　ran　a　good　way；　then　stopped　again　and　lit　a　second　flare；　jamming　its　point　into　the　wood　as　before。
　　The　Canadian　had　to　be　almost　there。　I'd　lost　count　of　the　time。　The　Canadian　would　e　with　its　bright　headlights　and　see　the　flare　and　stop　with　plenty　of　margin　in　hand。
　　I　saw　pin…point　lights　in　the　distance。　I　hadn't　known　we　were　anywhere　near　habitation。　Then　I　realized　the　lights　were　moving；　ing　The　Canadian　seemed　to　be　advancing　slowly　at　first。　and　then　faster。。。　and　it　wasn't　stopping。。　There　was　no　screech　of　brakes　urgently　applied。
　　With　a　feeling　of　dreadful　foreboding；　I　struck　the　third　flare　forcefully　against　the　rail；　almost　broke　it；　felt　it　whoosh；　stood　waving　it　beside　the　track；　beside　the　other　flare　stuck　in　the　wood
　　The　Canadian　came　straight　on。　I　couldn't　bear　it；　couldn't　believe　it。　It　was　almost　impossible　to　throw　the　flare　through　the　window。。　the　window　was　too　small；　too　high　up；　and　moving　at　thirty…five　miles　an　hour。　I　felt　puny　on　the　ground　beside　the　huge　roaring　advance　of　the　yellow　bulk　of　the　inexorable　engine　with　its　blinding　lights　and　absence　of　brain
　　It　was　there。　Then　or　never。　There　were　no　faces　looking　out　from　the　cab。　I　yelled　in　a　frenzy。　'Stop'；　and　the　sound　blew　away　futilely　on　the　bow　wave　of　parting　air。
　　I　threw　the　flare。　Threw　it　high；　threw　it　too　soon；　missed　the　empty　black　window。
　　The　flare　flew　forward　of　it　and　hit　the　outside　of　the　windscreen；　and　fell　on　to　the　part　of　the　engine　sticking　out　in　front；　and　then　all　sight　of　it　was　gone；　the　whole　long　heavy　silver　train　rolling　past　me　at　a　constant　speed；　making　the　ground　tremble；　extinguishing　beneath　it　the　second　flare　I'd　planted　in　its　path　It　went　on　its　mindless　way；　swept　round　the　curve；　and　was　gone。
　　I　felt　disintegrated　and　sick；　failure　flooding　back　in　the　pain　I'd　disregarded。　The　trains　would　fold　into　each　other；　would　concertina；　would　heap　into　killing　chaos。。。。　In　despair；　I　picked　up　the　torch　and　began　to　jog　the　way　the　Canadian　had　gone。　I　would　have　to　face　what　I　hadn't　been　able　to　prevent；　have　to　help　even　though　I　felt　wretchedly　guilty。。。　couldn't　bear　the　thought　of　the　Canadian　ploughing　into　the　Lorrimores'　car。。　someone　would　have　warned　the　Lorrimores。。。　oh　God；　oh　God　。。。　someone　must　have　warned　the　Lorrimores。。。　and　everyone　else。　They　would　all　be　out　of　the　train；　away　from　the　track。。　Nell。。。　Zak。。。　everybody。
　　I　ran　round　the　curve。　Ahead；　lying　beside　the　track；　still　burning；　was　the　flare　I'd　thrown。　Fallen　off　the　engine。　The　first　flare　that　I'd　planted　a　hundred　yards　ahead　before　the　next　curve　had　vanished　altogether；　swept　away　by　the　Canadian。
　　There　was　nothing。　No　noise；　except　the　sighing　wind。　I　wondered　helplessly　when　I　would　hear　the　crash　I　had　no　idea　how　far　away　the　race　train　was；　how　far　I'd　run。
　　Growing　cold　and　with　leaden　feet；　I　plodded　past　the　fallen　flare　and　along　and　round　the　next　bend；　and　round　the　long　curve　following。　I　hadn't　heard　the　screech　of　metal　tearing　into　metal；　though　it　reverberated　in　my　head。　They　must　have　warned　the　Lorrimores；　they　must　。。。　I　shivered　among　the　freezing　mountains　from　far　more　than　frost。
　　There　were　two　red　lights　on　the　rails　far　ahead。　Not　bright　and　burning　like　the　flares；　but　small　and　insignificant；　like　reflectors　I　wondered　numbly　what　they　were；　and　it　wasn't　until　I'd　gone　about　five　more　paces　that　I　realized　that　they　weren't　reflectors；　they　were　lights。。。　stationary　lights。。。　and　I　began　running　faster　again；　hardly　daring　to　hope；　but　then　seeing　that　they　were　indeed　the　rear　lights　of　a　train。。。　a　train。。。　it　could　be　only　one　train。。。　there　had　been　no　night…tearing　crash。。。。　The　Canadian　had　stopped。　I　felt　swamped　with　relief；　near　to　tears；　breathless。　It　had　stopped。。。　there　was　no　collision　。。。　no　tragedy。。。　it　had　stopped。
　　I　ran　towards　the　lights；　seeing　the　bulk　of　the　train　now　in　the　torch's　beam；　unreasonably　afraid　that　the　engineers　would　set　off　again　and　accelerate　away。　I　ran　until　I　was　panting；　until　I　could　touch　the　train。　I　ran　alongside　it；　sprinting　now；　urgent　to　tell　them　not　to　go　on。
　　There　were　several　people　on　the　ground　up　by　the　engine。　They　could　see　someone　running　towards　them　with　a　torch；　and　when　I　was　fairly　near　to　them；　one　of　them　shouted　out　authoritatively；　'Get　back　on　the　train；　there's　no　need　for　people　to　be　out　here。'
　　I　slowed　to　a　walk；　very　out　of　breat