dk.intensity-第23部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　He　applies　the　brakes；　cutting　his　speed。　The　Honda　streaks　past　him；　kicking　up　a　high　spray　of　dirty　water。　It　enters　the　curve　ahead　with　a　flash　of　brake　lights：　red　in　the　black　storm；　red　glimmering　off　the　damp　gray　bark　of　the　big　conifers；　apocalyptic　tracers　of　red　rippling　across　the　pavement。　Then　gone。
　Edgler　Vess　is　alone　again；　behind　the　wheel　of　his　ark；　in　a　colorless　world　of　gray　rain；　black　shadows；　and　sparkling　white　headlight　beams；　at　peace　to　mune　with　the　redwoods　and　draw　from　them　a　measure　of　their　power。
　He　thinks　of　Christ　on　the　vertical　bed　of　dogwood；　and　the　idea　of　the　meek　inheriting　the　earth　makes　him　smile。　He　doesn't　wish　to　inherit　anything。　He　is　a　raging　fire；　powerful　and　hot；　he　will　burn　all　the　color　out　of　this　world；　consume　every　scintilla　of　sensation　that　it　has　to　offer；　and　he　will　leave　behind　a　realm　of　ashes。　Let　the　meek　inherit　ashes。
　Passing　the　motor　home；　going　too　fast　to　prevent　the　Honda　from　straddling　the　double　yellow　line　all　the　way　around　the　curve；　Chyna　had　been　afraid　that　the　parched　engine　would　cough　and　choke　and　fail。　Now　that　she　had　seen　the　red　warning　light；　she　was　aware　of　it…a　peripheral　radiance…even　when　she　wasn't　looking　at　the　instrument　panel。　But　the　Honda　ran　confidently　on　dregs；　on　fumes；　on　some　strange　grace。
　She　needed　to　put　distance　between　herself　and　the　killer；　and　gain　time　to　set　her　plan　in　motion。　She　pushed　the　car　as　hard　as　she　dared　on　the　storm…greased　pavement。
　The　narrow　road　rounded　another　bend；　straightened　out；　entered　a　gradual　descent；　took　another　curve；　rose　on　a　gentle　slope；　but　descended　again；　and　in　spite　of　the　intermittent　interruptions　of　these　extremely　low　inclines；　the　land　was　generally　monotonous　in　its　contours；　making　its　way　steadily　down　toward　the　Pacific；　not　many　miles　to　the　west。　Now　low　ramparts　of　soft　earth　flanked　the　blacktop　just　beyond　both　shoulders；　and　this　wasn't　suitable　for　her　purposes。　But　then　the　road　returned　to　the　same　level　as　the　surrounding　forest；　and　she　entered　another　almost　imperceptibly　declining　straightaway　and　found　the　ideal　circumstances　she　required。
　She　figured　that　she　had　gained　a　full　minute　on　him；　maybe　a　minute　and　a　half；　depending　on　whether　he　had　appreciably　increased　his　speed　after　she　passed　him。　Anyway；　a　minute　should　be　long　enough。
　She　slowed　to　thirty　miles　an　hour　and　nonetheless　seemed　to　be　burtfing　through　the　woods。　She　let　the　speed　decrease　to　twenty…five；　wondering　again　about　her　headlong　rush　to　heroism　but　still　unable　to　fully　understand　it。　Then　she　drove　off　the　roadway；　flew　across　the　right　shoulder；　thumped　through　a　shallow　drainage　swale；　and　rammed　into　the　fortress　base　of　one　of　the　biggest　of　the　redwoods。　The　left　headlight　burst；　the　impact…absorbing　bumper　cracked　and　crumpled　and　collapsed　as　it　had　been　designed　to　do；　and　metal　shrieked　briefly。
　Because　she　was　wearing　a　safety　harness；　she　wasn't　thrown　into　the　steering　wheel　or　through　the　windshield。　But　the　diagonal　strap　tightened　so　hard　across　her　breasts　that　she　grunted　with　shock　and　pain。
　The　engine　was　still　running。　With　no　time　to　get　out　and　inspect　the　front　of　the　car；　Chyna　was　afraid　that　the　damage　wasn't　sufficiently　impressive　to　convince　the　killer　that　someone　could　have　been　injured　in　the　crash。　When　he　came　upon　this　scene　a　few　seconds　from　now；　he　must　take　everything　at　face　value　without　hesitation。　Otherwise；　if　he　was　suspicious；　nothing　would　work　as　she　had　planned。
　Immediately　she　shifted　the　Honda　into　reverse　and　backed　away　from　the　tree；　which　stood　inviolate。　The　ground　was　carpeted　with　wet　redwood　needles　on　which　the　tires　spun　before　gripping；　but　not　enough　rain　had　fallen　to　churn　the　earth　into　mud。　Rattling　and　clinking；　the　car　bounced　across　the　shallow　drainage　swale；　which　ran　with　only　an　inch　or　two　of　muddy　water；　and　backed　onto　the　pavement　again。
　Chyna　glanced　toward　the　top　of　the　gently　ascending　slope　down　which　she　had　just　driven。　As　yet　there　was　not　even　a　faint　glow　of　approaching　headlights　from　beyond　the　curve。
　He　was　ing。　No　doubt　about　that。　Soon。　She　didn't　have　time　to　reverse　even　part　of　the　way　up　the　slope。　But　she　needed　to　build　a　little　speed。
　With　her　left　foot；　she　tramped　the　brake　pedal　as　far　toward　the　floorboards　as　it　would　go；　and　with　her　right　foot　she　eased　down　on　the　accelerator。　The　engine　whined；　then　shrieked。　The　car　strained　like　a　spurred　horse　pressing　against　the　gate　of　a　rodeo　chute。　She　could　feel　it　wanting　to　surge　forward；　as　if　it　were　a　living　thing；　and　she　wondered　how　much　acceleration　would　be　too　much；　enough　to　kill　her　or　trap　her　in　wreckage。　Then　she　gave　it　a　little　more　juice；　smelled　something　burning；　and　raised　her　left　foot　from　the　brake　pedal。
　The　tires　spun　furiously　on　the　glistering　blacktop；　and　then　with　a　shudder　the　Honda　shot　forward；　rattled　and　splashed　across　the　ditch；　and　slammed　into　the　trunk　of　the　redwood。　The　right　headlight　burst；　metal　squealed；　the　hood　crumpled　and　tweaked　and　popped　open　with　a　sound　oddly　like　a　hard　strum　on　a　banjo；　but　the　windshield　didn't　shatter。
　The　engine　stuttered。　Either　the　fuel　had　been　exhausted　at　last　or　the　crash　had　done　severe　mechanical　damage。
　Gasping　for　breath　after　the　cinching　punishment　of　the　shoulder　harness；　praying　that　the　engine　wouldn't　fail　just　yet；　Chyna　popped　the　car　into　reverse　again。
　Ideally；　the　Honda　would　be　blocking　the　road　when　the　killer　came　around　the　bend。　She　had　to　force　him　to　stop…and　to　get　out　of　his　motor　home。
　The　battered　car　wheezed；　almost　stalled；　then　unexpectedly　revved；　and　Chyna　said　gratefully；　〃Jesus；〃　as　it　rolled　backward　onto　the　pavement。
　She　pulled　across　both　lanes　but　swung　around　a　little；　angling　the　car　uphill　so　the　killer　would　be　able　to　see　the　damaged　front　end　as　soon　as　he　negotiated　the　curve。
　The　engine　clunked　twice　and　died；　but　that　was　all　right。　She　was　in　position。
　Without　the　engine　noise　for　petition；　the　rain　seemed　to　be　falling　more　forcefully　than　before；　rattling　on　the　roof　and　snapping　against　the　glass。
　At　the　upper　curve；　darkness　still　held。　She　put　the　Honda　in　park；　so　it　would　not　coast　backward　when　she　took　her　foot　off　the　brake。
　The　headlights　were　both　broken　out；　but　the　windshield　wipers　continued　to　thump　back　and　forth；　operating　on　battery　power。　She　didn't　switch　them　off。
　She　opened　the　driver's　door　and；　feeling　horribly　exposed　in　the　dome　light；　started　to　get　out。　She　needed　to　be　away　from　the　car　and　in　hiding　by　the　time　the　motor　home　appeared…which　would　be　in　maybe　twenty　seconds；　maybe　ten；　hard　to　say　because　she　had　lost　track　of　how　much　time　had　passed　since　she　herself　had　driven　around　the　bend。
　The　gun。　Before　she　fully　escaped　the　car；　Chyna　remembered　the　revolver。　She　swung　back　inside；　reached　for　the　weapon…but　it　was　no　longer　on　the　seat。
　In　the　first　or　second　crash；　the　gun　must　have　been　thrown　onto　the　floor。　Leaning　across　the　console　between　the　front　seats；　she　felt　frantically　in　the　darkness；　found　cold　steel；　the　barrel；　her　finger　actually　slipping　into　the　smooth　muzzle。　With　a　wordless　murmur　of　relief；　she　fished　the　gun　from　the　foot　space　and　reversed　her　grip　on　it。
　With　the　weapon　firmly　in　hand；　she　scrambled　out　of　the　Honda。　She　left　the　driver's　door　standing　open。
　Rain　chilled　her；　and　wind。　In　the　direction　from　which　she　had　e；　the　night　brightened　faintly；　and　the　redwood　trunks　near　the　shoulder　of　the　curve　began　to　glow　as　if　in　the　radiance　of　a　sudden　moon。
　Chyna　sprinted　off　the　slippery　blacktop　and　splashed　through　another　shallow　drainage　ditch；　shuddering　as　the　icy　water　poured　over　the　tops　of　her　shoes。　On　this　side　of　the　pavement；　the　trees　were　set　back　twenty　or　thirty　feet　from　the　shoulder。　She　headed　for　the　colossal　woods　at　a　point　directly　across　the　highway　from　the　behemoth　into　which　she　had　driven　the　Honda。
　Long　before　she　reached　the　nearest　tree；　she　skidded　on　the　spongy　mat　of　wet　needles；　fell；　and　landed　on　a　cluster　of　redwood　cones。　The　cones　crumbled　slightly　a　hard　crunching　sound　against　the　small　of　her　back…although　judging　by　the　flash　of　pain；　it　almost　seemed　as　though　her　spine　was　the　source　of　the　cracking。
　She　would　have　preferred　to　crawl　on　her　hands　and　knees　to　concealment；　but　she　had　to　hold　on　to　the　revolver；　and　she　was　concerned　that；　crawling；　she　would　inadvertently　plug　the　barrel　with　dirt　or　wet　needles。　She　was　up　and　moving　at　once；　therefore；　as　the　highway　behind　her　flared　with　light　and　an　engine　quarreled　noisily　with　the　storm。
　The　motor　home　had　turned　the　bend。　She　was　only　fifteen　feet　or　so　from　the　highway；　which　wasn't　far　enough；　because　there　was　little　underbrush　to　provide　cover　beneath　the　giant　redwoods…largely　ferns；　and　more　of　them　in　the　gloom　ahead　than　in　the　area　immediately　around　her。　He　must　not　see　her。　All　was　lost　if　he　glimpsed　her　as　she　dashed　for　cover。
　Fortunately；　her　blue　jeans　were　dark；　not　stone…washed　and　highly　reflective；　and　her　sweater　was　cranberry　red；　which　was　not　as　bad　as　if　it　had　been　white　or　yellow；　and　her　hair　was　not　blond　but　dark。　Yet　she　could　have　felt　no　more　visible　if　she　had　been　trying　to　run　to　cover　in　a　wedding　dress。
　He　would　be　focused　on　the　Honda；　surprised　to　see　it　angled　across　both　lanes。　He　wouldn't　immediately　glance　to　either　side　of　the　highway；　and　when　his　attention　did　flicker　away　from　the　car；　he　was　likely　to　look　to　the　right；　where　the　Honda　had　run　off　the　road　and　struck　the　tree；　not　to　the　left；　where　Chyna　was　seeking　shelter。
　Telling　herself　that　she　was　safe　and　had　not　been　seen；　but　not　actually　believing　herself；　she　reached　the　first　phalanx　of　massive　redwoods。　They　grew　astonishingly　close　to　one　another；　considering　their　daunting　size。　She　slipped　around　the　deeply　corrugated　trunk　of　a　fifteen…foot…diameter　giant　that　thrived　in　such　intimacy　with　an　even　larger　specimen　that　the　passageway　between　the　towering　pair　was　less　than　two　feet。
　The　lowest　branches　above　her　were　a　hundred　fifty　to　a　hundred　eighty　feet　off　the　ground；　visible　only　when　lightnin