p&c.thunderhead-第97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！


　〃I　didn't　want　things　to　end　up　like　this；〃　she　said；　more　calmly。　〃But　you've　made　it　clear　it's　either　you　or　me。　And　I'm　the　one　holding　the　gun。〃　
　Nora　said　nothing。　
　〃So　turn　around；　Nora。　Walk　to　the　edge　of　the　roof。〃　
　Sloane's　voice　had　grown　very　quiet。　Nora　stared　at　her。　In　the　pale　light；　the　amber　eyes　were　hard　and　dry。　
　Her　gazed　still　locked　on　Sloane；　Nora　took　a　step　backward。　
　〃There's　only　one　bullet　left　in　the　chamber。　But　that's　all　I'll　need；　if　it　es　down　to　that。　So　turn　around；　Nora。　Please。〃　
　Slowly；　Nora　turned　around　to　face　the　night。　
　Open　space　stretched　out　before　her；　a　vast　river　of　darkness。　Across　the　narrow　valley；　Nora　could　make　out　the　dark　violet　of　the　far　wall　of　cliffs。　She　knew　she　should　feel　fear；　regret；　despair。　And　yet　the　only　emotion　she　was　aware　of　was　a　cold　rage：　rage　at　Sloane；　for　her　pathetic；　misplaced　ambition。　One　bullet　。　。　。　she　wondered；　if　she　threw　herself　to　one　side；　whether　she　stood　a　chance　in　hell　of　dodging　that　bullet。　She　tensed；　readying　herself　for　sudden　movement。　
　Sloane　shifted　behind　her。　〃Step　off　the　roof；〃　she　said。　
　But　still　Nora　stood；　eyes　and　ears　open　to　the　night。　The　storm　had　passed。　She　could　hear　the　frogs　calling　from　below；　the　hum　and　drone　of　insects　going　about　their　nocturnal　business。　In　the　intense　stillness；　she　could　even　hear　the　blood　as　it　rushed　through　her　veins。　
　〃I'd　rather　not　shoot　you；〃　she　heard　Sloane　say。　〃But　if　I　have　to；　I　will。〃　
　〃Damn　you；〃　Nora　whispered。　〃Damn　you　for　wrecking　the　expedition。　And　god　damn　you　for　killing　Bill　Smithback。〃　
　〃Smithback？〃　The　tone　in　Sloane's　voice　was　one　of　such　surprise　that；　despite　herself；　Nora　turned　toward　it。　As　she　did；　she　saw　a　form　suddenly　emerge　from　the　hole　in　the　roof：　a　dark；　matted　shape；　wolf　pelt　twisting　around　naked　painted　skin。　Pale　light　glistened　off　a　crimson　patch　of　fur　that　stained　the　figure's　midriff。　
　Sloane　pivoted　as　the　thing　rushed　at　her　with　a　great　howl　of　vengeance。　There　was　a　flash　of　moonlight　on　the　gun；　the　arc　of　a　knife；　and　both　figures　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。　
　
　
66
　
　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　aga