dk.solesurvivor-第57部分

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ow　at　Joe's　hand　as　he　tried　to　knock　it　away；　holding　fast　to　sleeve　and　hair；　determined　not　to　be　dislodged。　Pecking；　pecking　at　his　face　now；　going　for　his　eyes；　Jesus；　a　flash　of　pain　as　it　tore　open　his　cheek。　Seize　it。　Stop　it。　Crush　it　quickly。　Peck；　the　darting　head；　the　bloody　beak；　peck；　and　it　got　his　brow　this　time；　above　his　right　eye；　sure　to　blind　him　with　the　next　thrust。　He　clenched　his　hand　around　it；　and　its　talons　tore　at　the　cuff　of　his　coat　sleeve　now；　tore　at　his　wrist；　wings　beating　against　his　face；　and　it　bobbed　its　head；　the　wicked　beak　darting　at　him；　but　he　held　it　off；　the　hooked　yellow　point　snapping　an　inch　short　of　a　blinding　wound；　the　beady　eyes　glaring　fiercely　and　blood…red　with　reflections　of　fire。　Squeeze　it；　squeeze　the　life　out　of　it；　with　its　racing　heart　stuttering　against　his　relentless　palm。　Its　bones　were　thin　and　hollow；　which　made　it　light　enough　to　fly　with　grace…but　which　also　made　it　easier　to　break。　Joe　felt　its　breast　crumple；　and　he　threw　it　away　from　the　girl；　watched　it　tumble　along　the　deer　trail；　disabled　but　still　alive；　wings　flapping　weakly　but　unable　to　lift　into　the　night。
　　Joe　pushed　Nina's　tangled　hair　away　from　her　face。　She　was　all　right。　Her　eyes　had　not　been　hit。　In　fact；　she　was　unmarked；　and　he　was　overe　by　a　rush　of　pride　that　he　had　prevented　the　hawk　from　getting　at　her。
　　Blood　oozed　from　his　slashed　brow；　around　the　curve　of　the　socket；　and　into　the　corner　of　his　eye；　blurring　his　vision。　Blood　streamed　from　the　wound　in　his　cheek；　dripped　from　his　pecked　and　stinging　hand；　from　his　gouged　wrist。
　　He　retrieved　the　pistol；　engaged　the　safety；　and　jammed　the　weapon　under　his　waistband　again。
　　From　out　of　the　surrounding　woods　issued　a　bleat　of　animal　terror；　which　abruptly　cut　off；　and　then　across　the　mountainside；　over　the　howling　of　the　wind；　a　sharp　shriek　sliced　through　the　night。　Something　was　ing。
　　Maybe　the　boy　had　gained　more　control　of　his　talent　during　the　year　that　Rose　had　been　on　the　run；　and　maybe　now　he　was　more　capable　of　remoting　someone　in　the　outdoors。　Or　perhaps　the　coalesced　power　of　his　psychogeist　was　radiating　away　like　the　heat　from　a　rock；　as　Rose　had　explained；　but　just　wasn't　dispersing　fast　enough　to　bring　a　quick　end　to　this　assault。
　　Because　of　the　blustery　wind　and　the　express…train　roar　of　the　wildfire；　Joe　couldn't　be　certain　from　which　direction　the　cry　had　arisen；　and　now　the　boy；　clothed　in　the　flesh　of　his　host；　was　ing　silently。
　　Joe　scooped　the　girl　off　the　deer　trail；　cradling　her　in　his　arms。　They　needed　to　keep　moving；　and　until　his　energy　faded；　he　could　move　faster　through　the　woods　if　he　carried　her　than　if　he　led　her　by　the　hand。
　　She　was　so　small。　He　was　scared　by　how　small　she　was；　nearly　as　breakable　as　the　avian　bones　of　the　hawk。
　　She　clung　to　him；　and　he　tried　to　smile　at　her。　In　the　hellish　leaping　light；　his　flaring　eyes　and　strained　grin　were　probably　more　frightening　than　reassuring。
　　The　mad　boy　in　his　new　incarnation　was　not　the　only　threat　they　faced。　The　explosive　Santa　Ana　wind　threw　bright　rags；　threw　sheets；　threw　great　billowing　sails　of　fire　across　the　flank　of　the　mountain。　The　pines　were　dry　from　the　hot　rainless　summer；　their　hark　rich　with　turpentine；　and　they　burst　into　flame　as　though　they　were　made　of　gasoline…soaked　rags。
　　Ramparts　of　fire　at　least　three　hundred　feet　across　blocked　the　way　back　to　the　cabin。　They　could　not　get　around　the　blaze　and　behind　it；　because　it　was　spreading　laterally　faster　than　they　could　hike　through　the　underbrush　and　across　the　rugged　terrain。
　　At　the　same　time；　the　fire　was　ing　toward　them。　Fast。
　　Joe　stood　with　Nina　in　his　arms；　riveted　and　dismayed　by　the　sight　of　the　towering　wall　of　fire；　and　he　realized　that　they　had　no　choice　but　to　abandon　the　car。　They　would　have　to　make　the　trip　out　of　the　mountains　entirely　on　foot。
　　With　a　hot　whoosh；　roiling　gouts　of　wind…harried　flames　spewed　through　the　treetops　immediately　overhead；　like　a　deadly　blast　from　a　futuristic　plasma　weapon。　The　pine　boughs　exploded；　and　burning　masses　of　needles　and　cones　tumbled　down　through　lower　branches；　igniting　everything　as　they　descended；　and　suddenly　Joe　and　Nina　were　in　a　tunnel　of　fire。
　　He　hurried　with　the　girl　in　his　arms；　away　from　the　cabin；　along　the　narrow　deer　trail；　remembering　stories　of　people　caught　in　California　brushfires　and　unable　to　outrun　them；　sometimes　not　even　able　to　out　drive　them　when　the　wind　was　particularly　fierce。　Maybe　the　flames　couldn't　accelerate　through　this　density　of　trees　as　quickly　as　through　dry　brush。　Or　maybe　the　pines　were　even　more　acmodating　fuel　than　mesquite　and　manzanita　and　grass。
　　Just　as　they　escaped　the　tunnel　of　fire；　more　rippling　flags　of　flames　unfurled　across　the　sky　overhead；　and　again　the　treetops　in　front　of　them　ignited。　Burning　needles　swarmed　down　like　bright　bees；　and　Joe　was　afraid　his　hair　would　catch　fire；　Nina's　hair；　their　clothes。　The　tunnel　was　growing　in　length　as　fast　as　they　could　run　through　it。
　　Smoke　plagued　him　now。　As　the　blaze　rapidly　intensified；　it　generated　winds　of　its　own；　adding　to　the　force　of　the　Santa　Anas；　building　toward　a　firestorm；　and　the　blistering　gales　first　blew　tatters　of　smoke　along　the　deer　trail　and　then　choking　masses。
　　The　cloistered　path　led　upward；　and　though　the　degree　of　slope　was　not　great；　Joe　became　more　quickly　winded　than　he　had　expected。　Incredible　withering　heat　wrung　oceans　of　sweat　from　him。　Gasping　for　breath；　sucking　in　the　astringent　fumes　and　greasy　soot；　choking；　gagging；　spitting　out　saliva　thickened　and　soured　by　the　flavour　of　the　fire；　desperately　holding　onto　Nina；　he　reached　a　ridgeline。
　　The　pistol　under　his　waistband　pressed　painfully　against　his　stomach　as　he　ran。　If　he　could　have　let　go　of　Nina　with　one　hand；　he　would　have　drawn　the　weapon　and　thrown　it　away。　He　was　afraid　that　he　was　too　weak　to　hold　onto　her　with　one　arm；　that　he　would　drop　her；　so　he　endured　the　gouging　steel。
　　As　he　crossed　the　narrow　crest　and　followed　the　descending　trail；　he　discovered　that　the　wind　was　less　furious　on　this　side　of　the　ridge。　Even　though　the　flames　surged　across　the　brow；　the　speed　at　which　the　fire　line　advanced　now　dropped　enough　to　allow　him　to　get　out　of　the　incendiary　zone　and　ahead　of　the　smoke；　where　the　clean　air　was　so　sweet　that　he　groaned　at　the　cool；　clear　taste　of　it。
　　Joe　was　running　on　an　adrenaline　high；　far　beyond　his　normal　level　of　endurance；　and　if　not　for　the　bolstering　effect　of　panic；　he　might　have　collapsed　before　he　topped　the　ridge。　His　leg　muscles　ached。　His　arms　were　turning　to　lead　under　the　weight　of　the　girl。　They　were　not　safe；　however；　so　he　kept　going；　stumbling　and　weaving；　blinking　tears　of　weariness　out　of　his　smoke…stung　eyes；　nevertheless　pressing　steadily　forward…until　the　snarling　coyote　slammed　into　him　from　behind；　biting　savagely　at　the　hollow　of　his　back　but　capturing　only　folds　of　his　corduroy　jacket　in　its　jaws。
　　The　impact　staggered　him；　eighty　or　ninety　pounds　of　lupine　fury。　He　almost　fell　facedown　onto　the　trail；　with　Nina　under　him；　except　that　the　weight　of　the　coyote；　hanging　on　him；　acted　as　a　counterbalance；　and　he　stayed　erect。
　　The　jacket　ripped；　and　the　coyote　let　go；　fell　away。
　　Joe　skidded　to　a　halt；　put　Nina　down；　spun　toward　the　predator；　drawing　the　pistol　from　his　waistband；　thankful　that　he　had　not　pitched　it　away　earlier。
　　Back　lighted　by　the　ridgeline　fire；　the　coyote　confronted　Joe。　It　was　so　like　a　wolf　but　leaner；　rangier；　with　bigger　ears　and　a　narrower　muzzle；　black　lips　skinned　back　from　bared　fangs；　scarier　than　a　wolf　might　have　been；　especially　because　of　the　spirit　of　the　vicious　boy　curled　like　a　serpent　in　its　skull。　Its　glowering　eyes　were　luminous　and　yellow。
　　Joe　pulled　the　trigger；　but　the　gun　didn't　fire。　He　remembered　the　safety。
　　The　coyote　skittered　toward　him；　staying　low；　quick　but　wary；　snapping　at　his　ankles；　and　Joe　danced　frantically　backward　to　avoid　being　bitten；　thumbing　off　the　safety　as　he　went。
　　The　animal　snaked　around　him；　snarling；　snapping；　foam　flying　from　its　jaws。　Its　teeth　sank　into　his　right　calf。
　　He　cried　out　in　pain；　and　twisted　around；　trying　to　get　a　shot　at　the　damn　thing；　but　it　turned　as　he　did；　ferociously　worrying　the　flesh　of　his　calf　until　he　thought　he　was　going　to　pass　out　from　the　crackling　pain　that　flashed　like　a　series　of　electrical　shocks　all　the　way　up　his　leg　into　his　hip。
　　Abruptly　the　coyote　let　go　and　shrank　away　from　Joe　as　if　in　fear　and　confusion。
　　Joe　swung　toward　the　animal；　cursing　it　and　tracking　it　with　the　pistol。
　　The　beast　was　no　longer　in　an　attack　mode。　It　whined　and　surveyed　the　surrounding　night　in　evident　perplexity。
　　With　his　finger　on　the　trigger；　Joe　hesitated。
　　Tilting　its　head　back；　regarding　the　lambent　moon；　the　coyote　whined　again。　Then　it　looked　toward　the　top　of　the　ridge。
　　The　fire　was　no　more　than　a　hundred　yards　away。　The　scorching　wind　suddenly　accelerated；　and　the　flames　climbed　gusts　higher　into　the　night。
　　The　coyote　stiffened　and　pricked　its　ears。　When　the　fire　surged　once　more；　the　coyote　bolted　past　Joe　and　Nina；　oblivious　of　them；　and　disappeared　at　a　lope　into　the　canyon　below。
　　At　last　defeated　by　the　draining　vastness　of　these　open　spaces；　the　boy　had　lost　his　grip　on　the　animal　and　Joe　sensed　that　nothing　spectral　hovered　any　longer　in　the　woods。
　　The　firestorm　rolled　at　them　again；　blinding　waves　of　flames；　a　cataclysmic　tide　breaking　through　the　forest。
　　With　his　bitten　leg；　limping　badly；　Joe　wasn't　able　to　carry　Nina　any　longer；　but　she　took　his　hand；　and　they　hurried　as　best　they　could　toward　the　primeval　darkness　that　seemed　to　well　out　of　the　ground　and　drown　the　ranks　of　conifers　in　the　lower　depths　of　the　canyon。
　　He　hoped　they　could　find　a　road。　Paved　or　gravelled　or　dirt…it　didn't　matter。　Just　a　way　out；　any　sort　of　road　at　all；　as　long　as　it　led　away　from　the　fire　and　would　take　them　into　a　future　where　Nina　would　be　safe。
　　They　had　gone　no　more　than　two　hundred　yards　when　a　thunder　rose　behind　them；　and　when　he　turned；　fearful　of　another　attack；　Joe　saw　only　a　herd　of　deer　galloping　toward　them；　fleeing　the　flames。　Ten；　twenty；　thirty　deer；　graceful　and　swift；　parted　around　him　and　Nina　with　a　thudding　of　hooves；　ears　pricked　and　alert；　oil…black　eyes　as　shiny　as　mirrors；　spotted　flanks　quivering；　kicking　up　clouds　of　pale　dust；　whickering　and　snorting；　and　then　they　were　gone。
　　Heart　pounding；　caught　up　in　a　riot　of　emotions　that　he　could　not　easily　sort　out；　still　holding　the　girl's　hand；　Joe　started　down　the　trail　in　the　hoof　prints　of　the　deer。　He　took　half　a　dozen　steps　before　he　realized　there　was　no　pain　in　his　bitten　calf。　No　pain；　either；　in　his　hawk…pecked　hand　or　in　his　beak…torn　face。　He　was　no　longer　bleeding
　　Along　the　way　and　in　the　tumult　of　the　deers'　passing；　Nina　had　healed　him。
　　
　　　6
　　On　the　second　anniversary　of　the　crash　of　Nationwide　Flight　353；　Joe　Carpenter　sat　on　a　quiet　beach　in　Florida；　in　the　shade　of　a　palm　tree；　watching　the　sea。　Here；　the　tides　came　to　shore　more　gently　than　in　California；　licking　the　sand　with　a　tropical　languor；　and　the　ocean　seemed　not　at　all　like　a　machi