The Dark of the Sun - Smith Wilbur - Страница 37

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grief, warm rain in the darkness. And the darkness was complete. Once

Bruce touched the top of his nose with his open palm, but he could not

see his hand.

He used a staff to keep contact with the steel rail that ran beside him,

tapping along it like a blind man, and at each step the

gravel of the embankment crunched beneath his feet. The hand of the man

behind him was on his shoulder, and he could sense the presence of the

others that followed him like the body of a serpent, could hear the

crunch of their steps and the muted squeak and rattle of their

equipment. A man's voice was raised in protest and immediately quenched

by Ruffy's deep rumble.

They crossed the road and the gradient changed beneath Bruce's feet so

that he had to lean forward against it. They were starting up the Lufira

hills.

I will rest them at the top, he thought, and from there we will be able

to see the lights of the town.

The rain stopped abruptly, and the quietness after it was surprising.

Now he could distinctly hear the breathing of the man behind him above

the small sounds of their advance, and in the forest nearby a tree frog

clinked as though steel pellets were being dropped into a crystal glass.

It was a sound of great purity and beauty.

All Bruce's senses were enhanced to compensate for his lack of sight;

his hearing; his sense of smell, so that he could catch the over-sweet

perfume of a jungle-flower and the heaviness of decaying wet vegetation;

his sense of touch, so that he could feel the raindrops on his face and

the texture of his clothing against his body; then the other animal

sense of danger told him with sickening, stomach-tripping certainty that

there was something ahead of him in the darkness.

He stopped, and the man following him bumped into him throwing him off

balance. All along the line there was a ripple of confusion and then

silence. They all waited.

Bruce strained his hearing, half crouched with his rifle held ready.

There was something there, he could almost feel it.

Please God, let them not have a machine-gun set up here, he thought;

they could cut us into a shambles.

He turned cautiously and felt for the head of the man behind him, found

it and drew it towards him until his mouth was an inch from the ear.

"Lie down very quietly. Tell the one behind you that he may pass it

back." Bruce waited poised, listening and trying to see ahead into the

utter blackness. He felt a gentle tap on his ankle from the gendarme at

his feet. They were all down.

"All right, let's go take a look." Bruce detached one of the grenades

from his webbing belt. He drew the pin and dropped it into the breast

pocket of his jacket. Then feeling for the crossties of the rails with

each foot he started forward. Ten paces and he stopped again. Then he

heard it, the tiny click of two pebbles just ahead of him. His throat

closed so he could not breathe and his stomach was very heavy.

I'm right on top of them. My God, if they open up now, inch by inch he

drew back the hand that held the grenade.

I'll have to lob short and get down fast. Five-second fuse too long,

they'll hear it and start shooting.

His hand was right back, he bent his legs and sank slowly on to his

knees.

Here we go, he thought, and at that instant sheet lightning fluttered

across the sky and Bruce could see. The hills were outlined black below

the pale grey belly of the clouds, and the steel rails

glinted in the sudden light.

The forest was dark and high at each hand, and - a leopard, a big golden

and black leopard, stood facing Bruce. In that brief second they stared

at each other and then the night closed down again.

The leopard coughed explosively in the darkness, and Bruce tried

desperately to bring his rifle up, but it was in his left hand and his

other arm was held back ready to throw.

This time for sure, he thought, this time they lower the boom on you.

It was with a feeling of disbelief that he heard the leopard crash

sideways into the undergrowth, and the scrambling rush of its run

dwindle into the bush.

He subsided on to his backside, with the primed grenade in his hand, the

hysterical laughter of relief coming up into his throat.

"You okay, boss?" Ruffy's voice lifted anxiously.

"It was a leopard," answered Bruce, and was surprised at the squeakiness

of his own voice.

There was a buzz of voices from the gendarmes and a rattle and clatter

as they started to stand up. Someone laughed.

"That's enough noise," snapped Bruce and climbed to his feet; he found

the pin in his pocket and fitted it back into the grenade. He groped his

way back, picked up the staff from where he had dropped it, and took his

position at the head of the column again.

"Let's go," he said.

His mouth was dry, his breathing too quick and he could feel the heat

beneath the skin of his cheeks from the shock of the leopard.

I truly squirted myself full of adrenalin that time, Bruce grinned

precariously in the dark, I'm as windy as hell. And before tonight is

over I shall find fear again.

They moved on up the incline of the hills, a serpent of twenty-six men,

and the tension was in all of them. Bruce could hear it in the footsteps

behind him, feel it in the grip of the hand upon his shoulder and catch

it in the occasional whiffs of body smell that came forward to him, the

smell of nervous sweat like acid on metal.

Ahead of them the clouds that had crouched low upon the hills lifted

slowly, and Bruce could see the silhouette of the crests. It was no

longer utterly dark for there was a glow on the belly of the clouds now.

A faint orange glow of reflected light that grew in

strength, then faded and grew again. It puzzled Bruce for a while, and

thinking about it gave his nerves a chance to settle. He plodded

steadily on watching the fluctuations of the light. The ground tilted

more sharply upwards beneath his feet and he leaned forward against it,

slogging up the last half mile to the pass between the peaks, and at

last came out on the top.

"Good God, Bruce spoke aloud, for from here he could see the reason for

that glow on the clouds. They were burning Port Reprieve.

The flames were well established in the buildings along the wharf, and

as Bruce watched one of the roofs collapsed slowly in upon itself in a

storm of sparks leaving the walls naked and erect, the wooden sills of

the windows burning fiercely. The railway buildings were also on fire,

and there was fire in the residential area beyond the Union

Mini&e offices and the hotel. Quickly Bruce looked towards St.

Augustine's. It was dark, no flames there, no light even, and he felt a

small lift of relief.

"Perhaps they have overlooked it, perhaps they're too busy looting," and

as he looked back at Port Reprieve, his mouth hardened.

"The senseless wanton bastards!" His anger started as he watched the

meaningless destruction of the town.

"What can they possibly hope to gain by this?" There were new fires

nearer the hotel. Bruce turned to the man behind him.

"We will rest here, but there will be no smoking and no talking."

He heard the order passed back along the line and the careful sounds of

equipment being lowered and men settling gratefully down upon the gravel

embankment. Bruce unslung the case that contained his binoculars. He

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