rstacy.doomsdaywarrior-第25节

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it　off；　shutting　his　mind　like　a　steel　spring　on　it　…　it　passed。
　Rona　broke　stride　momentarily；　then　she　too　threw　it　off。　One　by　one　they　were　tested　and　found　not　wanting。　Thanks　to　Detroit's　warning。
　But　with　Scheransky　it　was　a　different　story。　Scheransky　had　trouble　remembering　his　mantra；　so　he　counted。　One…two…three。　It　worked　well　for　a　time；　his　mind　didn't　wander；　he　was　keeping　up　with　the　others。　Perhaps　his　lack　of　deep　meditative　training；　he　had　trouble　with　such　things　…　didn't　matter。　He　would　be　all　right。　But　that　wasn't　the　case。
　They　had　gone　perhaps　another　three　hundred　yards　in　the　darkness；　when　Scheransky　suddenly　heard　his　voice；　his　counting　of　numbers　in　Russian；　suddenly　change　to　the　voice　of　another　man。　It　was　the　voice　of　a　guard；　a　KGB　guard。　He　was　a　child　standing　in　the　snow　of　the　Gulag　Reception　Station。　He　was　next　to　his　father；　a　proud　prison　official。　And　the　counting　was　not　of　footsteps　in　the　dark　cavern；　but　the　counting　of　half…naked　prisoners　walking　by　him。
　Each　time　a　prisoner　walked　by；　his　father　made　a　mark　in　a　little　notebook。　It　was　so　long　ago。　It　was　the　day　that　Scheransky　most　wanted　to　forget。　The　day　that　haunted　him。
　The　Russian's　most　dreaded　memory　was　buried　deep　in　his　unconscious　childhood　memories。　But　the　deeper　the　fear；　the　more　hidden　it　was；　the　easier　it　was　for　the　Whisperers　to　use　it。。。　and　the　more　horrible　and　real　it　seemed　when　it　came　to　mind。
　There　he　was　in　the　cold　winter　darkness　of　the　gulag。　And　there　was　a　purge　going　on；　the　sixth　in　a　year。　In　the　Kremlin；　the　Malenkov　forces　were　out；　and　the　Dzernoviks'　faction　was　in；　meaning　new　prisoners　were　arriving　by　the　trainload　…　prisoners　who　had　endured　month　after　month　of　torture　already　at　the　hands　of　the　KGB。
　And　as　the　faceless　political　prisoners　walked　by；　one　was　not　anonymous。　One；　just　one；　was　not　a　thing　to　be　reviled。
　〃Momma。〃　Scheransky　gasped。　〃What　are　you　…〃
　The　woman；　number　412；　wore　a　torn　and　ragged　filthy　striped　robe。　She　had　bare　feet；　blood　in　the　cracks　of　her　frozen　toes；　staining　the　snow　beneath　her。　She　stopped；　looked　glazed　at　him；　looking　as　if　he　were　a　rock　or　building。
　〃Momma；　it's　me。〃　He　turned　to　his　father；　pulled　on　his　arm；　〃Poppa；　it's　Momma；　it's　her　…　why　is　she　here　with　the　guilty？　Why　is　she　dressed　like　this；　why　is　she　with　the　prisoners？〃
　His　father's　face　was　ashen；　his　swollen　chest　suddenly　deflated。　His　black　beady　eyes　grew　wide　with　horror。　It　was　her。　〃I　cannot　do　anything；〃　he　whispered　close　to　the　boy's　ear；　and　he　dragged　little　Totu　Scheransky　away。　The　boy　Scheransky　was　screaming；　〃Momma；　Momma。〃
　〃Shut　up；　stupid；〃　his　father　insisted；　〃she　is　not　your　mother　…　not　anymore。　She　is　a　traitor；　I　don't　know　what　she　did；　but　she　did　it。　And　we　don't　know　her。。。〃
　〃But　Momma　…〃
　His　father　slapped　him。　He　fell　face　first　in　the　snow　and　he　heard　the　crunch　crunch　crunch　of　the　naked　feet　of　the　prisoners　walking　listlessly　across　the　snow　toward　the　unheated　confinement　building。
　Scheransky；　though　lost　in　the　illusion；　continued　walking　with　his　patriots　in　the　cavern。　He　was　saying；　〃No；　Poppa；　no；　it　is　Momma。。。　it　is。。。　it　is。。。〃　In　his　ears　rang　the　whistle　of　the　death　train　as　it　slowly　pulled　out。　The　crunch　crunch　of　the　Freefighters'　boots　was；　in　his　mind；　the　crunch　crunch　of　the　political　prisoners'　bare　feet　toward　the　death　house。
　But　that　was　not　the　worst　…　that　was　a　past　reality。　A　long…ago　memory　unearthed　by　the　powers　of　the　unseen　enemy　in　the　cavern。　Now　came　the　dreaded　fantasy。
　Suddenly　Scheransky　was　stopped　dead　in　his　tracks。　And　dimly　in　the　cavern's　deep　recesses　he　heard　his　mother's　voice；　all　cracked　and　trembling　horribly。　〃Son；　son；〃　she　pleaded。　〃My　little　Totu；　why　did　you　let　them　take　me　away？　Why　did　you　deny　me；　your　mother？〃
　〃I　didn't；　Mother。　I…I…I'm　sorry；〃　Scheransky　stuttered　out。　〃I　…〃
　Then　the　words　choked　off　in　his　throat；　for　out　of　the　darkness　stepped　the　decayed；　twisted　dry　corpse　of　his　mother；　still　wearing　the　tattered　moldy　robe　with　the　black　stripes　of　a　prisoner　on　it。　She　lifted　her　dried　fungus…covered　hand　in　the　half…light　and　shook　her　finger　at　him。　〃Bad　boy；　you're　a　very　bad　boy。〃
　〃No；〃　he　aspirated；　his　breath　frozen；　his　chest　hard　and　tight。　〃I　…〃
　〃You　let　them　kill　me。　You　did。　You　denied　me　…　and　now　…〃　the　fungus…caked　dissolving　corpse's　dry　mouth　cracked　a　toothy　smile　…　〃now；　Son；　I've　e　to　get　you。。。
　〃Join。。。　me。。。　in。。。　cemetery。　Here；　e。。。　kiss　your　mother。。。〃　The　corpse　lurched　forward；　smacking　its　dead　brown　lips　over　teeth　that　fell　out　as　she　moved。
　〃No。。。　please。。。　don't　e　any　closer；〃　Scheransky　screamed；　but　he　was　unable　to　back　off。　The　corpse　kept　ing　closer。　〃Oh　God　Jesus；〃　Scheransky　cried；　〃Keep　her　away　…　keep　it　away　from　me。〃
　Scheransky　brought　his　hands　up　to　his　face　but　not　in　time。　For　the　staggering　mother…corpse　leapt　at　him　and　held　him　in　a　bony…hard　death　grip。　She　started　biting　his　face　with　her　decayed　teeth；　which　shattered　and　broke　into　sharp　fragments　as　they　stuck　into　his　skin。　〃No　…〃　he　screamed；　〃nooooooooooo。〃
　〃What's　the　matter　with　Scheransky？〃　Rock　yelled　as　he　ran　back　to　the　Russian。　Scheransky　was　screaming　and　tearing　at　the　air　as　if　he　was　being　attacked。　Rock　and　Detroit；　who　reached　their　panion　at　the　same　time；　grabbed　his　arms。　Rockson　shouted；　shook　the　Russian　defector。　〃Scheransky；　it's　not　real；　not　real。　Whatever　is　happening　is　an　illusion。〃
　Slowly　the　screams　died　down；　the　flailing　and　crying　died　down。　Finally　Scheransky　just　sat　there　on　the　cold　cavern　floor；　on　his　haunches；　sobbing　softly；　〃Mother。。。　Mother。　God；　I　…〃
　Rockson　gently　lifted　his　friend　to　his　feet。　〃It's　all　over　now。。。　The　nightmare　is　over。　We　have　to　go；　e　on；　e　on。。。　left。。。　right。。。　left。。；　That's　it。〃
　There　was　no　more　mental　attack。　And　there　came　a　different　voice；　a　voice　so　soft　you　could　sense　it　rather　than　hear　it。　〃We　are　sorry；〃　said　the　whisper；　〃we　thought　you　were　more。。。　of　the　bad　ones。　The　ones　we　kill。　But　your　hearts　are　good。　We　are　sorry。。。　sorry。。。　sorry。。。〃
　And　there　was　silence。　They　were　left　…　except　for　one　more　sentence　from　the　darkness　that　warned：
　〃Beware　of　the　sky。。。　sky。。。　sky。。。〃
　After　assessing　the　damage　…　no　one　was　seriously　hurt；　either　mentally　or　physically；　though　they　were　still　reeling　from　what　had　happened；　Rockson　urged　them　onward。
　
　
　CHAPTER　19
　
　At　last　they　entered　a　snaking；　twisting　portion　of　the　cavern　with　beautiful　crystalline　stalactites　dangling　down　at　them；　and　the　hum　in　the　air；　that　hum　that　was　the　power　of　the　whisperers；　ceased。　And　no　one　felt　those　icy　fingers　reaching　into　their　minds　anymore　…　they　had　made　it。
　They　spent　a　dreary　hour　shivering　and　walking　in　what　they　hoped　was　the　right　direction；　toward　a　spiral…shaped　immense　stalactite　hanging　from　the　murky　darkness　above。　The　pass　said　it　was　dead　south。　Rock　hoped　it　was　right。　They　had　e　two　thirds　of　the　way　now。
　There　was　the　faintest　squeak　of　leather　wings　against　cold　air。　And　suddenly　there　was　not　illusion　…　but　swift　real　death。　The　Grim　Reaper　…　in　the　form　of　a　giant　swooping　bat　…　came　at　them　screeching；　and　its　clawed　feet　squeezed　about　Smokestone　before　anyone　reacted。　He　was　lifted　into　the　darkness。　〃Shoot；　shoot；〃　he　yelled。　〃Never　mind　if　you　hit　me。〃
　Rockson　understood。　The　man　was　in　pain；　in　the　grip　of　a　prehistoric　creature　of　darkness。　And　he　reacted。　Rock　sprayed　the　air　with　explosive　bullets　in　the　direction　of　the　voice。　There　was　a　shriek；　a　nonhuman　shriek。　He　stopped　firing。　And　waited。　There　was　a　tremendous　thud　a　moment　later；　about　a　hundred　yards　to　their　east。
　No　one　had　to　tell　the　rest　to　follow　Rockson　through　the　Stygian　darkness；　playing　their　bright　flashbeams　about　to　find　their　lost　Indian　panion。
　They　found　Smokestone　lying　crumpled　on　the　hard　rocks。　He　had　blood　seeping　out　of　two　huge　wounds；　one　on　either　side　of　his　ribcage。　Chen　immediately　went　down　on　his　knees　and　pulled　back　the　torn　material　of　the　chiefs　garments。　He　turned　his　face　up　to　Rockson　and　slowly　shook　his　head。　No。　He　was　not　going　to　make　it。
　There　were　no　bullet　holes　on　the　chief；　Rock　was　thankful　for　that。　The　major　damage　was　from　the　creature　itself；　though　it　was　obvious　that　Smokestone's　leg　bones　were　broken　too。
　The　Indian　chief　was　beckoning　with　his　one　good　hand　for　Rock　to　e　closer；　his　lips　moved。
　Rock　put　his　ear　right　next　to　the　bleeding　lips　of　his　panion　and　listened。　The　chief　whispered；　〃Please。。。　cut　out　my　eyes；　after…after　I　die。。。　bury　them　on　the　surface　in　the　light。。。　of　the　sun。。。〃
　The　chief　looked　pleadingly　into　Rock's　eyes。　Asking　for　understanding。　Rockson　understood。　It　was　the　Indian　way。　To　have　your　eyes　buried　in　the　darkness　of　night　would　condemn　your　soul　to　wander　in　the　afterlife；　homeless　and　tortured。　Rockson　said；　〃I　will　do　it。〃　The　Chief　half…smiled；　then　exhaled　but　did　not　inhale　again。
　Rockson　told　the　others　to　move　back；　and　then　he　did　the　work　with　the　knife；　putting　Smokestone's　eyes　in　his　belt…pouch　for　transport；　eventually；　to　the　surface。
　Chen　had　his　explosive　star…dart　out　and