p&c.thunderhead-第94章

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happen…what　she　was　being　forced　to　do。　
　She　forced　her　thoughts　back　toward　the　limitless　wonders　that　awaited　in　the　secret　city。　She　reminded　herself　once　again　there　was　no　other　way。　Even　if　she　managed　to　beat　Nora's　accusations　somehow；　they　would　ruin　her　forever。　And　in　his　heart；　her　father　would　know　。　。　。　
　It　came　at　last：　the　crackle　of　a　twig。　The　soft　chuff　of　a　foot；　placed　carefully　in　wet　sand。　And　then　another；　at　least；　she　thought　she　heard　another；　against　the　distant　call　of　the　river　and　the　soft　patter　of　rain。　
　Someone　was　sneaking　up　to　the　tent；　someone　exercising　exceptional　care。　
　Sloane　hesitated　momentarily；　she　didn't　know　Nora　had　such　capacity　for　stealth。　But　nobody　else；　she　knew；　would　be　approaching　the　tent　so　cautiously。　
　She　took　a　breath；　opening　her　mouth　as　if　to　speak。　For　a　moment；　she　considered　calling　out　to　Nora：　to　give　her　one　more　chance；　to　forget　Aragon；　the　weather　report；　everything。　But　then　she　remembered　the　look　on　Nora's　face…the　word　murderer；　uttered　between　clenched　teeth…and　she　remained　silent。　
　With　a　slight　pressure　of　her　thumbs　and　middle　fingers；　she　raised　the　muzzle　of　the　。38；　relaxing　her　hands　to　absorb　the　recoil。　She　was　a　decent　shot；　at　this　range；　there　was　no　chance　of　missing。　It　would　be　quick；　and　probably　painless。　Within　two　minutes；　both　Nora　and　Smithback　would　be　in　the　river；　moving　inexorably　toward　the　narrow　slot　at　its　far　end。　If　there　was　ever　any　question；　she　could　always　tell　the　others　she　had　been　shooting　at　a　snake。　
　She　waited；　barrel　leveled　steadily。　The　steps　were　so　quiet；　and　spaced　so　far　apart；　Sloane　could　not　tell　if　they　were　approaching　or　receding。　And　then　at　last　a　shadow　interposed　itself　between　her　and　the　tent。　
　Sloane　breathed　out　slowly　through　her　nostrils。　The　shadow　was　too　tall　to　be　bandy…legged　Swire；　and　too　short　to　be　Aaron　or　Bonarotti。　It　could　only　be　Nora。　The　shadow　deepened　slightly　as　it　glided　around　the　side　of　the　tent；　hovering　outside　the　door。　
　Carefully；　Sloane　aimed　the　gun；　centering　on　the　shadow。　This　was　it；　then。　She　suspended　her　breathing；　timed　the　shot　to　the　interval　between　heartbeats；　and　squeezed　the　trigger。　
　The　short…barreled　weapon　jerked　back　violently　in　her　hands　as　the　shot　reverberated　down　the　canyon。　There　was　a　gasp；　the　sound　of　spasmodic　kicking；　a　brief；　retreating　scrabble。　When　her　eyes　cleared；　the　silhouette　had　disappeared　from　the　dim　light　of　the　tent　and　all　was　silent。　
　She　crept　out　of　the　chamisa　and　rose　to　her　feet。　It　was　done。　She　realized　she　was　shaking　violently　but　made　no　attempt　to　control　it。　Snapping　on　her　light；　keeping　the　gun　drawn；　she　came　forward。　She　hesitated　at　the　side　of　the　tent；　momentarily　unwilling　to　see　the　destruction　her　gun　had　wrought。　Then；　with　a　deep　breath；　she　stepped　forward。　
　Instead　of　Nora's　body　lying　before　the　tent；　broken　and　bleeding；　there　was　nothing。　
　Sloane's　hands　went　slack　in　consternation；　and　she　fought　to　maintain　her　grip　on　the　gun。　She　looked　down　at　the　sand　before　her；　horrified。　How　could　she　possibly　have　missed？　It　was　practically　a　point…blank　shot。　Could　the　gun　have　misfired？　She　swivelled　her　light　around；　looking　for　something；　anything；　that　could　explain。　
　And　then；　in　the　sand　at　the　far　edge　of　the　tent；　the　cone　of　light　caught　something。　It　was　a　thick　gout　of　blood。　And；　beside　it；　a　partial　bloody　footprint　in　the　damp　earth。　
　Sloane　peered　more　closely。　The　print　did　not　belong　to　Nora…or；　it　seemed；　to　any　other　human　being。　It　looked；　in　fact；　like　a　clawed　forepaw。　
　She　drew　back　and　glanced　around；　swinging　her　flashlight　as　she　did　so。　There；　caught　in　the　beam　behind　her；　was　Nora；　sprinting　across　the　valley　toward　her　and　the　camp。　As　the　moon　peered　briefly　through　the　rainclouds；　Nora　caught　sight　of　Sloane；　and　stopped　short；　then　veered　away　quickly；　angling　now　toward　the　rope　ladder　that　led　up　to　the　city。　The　shot　had　flushed　her　from　the　rock　pile；　but　in　the　worst　possible　way。　
　Sloane　raised　the　gun　in　her　direction；　then　lowered　it　again。　Nora　had　not　approached　the　tent；　after　all。　So　what　had　she　shot？　
　As　she　slowly　circled　the　camp　with　her　light；　something　resolved　itself　against　the　farthest　row　of　tents。　Sloane　staggered　in　disbelief。　
　The　cold　light　had　fallen　across　a　terrifying　apparition。　It　stood；　humped　and　ragged；　staring　silently　back　at　her。　Red　eyes　bored　like　dots　of　fire　through　holes　cut　into　a　buckskin　mask。　Wild　painted　designs　of　white　along　the　legs　and　arms　were　spattered　crimson　with　blood。　Its　pelt　steamed　in　the　humid　air。　
　Instinctively；　Sloane　took　a　step　backward；　panic　and　disbelief　struggling　within　her。　This　was　what　she　had　shot。　She　could　see　the　great　wound　in　its　midriff；　the　blood　shining　black　in　the　moonlight。　And　yet　it　remained　standing。　More　than　that：　as　its　chest　heaved　slowly；　she　could　see　that　it　was　very　much　alive。　
　Though　the　revelation　took　only　a　split　second；　to　Sloane　it　seemed　as　if　time　had　e　to　a　standstill。　She　could　hear　her　heart　beating　a　frantic　cadence　in　her　ribs。　
　And　then；　with　terrifying；　deliberate　malevolence；　the　creature　took　a　step　toward　her。　
　Instantly；　panic　took　over。　Dropping　the　flashlight；　Sloane　wheeled　and　ran。　For　a　moment；　the　kiva；　the　flood；　everything　was　forgotten　in　her　desire　to　escape　this　monstrous　vision。　This　was　the　thing　that　massacred　the　horses；　desecrated　Holroyd's　body　。　。　。　then　she　thought　of　Swire　and　Bonarotti；　and　suddenly　her　legs　were　churning　even　faster；　the　night　air　tearing　in　and　out　of　her　lungs。　
　Now　she　could　barely　make　out　Nora；　climbing　toward　the　city。　Desperately；　Sloane　veered　to　follow；　keeping　her　eyes　locked　on　the　ladder；　running　with　reckless　abandon；　trying　with　all　the　power　of　her　will　to　ignore　the　awful；　low；　flapping　sounds　of　the　pelted　thing　as　it　came　racing　up　the　darkness　behind　her。　
　
　
65
　
　NORA　HEAVED　HERSELF　OVER　THE　RIM；　scrambled　to　her　feet；　and　sprinted　away　from　the　edge　of　the　cliff。　Vaulting　over　the　retaining　wall；　she　dashed　across　the　central　plaza　into　the　deeper　darkness　beneath　the　shadow　of　the　roomblocks。　
　She　came　to　a　stop；　leaning　against　a　wall；　sobbing；　sides　heaving。　As　if　from　a　great　distance；　she　heard　the　steady　beating　of　rain。　She　paid　it　no　heed。　A　single；　fleeting　image　was　burned　into　her　mind：　Sloane；　standing　outside　the　door　to　Smithback's　tent　after　the　sound　of　that　terrible　shot。　She　had　found　Bill；　and　killed　him。　For　a　moment；　the　pain　and　despair　were　so　overwhelming　that　Nora　considered　simply　walking　out　into　the　plaza　and　letting　Sloane　gun　her　down。　
　A　peal　of　thunder　boomed；　echoing　again　and　again　beneath　the　vast　dome。　Just　being　in　the　city　made　her　feel　sick。　Her　gaze　traveled　first　to　the　far　wall　of　the　plaza；　then　back　toward　the　roomblocks　and　the　granaries。　There；　black　upon　black；　yawned　the　maw　of　the　Crawlspace。　She　flitted　toward　the　rear　of　the　plaza；　careful　not　to　raise　any　dust。　Perhaps　she　could　lure　Sloane　inside　the　Crawlspace；　then　ambush　her；　take　the　gun　。　。　。　
　She　pulled　up　short；　breathing　hard。　This　was　stupid；　she　was　panicking；　making　bad　decisions。　Not　only　was　the　Crawlspace　a　potentially　deadly　bottleneck；　it　was　loaded　with　fungal　dust。　
　There　was　a　fresh　slash　of　lightning；　and　she　turned　back　to　see　Sloane　scramble　over　the　top　of　the　rope　ladder；　pistol　in　hand。　
　〃Nora！〃　she　heard　Sloane　call　out　wildly。　〃Nora；　for　God's　sake；　wait！〃　
　Nora　wheeled；　diving　away　from　the　plaza；　back　toward　the　curved　rear　wall　of　the　city。　
　Another　tongue　of　lightning　ripped　the　distant　landscape；　briefly　illuminating　the　ancient　city　in　indigo　chiaroscuro。　A　second　later；　there　was　a　crack　of　thunder；　followed　almost　immediately　by　a　second　sound；　shockingly　loud　in　the　close　confines：　the　sound　of　gunfire。　
　Keeping　to　the　darkest　shadows；　moving　as　swiftly　as　she　dared；　Nora　crept　along　the　stone　wall　toward　the　old　midden　heap。　Careful　not　to　trip　over　Black's　tarps；　she　moved　along　the　edge　of　the　city；　approaching　the　dark　bulk　of　the　first　tower。　
　The　sound　of　running　footsteps　rang　out　against　stone。　Nora　shrank　quickly　behind　the　pole　l