JК
The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 52 из 164Through the bedlam in the caverns sounded the clatter ofsteps close at hand. Guards were running blindly through the Sanitation stalls. The infrared lights had not yet been repaired…
«They may not notice the window,» Jisbella hissed. «Be quiet.»
They crouched on the floor. Steps trampled through the pens in bewildering succession. Then they were gone.
«All clear, now,» Jisbella whispered. «But they'll have searchlights any minute. Come on, Gully. Out.»
«But the door to the clinic, Jiz. I thought…”
«There is no door. They use spiral stairs and they pull them up. They've thought of this escape too. We'll have to try the laundry lift. God knows what good it'll do us. Oh Gully, you fool! You utter fool!»
They climbed through the observation window back into the pens. They searched through the darkness for the lifts by which soiled uniforms were removed and fresh uniforms issued. And in the darkness the automatic hands again soaped, sprayed and disinfected them. They could find nothing.
The caterwauling of a siren suddenly echoed through the caverns, silencing all other sound. There came a hush as suffocating as the darkness.
«They're using the C-phone to track us, Gully.»
«The what?»
«Geophone. It can trace a whisper through half a mile of solid rock. That's why they've sirened for silence.»
«The laundry lift?»
«Can't find it.»
«Then come on.»
«Where?»
«We're running.»
«Where?»
«I don't know, but I'm not getting caught flat-footed. Come on. The exercise'll do you good.»
Again he thrust Jisbella before him and they ran, gasping and stumbling, through the blackness, down into the deepest reaches of South Quadrant. Jisbella fell twice, blundering against turns in the passages. Foyle took the lead and ran, holding the twenty-pound sledge in his hand, the handle extended before, him as an antenna. Then they crashed into a blank wall and realized they had reached the dead end of the corridor. They were boxed, trapped.
«What now?»
«Don't know. Looks like the dead end of my ideas, too. We can't go back for sure. I clobbered Dagenham in the offices. Hate that man. Looks like a poison label. You got a flash, girl?»
«Oh Gully . . . Gully . . .» Jisbella sobbed.
«Was counting on you for ideas. 'No more bombs,' you said. Wish I had one now. Could…Wait a minute.» He touched the oozing wall against which they were leaning. He felt the checkerboard indentations of mortar seams. «Bulletin from C. Foyle. This isn't a natural cave wall.
«They may not notice the window,» Jisbella hissed. «Be quiet.»
They crouched on the floor. Steps trampled through the pens in bewildering succession. Then they were gone.
«All clear, now,» Jisbella whispered. «But they'll have searchlights any minute. Come on, Gully. Out.»
«But the door to the clinic, Jiz. I thought…”
«There is no door. They use spiral stairs and they pull them up. They've thought of this escape too. We'll have to try the laundry lift. God knows what good it'll do us. Oh Gully, you fool! You utter fool!»
They climbed through the observation window back into the pens. They searched through the darkness for the lifts by which soiled uniforms were removed and fresh uniforms issued. And in the darkness the automatic hands again soaped, sprayed and disinfected them. They could find nothing.
The caterwauling of a siren suddenly echoed through the caverns, silencing all other sound. There came a hush as suffocating as the darkness.
«They're using the C-phone to track us, Gully.»
«The what?»
«Geophone. It can trace a whisper through half a mile of solid rock. That's why they've sirened for silence.»
«The laundry lift?»
«Can't find it.»
«Then come on.»
«Where?»
«We're running.»
«Where?»
«I don't know, but I'm not getting caught flat-footed. Come on. The exercise'll do you good.»
Again he thrust Jisbella before him and they ran, gasping and stumbling, through the blackness, down into the deepest reaches of South Quadrant. Jisbella fell twice, blundering against turns in the passages. Foyle took the lead and ran, holding the twenty-pound sledge in his hand, the handle extended before, him as an antenna. Then they crashed into a blank wall and realized they had reached the dead end of the corridor. They were boxed, trapped.
«What now?»
«Don't know. Looks like the dead end of my ideas, too. We can't go back for sure. I clobbered Dagenham in the offices. Hate that man. Looks like a poison label. You got a flash, girl?»
«Oh Gully . . . Gully . . .» Jisbella sobbed.
«Was counting on you for ideas. 'No more bombs,' you said. Wish I had one now. Could…Wait a minute.» He touched the oozing wall against which they were leaning. He felt the checkerboard indentations of mortar seams. «Bulletin from C. Foyle. This isn't a natural cave wall.