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The Stars My Destination ( Tiger! Tiger! ) :: Bester Alfred
Страница: 56 из 164Foyle swam close behind Jisbella, feeling herthrashing legs beat his head and shoulders.
They shot through the tunnel until their lungs burst and their blind eyes started. Then there was a roaring again and a surface, and they could breathe. The glassy tunnel sides were replaced by jagged rocks. Foyle caught Jisbella's leg and seized a stone projection at the side of the river.
«Got to climb out here,» he shouted.
«What?»
«Got to climb out. You hear that roaring up ahead? Cataracts. Rapids. Be torn to pieces. Out, Jiz.»
She was too weak to climb out of the water. He thrust her body up onto the rocks and followed. They lay on the dripping stones, too exhausted to speak. At last Foyle got wearily to his feet.
«Have to keep on,» he sail. «Follow the river. Ready?»
She could not answer; she could not protest. He pulled her up and they went stumbling through the darkness, trying to follow the bank of the torrent. The boulders they traversed were gigantic, standing like dolmens, heaped, jumbled, scattered into a labyrinth. They staggered and twisted through them and lost the river. They could hear it in the darkness; they could not get back to it. They could get nowhere.
«Lost . . .» Foyle grunted in disgust. «We're lost again. Really lost this time. What are we going to do?»
Jisbella began to cry. She made helpless yet furious sounds. Foyle lurched to a stop and sat down, drawing her down with him.
«Maybe you're right, girl,» he said wearily. «Maybe I am a damned fool. I got us trapped into this no-jaunte jam, and we're licked.»
She didn't answer.
«So much for brainwork. Hell of an education you gave me.» He hesitated. «You think we ought to try backtracking to the hospital?»
«We'll never make it.»
«Guess not. Was just practicing m'brain. Should we start a racket? Make a noise so they can track us by G-phone?»
«They'd never hear us . . . Never find us in time.»
«We could make enough noise. You could knock me around a little. Be a pleasure for both of us.»
«Shut up.»
«What a mess!» He sagged back, cushioning his head on a tuft of soft grass. «At least I had a chance aboard 'Nomad.' There was food and I could see where I was trying to go. I could…” He broke off and sat bolt upright. «Jiz!»
«Don't talk so much.»
He felt the ground under him and clawed up sods of earth and tufts of grass. He thrust them into her face.
«Smell this,» he laughed. «Taste it. It's grass, Jiz. Earth and grass. We must be out of Gouffre Martel.
They shot through the tunnel until their lungs burst and their blind eyes started. Then there was a roaring again and a surface, and they could breathe. The glassy tunnel sides were replaced by jagged rocks. Foyle caught Jisbella's leg and seized a stone projection at the side of the river.
«Got to climb out here,» he shouted.
«What?»
«Got to climb out. You hear that roaring up ahead? Cataracts. Rapids. Be torn to pieces. Out, Jiz.»
She was too weak to climb out of the water. He thrust her body up onto the rocks and followed. They lay on the dripping stones, too exhausted to speak. At last Foyle got wearily to his feet.
«Have to keep on,» he sail. «Follow the river. Ready?»
She could not answer; she could not protest. He pulled her up and they went stumbling through the darkness, trying to follow the bank of the torrent. The boulders they traversed were gigantic, standing like dolmens, heaped, jumbled, scattered into a labyrinth. They staggered and twisted through them and lost the river. They could hear it in the darkness; they could not get back to it. They could get nowhere.
«Lost . . .» Foyle grunted in disgust. «We're lost again. Really lost this time. What are we going to do?»
Jisbella began to cry. She made helpless yet furious sounds. Foyle lurched to a stop and sat down, drawing her down with him.
«Maybe you're right, girl,» he said wearily. «Maybe I am a damned fool. I got us trapped into this no-jaunte jam, and we're licked.»
She didn't answer.
«So much for brainwork. Hell of an education you gave me.» He hesitated. «You think we ought to try backtracking to the hospital?»
«We'll never make it.»
«Guess not. Was just practicing m'brain. Should we start a racket? Make a noise so they can track us by G-phone?»
«They'd never hear us . . . Never find us in time.»
«We could make enough noise. You could knock me around a little. Be a pleasure for both of us.»
«Shut up.»
«What a mess!» He sagged back, cushioning his head on a tuft of soft grass. «At least I had a chance aboard 'Nomad.' There was food and I could see where I was trying to go. I could…” He broke off and sat bolt upright. «Jiz!»
«Don't talk so much.»
He felt the ground under him and clawed up sods of earth and tufts of grass. He thrust them into her face.
«Smell this,» he laughed. «Taste it. It's grass, Jiz. Earth and grass. We must be out of Gouffre Martel.