The Dark of the Sun - Smith Wilbur (книги полные версии бесплатно без регистрации txt) 📗

he was under water. Consciousness receded and he felt himself going,

going.

His head bumped against something hard but he was too weak to reach out

his hand.

"Wake up, boss. You can have a sleep later." Ruffy's voice bellowed in

his ear. He opened his eyes and saw beside him the pile of the bridge.

"Come on. I can't carry you up here." Ruffy had worked round the side of

the pile, shielding them from arrows, but the current was strong here,

tugging at their bodies. Without the strength to prevent it Bruce's head

rolled sideways and his face flopped forward into the water.

"Come on, wake up." With a stinging slap Ruffy's open hand hit

Bruce across the cheek. The shock roused him, he coughed and a mixture

of water and vomit shot up his throat and out of his mouth and nose.

Then he blenched painfully and retched again.

"How's it feel now?" Ruffy demanded.

Bruce lifted a hand from the water and wiped his mouth.

He felt much better.

"Okay? Can you make it?" Bruce nodded.

"Let's go then." With Ruffy dragging and pushing him, he worked his way

up the pile. Water poured from his clothing as his body emerged, his

hair was plastered across his forehead and he could feel each breath

gurgle in his lungs.

"Listen boss. When we get to the top we'll be in the open again.

There'll be more arrows - not time to sit around and chat. We're going

over the rail fast and then run like hell, okay?" Bruce nodded again.

Above him were the floorboards of the bridge. With one hand he reached

up and caught an upright of the tie guard rail, and he hung there,-

without strength to pull himself the rest of the way.

"Hold it there," grunted Ruffy and Wriggled his shiny wet bulk up and

over.

The arrows started falling again; one pegged into the wood six inches

from Bruce's face and stood there quivering.

Slowly Bruce's grip relaxed. I can't hold on, he thought, I'm going.

Then Ruffy's hand closed on his wrist, he felt himself dragged up, his

legs dangled. He hung suspended by one arm and the water swirled

smoothly past twenty feet below.

Slowly he was drawn upwards, his chest scraped over the guard rail,

tearing his shirt, then he tumbled over it into an untidy heap on the

bridge.

Vaguely he heard the guns firing on the south bank, the flit and thump

of the arrows, and Ruffy's voice.

"Come on, boss. Get up." He felt himself being lifted and dragged along.

With his legs boneless soft under him, he staggered beside

Ruffy.

Then there were no more arrows; the timbers of the bridge became solid

earth under his feet. Voices and hands on him. He was being lifted, then

lowered face down on to the wooden floor of a truck. The rhythmic

pressure on his chest as someone started artificial respiration above

him, the warm gush of water up his throat, and

Shermaine's voice. He could not understand what she was saying, but just

the sound of it was enough to make him realize he was safe.

Darkly through the fog he became aware that her voice was the most

important sound in his life.

He vomited again.

Hesitantly at first, and then swiftly, Bruce came back from the

edge of oblivion.

"That's enough," he mumbled and rolled out from under Sergeant

Jacque who was administering the artificial respiration. The movement

started a fresh paroxysm of coughing and he felt Shermaine's hands on

his shoulders restraining him.

"Bruce, you must rest."

"No." He struggled into a sitting position. "We've got to get out into

the open," he gasped.

"No hurry, boss. We've left all the Balubes on the other bank.

There's a river between us."

"How do you know?" Bruce challenged him.

"Well-"

"You don't!" Bruce told him flatly. "There could easily be another few

hundred on this side." He coughed again painfully and then went on.

"We're leaving in five minutes, get them ready."

"Okay."

Ruffy turned to leave.

"Ruffy!"

"Boss?" He turned back expectantly.

"Thank you." Ruffy grinned self-consciously. "At's all right. I

needed a wash anyway."

"I'll buy you a drink when we get home." "I wont forget," Ruffy warned

him, and climbed down out of the truck.

Bruce heard him shouting to his boys.

"I thought I'd lost you." Shermaine's arm was still round his shoulders

and Bruce looked at her for the first time.

"My sweet girl, you won't get rid of me that easily," he assured her. He

was feeling much better now.

"Bruce, I want to - I can't explain-" Unable to find the words she

leaned forward instead and kissed him, full on the mouth.

When they drew apart, Sergeant Jacque and the two gendarmes with him

were grinning delightedly.

"There is nothing wrong with you now, Captain."

"No, there isn't," Bruce agreed. "Make your preparations for departure."

From the passenger seat of the Ford Bruce took one last look at the

bridge.

The repaired section hung like a broken drawbridge into the water.

Beyond it on the far bank were scattered a few dead Baluba, like

celluloid dolls in the sunlight. Far downstream the gasoline tanker had

been washed by the current against the beach. It lay on its side,

half-submerged in the shallows and the white Shell insignia showed

clearly.

And the river flowed on, green and inscrutable, with the jungle pressing

close along its banks.

"Let's get away from here," said Bruce.

Shermaine started the engine and the convoy of trucks followed them

along the track through the belt of thick river bush and into the open

forest again.

Bruce looked at his watch. The inside of the glass was dewed with

moisture and he lifted it to his ear.

"Damn thing has stopped. What's your time?"

"Twenty minutes to one."

"Half the day wasted," Bruce grumbled.

"Will we reach Msapa Junction before dark?"

"No, we won't. For two good reasons. Firstly, it's too far, and

secondly, we haven't enough gas."

"What are you going to do?" Her voice was unruffled, already she had

complete faith in him. I wonder how long it will last, he mused

cynically. At first you're a god. You have not a single human weakness.

They set a standard for You, and the standard is perfection. Then the

first time you fall short of it, their whole

world blows up.

"We'll think of something," he assured her.

"I'm sure you will," she agreed complacently and Bruce grinned.

The big joke, of course, was that when she said it he also believed it.

Damned if being in love doesn't make you feel one hell of a man.

He changed to English so as to exclude the two gendarmes in the back

seat from the conversation.

"You are the best thing that has happened to me in thirty years."

"Oh, Bruce." She turned her face towards him and the expression of

trusting love in it and the intensity of his own emotion struck Bruce

like a physical blow.

I will keep this thing alive, he vowed. I must nourish it with care and

protect it from the dangers of selfishness and familiarity.

"Oh, Bruce, I do love you so terribly much. This morning when -