pdouglas.thecodex-第65节

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colony　along　the　animal　trails。　He　squatted　and　peered　into　the　green　darkness。　He　sampled　the　air　with　his　nose。　He　examined　the　ground。　Which　trail　had　they　taken？　There；　three　feet　in；　was　a　tiny　crushed　mushroom；　no　bigger　than　a　dime；　and　a　scraped　leaf。　They　had　gone　to　earth　in　this　mass　of　vegetation；　waiting　for　nightfall。　Without　a　doubt；　Hauser　thought；　the　Indian　had　set　up　his　ambush　in　here。　It　was　a　perfect　place。　He　stood　back　up　and　examined　the　layers　of　rainforest。　Yes；　the　Indian　would　be　hiding　somewhere　on　a　branch　above　this　warren　of　trails；　poison　dart　at　the　ready；　waiting　for　him　to　crawl　past　below。
　What　he　had　to　do　was　to　ambush　the　ambusher。
　Hauser　thought　for　a　moment。　The　Indian　was　smart。　He　would　already　have　anticipated　this。　He　would　know　that　Hauser　would　be　expecting　an　ambush　on　this　trail。　Therefore；　the　Indian　was　not　waiting　in　ambush　on　this　trail。　No。　Rather；　he　expected　Hauser　to　circle　in　and　e　around　from　the　other　side。　Therefore；　the　Indian　was　waiting　on　the　other　side　of　the　gigantic　mass　of　growth　to　ambush　Hauser。
　Hauser　slowly　began　circling　the　edge　of　the　creeper　colony；　moving　as　silently　and　smoothly　as　an　Indian　himself。　If　his　assumptions　were　correct；　the　Indian　would　be　found　on　the　far　side；　probably　up　high；　waiting　for　him　to　pass　below。　He　would　finish　the　Indian　first…who　was　by　far　the　greater　danger…and　then　he　would　flush　out　the　others　and　drive　them　toward　the　bridge；　where　they　would　be　easily　trapped　and　killed。
　Hauser　circled　at　a　distance；　stopping　every　few　moments　to　scan　the　middle　story　of　the　jungle。　If　the　Indian　had　done　as　he　anticipated；　he　would　be　somewhere　to　his　right。　He　moved　with　great　caution。　It　took　time；　but　time　at　least　was　on　his　side。　He　had　at　least　seven　hours　until　dark。
　He　moved　forward；　scanned　again。　There　was　something　in　a　tree。　He　paused；　moved　a　little；　looked　again。　Just　the　corner　of　the　Indian's　red　shirt　was　visible；　on　a　limb　about　fifty　yards　to　his　right；　and　there…he　could　just　see　it…was　the　tip　of　a　little　reed　blowgun　aiming　downward；　waiting　to　nail　Hauser　as　he　came　through。
　Hauser　moved　sideways　until　he　had　more　of　the　Indian's　shirt　in　sight　to　make　a　target。　He　raised　his　rifle；　took　careful　aim；　and　fired　a　single　round。
　Nothing。　And　yet　he　knew　he　had　hit　it。　A　sudden　panic　seized　him：　It　was　another　trap。　He　flung　himself　sideways　at　the　very　moment　the　Indian　came　dropping　down　on　him　like　a　cat；　sharpened　stick　in　hand。　Using　a　jujitsu　move；　Hauser　threw　himself　forward　and　to　the　side；　turning　the　Indian's　own　momentum　against　him；　neatly　throwing　him　off…and　then　he　was　up　and　placing　an　arc　of　automatic…weapon　fire　across　where　the　Indian　had　been。
　The　Indian　was　gone；　vanished。
　He　reconnoitered。　The　Indian　had　still　been　one　step　ahead　of　him。　He　glanced　up　and　saw　the　tree　with　the　little　bit　of　red　cloth；　the　tip　of　the　blowgun　dart；　all　still　in　place　exactly　where　the　Indian　had　put　them。　Hauser　swallowed。　Now　was　not　the　time　for　fear　or　anger。　He　had　a　job　to　do。　He　would　no　longer　play　the　Indian's　cat…and…mouse　game；　which　Hauser　now　suspected　he　would　lose。　The　time　had　e　to　flush　out　the　Broadbents　with　brute　force。
　He　turned　and　walked　along　the　edge　of　the　creeper　colony；　planted　his　feet；　and　took　aim　with　the　Steyr　AUG。　First　one　burst；　then　a　second；　and　then　he　walked　on；　pouring　fire　into　the　thick　vegetation。　It　had　exactly　the　effect　he　anticipated：　It　flushed　out　the　Broadbents。　He　could　hear　their　panicked　flight；　noisy；　like　partridges。　Now　he　knew　where　they　were。　He　sprinted　along　the　mass　of　growth　to　cut　them　off　as　they　emerged　and　herd　them　toward　the　bridge。
　There　was　a　sudden　sound　behind　him；　and　he　spun　toward　the　greater　danger；　squeezing　the　trigger　and　pouring　firepower　into　the　dense　cover　where　the　sound　had　e　from。　Leaves；　vines；　arid　twigs　jittered　off　the　branches　and　flew　in　all　directions；　and　he　could　hear　the　snick　and　thok　of　bullets　striking　wood　everywhere。　He　saw　some　movement　and　raked　the　vegetation　with　fire　again…and　then　he　heard　a　squeal　and　some　thrashing。
　Coatimundi；　damn　it！　He　had　shot　a　coatimundi！
　He　turned　now；　focusing　his　attention　ahead；　lowered　his　gun；　and　fired　in　the　direction　of　the　fleeing　Broadbents。　He　heard　the　coati　squealing　in　pain　behind　him；　the　crackling　of　twigs；　and　then　he　realized；　just　in　time；　that　this　was　no　wounded　coati…it　was　the　Indian　again。
　He　dropped；　rolled；　fired…not　to　kill；　for　the　Indian　had　vanished　into　the　vines；　but　to　drive　the　Indian　to　his　right；　toward　the　open　area　in　front　of　the　bridge。　He　would　drive　him　in　the　same　direction　as　the　Broadbents。　He　now　had　the　Indian　on　the　run；　herding　him　together　with　the　others。　The　trick　was　to　keep　them　moving；　firing　steadily；　preventing　them　from　peeling　off　and　ing　back　around　behind　him。　He　ran；　crouching　and　firing　short　bursts；　left　and　right；　cutting　off　any　possibility　of　escape　back　into　the　ruined　city。　By　sweeping　in　from　their　left　he　was　driving　them　ever　closer　to　the　chasm；　crowding　them；　flushing　them　toward　open　ground。　His　clip　empty；　he　paused　to　slam　another　in。　As　he　ran；　he　heard；　through　the　foliage　ahead；　the　crash　of　the　Broadbents　in　their　flight　in　exactly　the　direction　he　hoped　they　would　go。
　He　had　them　now。
　
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　Tom　was　already　halfway　back　across　the　plateau　when　he　heard　the　staccato　fire　from　Hauser's　gun。　He　instinctively　ran　toward　the　sound；　fearful　of　what　it　might　mean；　knocking　aside　ferns　and　vines；　jumping　fallen　logs；　scrambling　over　wrecked　walls。　He　heard　the　second　and　third　bursts　of　gunfire；　closer　and　more　to　his　right。　He　veered　toward　it；　hoping　in　some　way　to　defend　his　brothers　and　father。　He　had　a　machete；　he'd　killed　a　jaguar　and　an　anaconda　with　it…why　not　Hauser？
　Unexpectedly　he　burst　out　of　the　foliage　and　into　sunlight；　fifty　yards　away　lay　the　edge　of　the　precipice；　a　sheer　drop　of　more　than　a　mile　into　a　dark　coil　of　mists　and　shadow。　He　was　now　at　the　edge　of　the　great　chasm。　He　looked　to　the　right　and　saw　the　graceful　catenary　of　the　suspension　bridge　dangling　over　the　canyon；　swaying　gently　in　the　updrafts。
　He　heard　more　gunfire　behind　him　and　glimpsed　movement。　Vernon　and　Philip　appeared　out　of　the　trees　beyond　the　bridge；　supporting　their　father；　running　as　fast　as　they　could。　Borabay　appeared　a　moment　later　farther　back；　catching　up　to　them。　A　raking　fire　came　past　them；　snipping　off　the　heads　of　the　ferns　behind　them；　and　too　late　Tom　realized　that　he；　too；　was　trapped。　Tom　ran　toward　them　as　another　staccato　peal　of　gunfire　came　out　of　the　trees。　Tom　could　now　see　that　Hauser　was　several　hundred　yards　behind；　firing　to　their　left　and　driving　them　toward　the　edge　of　the　chasm　and　the　bridge。　Tom　ran　toward　the　bridgehead　and　reached　it　at　the　same　time　as　the　others。　They　paused；　crouching。　Tom　could　see　that　the　soldiers　on　the　other　side；　alerted　by　the　gunfire；　had　already　taken　up　covering　positions　and　were　blocking　their　escape。
　〃Hauser's　trying　to　drive　us　out　on　the　bridge；〃　cried　Philip。
　Another　burst　of　gunfire　tore　some　leaves　off　a　tree　branch　above　them。
　〃We've　no　choice！〃　Tom　cried。
　In　another　moment　they　were　running　out　on　the　swaying　bridge；　half…carrying；　half…dragging　their　father。　The　soldiers　on　the　far　side　dropped　to　their　knees；　blocking　their　exit；　guns　pointed。
　〃Just　keep　going；〃　Tom　shouted。
　They　were　about　a　third　of　the　way　across　when　the　soldiers　in　front　of　them　fired　a　warning　volley　above　their　heads。　At　the　same　time　a　voice　rang　out　from　behind　them。　Tom　turned。　Hauser　and　several　more　soldiers　were　blocking　their　retreat　at　the　other　end　of　the　bridge。
　They　were　trapped　in…between；　all　five　of　them。
　The　soldiers　fired　a　second　volley；　this　one　lower。　Tom　could　hear　the　bullets　passing　like　bees　above　their　heads。　They　had　reached　the　middle　of　the　bridge；　and　it　was　now　swaying　and　jouncing　from　their　motion。　Tom　looked　back；　looked　forward。　They　stopped。　There　was　nothing　more　they　could　do。　It　was　over。
　〃Don't　move；〃　Hauser　called　out　to　them；　strolling　out　on　the　bridge　with　a　smile；　weapon　trained　on　them。　They　watched　him　approach。　Tom　glanced　at　his　father。　He　was　looking　at　Hauser　with　fear　and　hatred。　The　expression　on　his　father's　face　frightened　him　even　more　than　their　situation。
　Hauser　stopped　a　hundred　feet　from　them；　steadying　himself　on　the　swaying　bridge。　〃Well；　well；〃　he　said。　〃If　it　isn't　old　Max　and　his　three　sons。　What　a　nice　family　reunion。〃
　
　78
　
　During　the　twelve　hours　Sally　had　lain　behind　the　tree　trunk；　her　thoughts　had；　for　some　reason；　turned　to　her　father。　That　last　summer　of　his　life　he　had　taught　her　how　to　shoot。　After　he　died；　she　had　continued　to　go　down　to　the　bluffs　to　practice　shooting　apples　and　oranges；　and　later　pennies　and　dimes。　She　had　gotten　to　be　an　excellent　shot；　but　it　was　a　useless　skill…she　had　no　interest　in　petition　or　hunting。　She　had　simply　enjoyed　it。　Some　people　liked　to　bowl；　some　liked　Ping…Pong…she　liked　to　shoot。　Of　course；　in　New　Haven　it　was　the　most　politically　incorrect　skill　of　all。　Julian　was　horrified　when　he　found　out。　He　made　her　promise　to　give　up　shooting　and　keep　it　a　secret…not　bec