Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur - Страница 72

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and sinews had never knitted again.  The hand was a dead and insensate

thing.

Using the caution of a natural predator and helped by the newsflashes on

the radio, he had groped his way carefully through the net that was

spread for him, and now he was on Jabulani and he could restrain himself

no longer.

He hit the mud hole at forty and the Chevy whipped and spun, slewing her

back end deep into the mud and high-centring her belly on the soft ooze.

He left her there and went on swiftly through the rain, loping on long

legs.  Once he giggled and sucked at his teeth, but then he was silent

again.

It was dark by the time he climbed the kopie behind Jabulani homestead.

He lay there for two hours peering down into the driving rain, waiting

for the darkness.

Once night fell, he could see no lights, and he began to worry, there

should have been lights burning.

He left the kopje and moved cautiously through the darkness down the

hill.  He avoided the servants quarters, and went through the trees to

the landing-strip.

He ran into the side of the hanger in the dark and followed the wall to

the side doorway.

Frantically he spread his arms and felt for the aircraft that should be

here, and when he realized that it was not he let out a groan of

frustration.

They were gone.  He had planned and schemed in vain, all his desperate

striving was in vain.

Growling like an animal, he smashed the fist of his good hand against

the wall, enjoying the pain of it in his frustration, and his anger and

his hatred was so strong that it shook his body like a fever, and he

cried out aloud, a formless animal cry without coherence or sense.

Suddenly the rain stopped.  The heavy drum of it upon the iron roof of

the hangar ceased so abruptly that Akkers was distracted.  He went to

the opening and looked out.

The stars were swimming mistily above him, and the only sound was the

gurgle and chuckle of running water and the dripping of the trees.

There was the glimmering of light now, and he saw the white walls of the

homestead shine amongst the trees.  He could do damage there, Akkers

realized.  He could find there some outlet for his terrible frustration.

There was furniture to smash, and the thatch would burn, if lit from

inside, the thatch would burn even in this weather.

He stared towards the homestead through the dark sodden trees.

Debra woke in the silence.  She had fallen asleep in the midst of the

storm, perhaps as a form of escape.

Now she groped for the warm comforting body of the dog but he was gone.

There was a patch of warmth on the bed beside her where he had lain.

She listened intently and there was nothing but the soft sounds of water

in the guttering and far-off the growl of thunder.  She remembered her

earlier panic and she was ashamed.

She stood up from the bed and she was shivering with the cold in her

loose, free-flowing dark blue maternity blouse, and the elastic-fronted

slacks that were adjustable to her expanding waistline.  She felt with

her toes and found the light ballet pumps on the stone floor and pushed

her feet into them.

She started towards her dressing-room for a sweater, then she would make

herself a cup of hot soup, she decided.

Zulu started barking.  He was outside in the front garden.  Clearly he

had left the house through the small hinged doorway that David had built

especially for him in the veranda wall.

The dog had many barks, each with a different meaning which Debra

understood.

A self-effacing woof, that was the equivalent of the watch-man's Ten

o'clock on a June night, and all's well.  Or a longer-drawn-out yowl,

that meant, There is a full moon out tonight, and the wolf's blood in my

veins will not allow me to sleep.

A sharper, meaningful bark, Something is moving down near the pump

house. It may be a lion.  And then there was an urgent clamouring

chorus, There is dire danger threatening.  Beware!

Beware!  It was the danger bark now, and then growling through closed

jaws as though he were worrying something.

Debra went out on to the veranda and she felt the puddled rainwater

soaking through her light shoes.  Zulu was harrying something in the

front garden, she could hear the growling and scuffling, the movement of

bodies locked in a struggle.  She stood silently, uncertain of what to

do, knowing only that she could not go out to Zulu.  She was blind and

helpless against the unknown adversary.  As she hesitated she heard

clearly the sound of a heavy blow.  it cracked on bone, and she heard

the thump of a body falling.  Zulu's growls were cut off abruptly, and

there was silence.  Something had happened to the dog.

Now she was completely alone in the silence.

No, not silence.  There was the sound of breathing a heavy panting

breath.

Debra shrank back against the veranda wall, listening and waiting.

She heard footsteps, human footsteps coming through the garden towards

the front door.  The footsteps squelched and splashed in the rain

puddles.

She wanted to call out a challenge, but her voice was locked in her

constricted throat.  She wanted to run, but her legs were paralysed by

the sound of the intruder climbing the front steps.

A hand brushed against the wire scieening, and then settled on the

handle, rattling it softly.

At last Debra found her voice.  Who is that?  she called, a high panicky

cry that ran out into the night silence.

Instantly the soft sounds ceased.  The intruder was frozen by her

challenge.  She could imagine whoever it was standing on the top step,

peering through the screening into the darkness of the veranda, trying

to make her out in the gloom.  Suddenly she was thankful for the dark

blouse and black slacks.

She waited motionlessly, listening, and she heard a little wind shake

the tree-tops, bringing down a sudden quick patter of droplets.  A

hunting owl called down near the dam.  She heard the thunder murmur

bad-temperedly along the hills, and a nightiar screeched harshly from

amongst the poinsettia bushes.

The silence went on for a long time, and she knew she could not stand it

much longer.  She could feel her lips beginning to quiver and the cold

and fear and the weight of the child were heavy upon her bladder, she

wanted to run, but there was nowhere to run to.

Then suddenly the silence was broken.  In the darkness there was the

sound of a man giggling.  It was shockingly close and clear, and it was

a crazy sound.  The shock of it seemed to clutch at her heart and crush

the air from her lungs.  Her legs went weak under her, beginning to

shake, and the pressure on her bladder was intolerable, for she

recognized the sound of that laughter, the sick insane sound of it was

graven upon her mind.

A hand shook the door handle, jerking and straining at it.  Then a

shoulder crashed into the narrow frame.  It was a screen door, not built

to withstand rough treatment.  Debra knew it would yield quickly.

She screamed then, a high ringing scream of terror, and it seemed to

break the spell which held her.  Her legs would move again, and her

brain would work.

She whirled and ran back into her workroom, slamming the door and

locking it swiftly.

She crouched beside the door, thinking desperately.

She knew that as soon as he broke into the house Akkers need only switch

on a light.  The electricity generator would automatically kick in on

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