The Wasteland Saga: The Old Man and the Wasteland, Savage Boy and The Road is a River. Nick Cole
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Название: The Wasteland Saga: The Old Man and the Wasteland, Savage Boy and The Road is a River
Автор: Nick Cole
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Научная фантастика
isbn: 9780007490882
isbn:
It’s really not enough you know. Five bullets. It sounds like a lot of them from the howling.
In the sand he stepped on something thick and long. Man-made. Kicking his feet through the soft desert powder he found the remains of a thick cable.
A downed power line.
He followed it away through the brush to the south.
If I can find the tower I can climb it even if it’s down.
He headed south, maneuvering around the scrub and keeping one step on the cable as he ran.
Looking back over his shoulder he could see the elevated rise of the highway. In the last moments of light he saw the shadowy wolves. He counted quickly but gave up as they shifted. It seemed there were maybe twenty of them. It was a large pack.
Behind him, a cacophony of yapping went up as the wolves tried to find his trail.
At least there must be a town ahead. This power line must have been going somewhere.
He could hear the wolves in the brush now, bounding and leaping about. Making a game of hide and kill with the Old Man.
The downed power line began to rise from the sand, and soon it was high enough for him to follow with his hand.
It’s rising. Something to climb.
Frantically he plowed through the scrub, heedless of scorpions.
The evening wind had picked up and was blowing sand across the desert. Ahead he could hear the singsong of metal bending in the wind. It reminded him of the village.
The wolves had his scent now and he could hear them racing in the brush behind him
Rising out of the dark he could make out a toppled power tower. The kind that was nothing more than cross welded steel frames rising high above the landscape. But this one had fallen on its side.
A wolf howled behind the Old Man, and not daring to look back he raced for the nearest girder and began to climb.
At first, he had to climb with the gun and the crowbar in his hands, but once he was high enough, he hung for a second, placing the gun in his satchel.
Below him, the entire pack circled, whining and yelping.
Once the Old Man was as high as the toppled girder would rise, he wedged himself between two supports and glanced down.
The wolves whined and howled in high little yelps. Pacing, they began to race back and forth until the largest of them let out a bone-chilling howl.
If I fall …
Then don’t. Don’t fall.
The Old Man lay under a blanket of stars. Above him a thousand points of broken glass shimmered. The moon had gone down and now the sky was black before dawn.
This is how the world is in the night. In all the nights I was a child and a young man before the bombs. It was like this in the night.
It was like this for the man in the book. At night. With the great fish. Will I find my great fish? Will my story go that far?
Below the wolves had disappeared for the most part. He could hear them ranging through the dirt and scrub. All except the big one. The big one waited. Sitting mostly. Waiting. Occasionally he would pad around beneath the Old Man, checking the perimeter. A loping little gait, almost friendly. Just business.
The Old Man lay precariously across the top of one of the girders where it intersected with another. It was a small space and not much more.
A strong wind or sleep and over I go. So no sleep tonight.
What will the wolves do in the morning?
What will you do in the morning?
The big wolf didn’t answer. But he seemed to be listening.
The Old Man drank some water.
His neck was tired. His back felt numb from the girder. And his legs were falling asleep. He flexed them, moving back and forth. He winked at the big wolf.
If I fall, you must be ready. So no sleep for you either.
Are you crazy?
No.
The wolves won’t let you go five feet.
I must try.
You will fail if it comes to that.
“If” it comes to that.
Below the wolf waited.
At dawn, the wolves settled to wait. There were thirty of them. The two killers baited the Alpha. They wanted to leave the scrawny man and return to the sickly mule deer near Phoenix, a hot pile of ruins the wolves called “The Uneven Ground.” The two killers walked away decidedly. But none of the females followed. The young watched. As if their decision mattered. But the big Alpha waited.
The Old Man watched the wolves play their game.
It’s obvious to me.
How so?
They don’t want to stay. They want something to kill. To eat. But the big one there won’t let them. What he says goes. There is more to me, for him, than just a meal. So I think all of us must wait.
He awoke with a start. He had drifted for only a moment. But he had started to roll. Started to roll off the girder to the wolves below.
I can’t wait all day, my friend. Maybe you should listen to the rest of your family and go. That would be for the best.
The big Alpha watched from underneath the top of his eyes, giving away nothing.
I have a family too, you know.
Do you?
The Old Man looked behind him, toward where he had been heading. A dawn breeze moved softly over his gray hair in the orange light of a new day.
The power lines ran down the length of the fallen tower, which was even higher at the far end. The lines continued out across a low riverbed. They stretched loosely across the gap to meet another tower, twisted and fallen in the same direction on the other side of the dry riverbed.
These must have fallen in the shock wave after Phoenix.
The Old Man rose to his knees. He moved his satchel onto his back.
Listen, wolf. I can’t wait for you to leave. So I must go. СКАЧАТЬ