Death World(科幻战争)-第26部分

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zombie　hurled　itself　at　him；　and　hit　the　ground　where　Greiss　had　been；　setting　light　to　the
undergrowth。　It　tried　to　stand　again；　but　scorched　earth　was　sloughing　from　it　like　dead　skin；
withering　to　ash；　and　the　bones　of　its　purloined　skeleton　were　beginning　to　show　through　and　it
could　no　longer　lift　its　own　weight。
The　rest　of　the　squad　dropped　their　packs　and　tried　to　scatter；　but　they　couldn’t　go　far；　confined
to　the　narrowed　corridor　their　knives　had　cleared。　The　same　couldn’t　be　said　of　the　zombies：　their
movements　were　slow　and　awkward　but　unhampered；　the　foliage　itself　seeming　to　part　for　them。
They　separated　too；　each　choosing　a　target。　Lorenzo　found　himself　side　by　side　with　Braxton；　both
trying　to　press　themselves　back　into　the　jungle；　thorns　tearing　at　their　jackets　and　their　hair；　nettles
stinging　their　hands；　as　two　flaming　zombies　homed　in　on　them。
He　heard　a　yell；　“Aim　for　their　kneecaps！”　and　he　followed　Armstrong’s　suggestion　and　tried　to
shoot　the　nearest　zombie’s　leg　out　from　under　it。　He　got　in　four　shots　before　it　was　upon　him。　It
raised　a　ponderous　fist；　and　Lorenzo　wasn’t　sure　who　its　target　was—him　or　Braxton—but　then　the
fist　came　down　towards　him；　and　he　ducked；　and　he　tried　to　scramble　past　the　zombie’s　leg；　but　his
hand　recoiled　from　a　flaming　footprint　in　the　grass。　The　zombie　swung　around　to　follow　him　but　a
bone　snapped；　and　its　leg　buckled；　and　Lorenzo　knew　his　las…shots　had　done　some　good　after　all。
The　zombie　was　falling—but　it　managed　to　turn　its　fall　into　a　lunge；　and　Lorenzo　couldn’t　get
out　of　the　way　in　time　as　the　creature；　now　little　more　than　a　burning　skeleton；　plummeted　towards
him。　For　an　instant；　he　was　staring　into　its　hollow　eye　sockets—piggy　ork　eye　sockets—and　they
seemed　to　be　mocking　him。　A　tusked　mouth　gaped　in　a　rictus　grin。　Lorenzo　brought　up　a　foot；
planted　it　in　the　zombie’s　stomach　and　tried　to　fling　it　over　him。　It　fell　apart　with　the　impact　of　his
boot；　and　though　the　bulk　of　its　mass　passed　safely　over　his　head；　Lorenzo　was　showered　with　bones
and　mud　and　burning　leaves。
He　rolled；　to　put　out　any　flames　that　may　have　taken　hold　of　his　clothing。　Then　he　sprang　to　his
feet；　lasgun　in　hand；　to　find　that　the　other　zombies　had　suffered　the　same　fate　as　his。　The
combination　of　flames　and　las…fire　had　destroyed　their　cohesion；　and　they　were　collapsing　at　the　feet
of　the　relieved　Jungle　Fighters。　Two　skeletons　were　relatively　intact；　and　as　Lorenzo　watched　they
were　drawn　into　the　ground。　Storm　reached　one　before　it　could　vanish；　and　drove　his　gun　butt　into
its　spine；　breaking　it。　The　other—the　skeleton　of　the　monster　that　had　attacked　Greiss—escaped。
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The　Jungle　Fighters　relaxed　and　regrouped　in　the　sudden　silence；　dozens　of　small　fires　flickering
around　them　until　the　rain　extinguished　them。
“Think　that’s　the　last　we’ll　see　of　them；　sergeant？”　asked　Myers。
“I　hope　so；　Bullseye；”　growled　Greiss。　He　cast　a　disparaging　eye　over　the　discarded　flamer。
“Because　this　thing’s　just　about　on　empty。”　Myers　and　Storm　packed　up　the　device　anyway；　in　case
they　were　being　watched—although　for　the　first　time　in　two　days；　none　of　the　Catachans　felt　as　if
they　were。
“There　were　more　of　those　things　out　there。”　Armstrong　pointed　out　to　Greiss。　“You　only　burnt
the　front　ranks　of　them。　There　were　at　least　a　dozen　more　behind—they　escaped　into　the　ground
when　they　saw　the　flames。”
“Not　to　mention　all　the　other　orks　that　must’ve　died　on　Rogar　these　past　few　years；”　said
Lorenzo。
“And　Guardsmen；”　said　Braxton　quietly。
Greiss　nodded。　He　knew。
“Do　you　think　they　can　move　underground；　sergeant？”　Braxton　asked。　“Or　will　they　have　to
resurface　where　they　went　down？”
“I　don’t　know；”　said　Greiss。　“What’re　you　thinking？”
“That　it　might　be　the　right　occasion　to　break　out　those　mines。”
Greiss　studied　Braxton　for　a　moment；　then　a　grin　tugged　at　his　lips。　“I　like　the　way　you　think；
Guardsman。　Right；　troopers；　all　the　shredders　you　have；　hand　’em　over。　Patch；　you’re　with　me。　You
saw　where　some　of　them　walking　corpses　disappeared；　right？　Well；　the　next　time　they　try　climbing
out　of　their　graves；　they’ll　have　a　nasty　shock　waiting　for　’em。　Lorenzo；　Braxton；　you　get　back　to
clearing　the　way。　Once　these　babies　are　laid；　we’re　going　to　want　to　get　out　of　here　real　quick。”
“Yes；　sergeant；”　said　Lorenzo。
Greiss　had　half…turned　away　when　a　thought　occurred　to　him　and　he　looked　back　at　Braxton。
“Let　me　see　your　knife；”　he　demanded。　Braxton　showed　him　the　small；　blunt　blade　he　had　been
using；　and　Greiss　expressed　his　contempt　for　what　he　called　an　“Imperial　pig…sticker”。
Lorenzo　had　noticed　that　he　had　been　wearing　two　knives　today；　and　he’d　guessed　where　the
second　had　come　from。　Still；　he　felt　his　eyes　widening　as　the　sergeant　drew　Woods’　devil　claw—at
over　a　metre　long；　more　a　sword　than　a　knife—and　handed　it　to　the　Validian。　“Here；”　he　granted；
“you　should　find　it　easier　going　with　this。　It’s　only　a　loan；　mind。”
Braxton　accepted　the　claw；　and　turned　it　over　in　his　hands。　He　admired　its　well…honed　edge；　and
gauged　how　light　and　well　balanced　it　was　thanks　to　its　hollow　blade；　half…filled　with　mercury。
“Yes；　sergeant；”　he　said；　in　a　voice　full　of　awe。
“I　can　see　now　why　you　think　so　much　of　him；”　said　the　Validian；　when　he　and　Lorenzo　were　alone
together。　Greiss　and　Armstrong　were　still　some　way　behind；　laying　mines；　and　Myers　and　Storm　had
taken　this　opportunity—while　their　progress　was　impeded—to　fall　back　and　hunt　jungle　lizards　and
anything　else　they　deemed　edible。　Lorenzo　and　Braxton　were　left　with　the　repetitive　and　wearying
work　of　swinging　their　knives；　forging　ahead—though　Lorenzo　had　to　admit；　it　was　going　a　lot
faster　now　that　Braxton　was　properly　equipped。
“Who？”　he　asked。
“Sergeant　Greiss。”
“Of　course　we　do。　He　wouldn’t　have　that　rank　if　he　hadn’t　earned　the　respect　of　all　of　us。”
“I　didn’t　realise。　At　first；　he　seemed—I　don’t　know—surly；　I　guess。　Distant。　Disapproving。”
“If　you’re　looking　for　a　soft　approach；”　said　Lorenzo；　“I’m　afraid　Catachan　doesn’t　breed　’em
like　that。”
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“I　guess　not。　But　now　I’ve　seen　Greiss　in　action—the　way　he　leads　from　the　front；　keeps　this
squad　together；　keeps　us　focused　on　the　mission。　And　the　way　he…　I　mean；　he　really　does　care
about　his　troopers；　even　if　he　doesn’t　always…”
“He’d　give　his　life　for　us；”　said　Lorenzo　simply；　“as　we　would　for　him。　Your　point　is？”
“I’m　used　to　sergeants　who　do　things　by　the　book；　that’s　all。　Same　with　the　commissar。　If
Mackenzie　had　survived；　if　he　could　see　Greiss　now…”
“If　he’d　been　willing　to　look；”　said　Lorenzo　pointedly。
“Yes。　I　just　think；　Mackenzie；　he　was　like　most　of　us。　We　don’t　know　till　we　see　for　ourselves。　I
can’t　imagine　what　it　must　have　been　like　for　you；　for　Greiss；　for　all　of　you；　being　brought　up　on　a
world　like　this。　A　deathworld。　But　I’m　starting　to　understand；　and　Mackenzie—I　think　he　would
have　understood　too；　in　time。”
“You　don’t　think　he’d　have　filed　his　complaint　against　Old　Hardhead？　You　don’t　think　he’d
have　had　him　shot？”
“We’ll　never　know；”　said　the　Validian。　“Best　thing；　I　think；　is　to　let　it　lie。　I　certainly　won’t　be
saying　a　thing。”
Lorenzo　was　about　to　agree　when　he　spotted　something。　A　triangle。　Silver。　He　could　easily　have
mistaken　it　for　an　exotic　leaf；　lying　flat　against　a　branch；　had　the　pattern　not　connected　with
something　in　his　memory。　A　warning。　Braxton’s　knife　hand　was　moving　towards　it；　and　Lorenzo
batted　it　away　even　before　his　conscious　mind　remembered　what　the　pattern　represented。　The
triangle　wrinkled；　as　a　snake　head　jerked　out　from　beneath　it　and　made　a　stab　at　where　the　hand　had
just　been。
“I　think　we　should　both　talk　less；”　said　Lorenzo；　“and　pay　more　attention　to　where　we’re　going。”
Braxton　nodded。　But　it　wasn’t　long　before　he　spoke　up　again。　“I　just　wondered；”　he　said；　“if　I
should　say　something。　To　the　others。　Let　them　know。　That　they　can　trust　me；　I　mean。”
Lorenzo　smiled　tightly。　“They　know。　Old　Hardhead　in　particular。”　He　indicated　the　devil　claw　in
Braxton’s　hand。　“Trust　me；　he　knows。”
Then　Greiss　and　Armstrong　came　pelting　towards　them；　sweeping　Myers　and　Storm　along　in
their　wake。
They　had　barely　come　to　a　halt　when　a　series　of　explosions　from　behind　them　rattled　the　ground
and　shook　leaves　from　their　branches。　The　trap　had　been　sprung。　Greiss’　cruel　grin　exposed　his　teeth
and　flared　his　nostrils。　They　all　waited　for　a　minute；　listening　for　the　shuffling　footsteps　of　zombies；
squinting　through　the　rain　for　the　shape　of　an　ork；　but　there　was　nothing。
And；　a　few　minutes　after　that；　Braxton　found　a　trap。　A　snare　in　the　undergrowth；　ready　to　tighten
about　the　ankle　of　an　unwary　traveller　and　hoist　him　into　the　trees。　A　sign；　Lorenzo　agreed　when　the
Validian　pointed　it　out　to　him；　that　orks　had　been　here。　Crafty　orks。　Then　he　inspected　the　snare
more　closely。　It　was　fashioned　from　creepers—but；　far　than　having　been　knotted　together　by　hand；　it
seemed　to　have　grown　into　its　unnatural　shape。
“Rogar’s　still　learning；”　he　murmured　as　Braxton　used　his　devil　claw　to　slice　through　the　snare。
“It’s　learning　from　us。”
They　forged　on　well　into　the　night；　making　up　for　their　late　start；　until　Lorenzo’s　body　wanted
nothing　more　than　to　shut　down。　He’d　been　running　on　adrenaline；　but　now　even　this　was　spent。　The
acid　rain　hadn’t　let　up；　and　despite　his　precautions　Lorenzo’s　face　and　neck　were　red　raw。　The
wound　in　his　side　felt　like　it　was　ablaze。　He　had　begun　to　wonder　if　Sergeant　Greiss　would　ever　call
a　halt　to　this　torture；　though　of　course　he　would　never　have　complained。
At　last；　Greiss　accepted　that　even　his　squad　needed　rest。　He　warned；　however；　that　they　didn’t
have　much　time。　He　intended　to　move　out　early　in　the　morning—and　until　then；　the　Jungle　Fighters
would　have　to　keep　watch　in　three　shifts　of　two　in　case　the　blue　light　returned。
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For　the　first　time；　Lorenzo　didn’t　volunteer　for　first　watch。　Greiss　detailed　Myers　and　Storm　to
that　duty；　and　Lorenzo　was　grateful　to　be　placed　on　the　third　and　final　watch　with　Armstrong；
possibly　in　deference　to　the　fact　that　both　were　wounded。　Only　as　they　set　up　camp—positioning
their　plastic　sheeting　not　to　collect　water　tonight　but　to　deflect　the　rain—did　he　realise　how　tired　the
sergeant　himself　looked。
They　built　the　biggest；　hottest　fire　they　could；　despite　the　risk　that　it　might　be　seen。　They　did　it　to
spite　what　they　now　saw　to　be　their　real　enemy：　Rogar　III。
Lorenzo　was　asleep　almost　before　his　head　touched　the　ground。　But　it　seemed　like　his　eyes　had
only　been　closed　a　minute　when　the　shouting　began。
He　thought　he　was　dreaming　again；　at　first。　That　dream　from　the　previous　night；　before　the　ork
camp；　when　dead　comrades　had　pulled　him　down　into　the　earth　to　join　them。　Only　this　time　it　was
real；　and　it　was　the　earth　itself　that　pulled　at　him。　Lorenzo　was　already　half…buried；　he　tried　to　stand；
to　tear　himself　free；　but　he　couldn’t　gain　leverage　and　the　pull　of　the　earth　only　increased。
Quicksand？　He　was　sinking；　though　the　ground　had　been　perfectly　firm　when　he　had　lain　down
on　it。　He　fought　the　urge　to　lash　out；　because　he　knew　he　would　only　go　down　fast