"Alan Dean Foster - Interlopers" - читать интересную книгу автора (Foster Alan Dean)

cloud forest. Harbos insisted everyone be back in camp by a certain hour, but there was no monitoring of
those who might want to arise and begin work before breakfast.
She ought to go right back to bed, she knew. But-where the hell was he? Making allowance for a possible
call of nature, she waited outside the tent. Fifteen minutes later he still had not returned. A check of her
watch showed the time: 3:20 A.M.. Even the Peruvian support staff, including those charged with preparing
the morning meal, were not stirring yet.
Where in the name of Atahualpa's ghost had he gone? She had put fresh batteries in her flashlight just a
week before. Thus armed against the night, with light and firm knowledge of the citadel's layout, she still
hesitated. Stumbling around the site in the dark was not a good idea, even for someone like herself who knew
the loca-tion of every pit and preliminary excavation. Curiosity finally overcoming caution, she started out of
camp and up the main trail that led to the citadel.
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There was no moon that morning, and the stars were far away and little comfort. The beam of illumination that
her flashlight cut through the darkness seemed spare and constricted. Twisting trees heavy with orchids and
other epiphytes pressed close around her. Soft-footed creatures and things with no feet at all rustled in the
brush on either side of the narrow path. Snakes hunted at night, she knew, and wolf spiders as big as
tarantulas, with half-inch-long brown fangs and multiple eyes that gleamed like black mabe pearls. She did
her best to avoid brushing against the suffocating vegetation lest she spook something small and hungry that
might be living among the leaves.
The improbable wall loomed above her, a familiar if not entirely comforting presence she kept on her left as
she made her way to the slender defile that was the main entrance. As she climbed up and into the citadel
proper, the ancient stonework shut out the starlight around her. A quick sideways turn and then she was
through the keyhole and standing atop the artificial stone plateau of the city.
Of Coshocton Westcott, or anyone else, there was no sign. Only muted whispers in the grass and the
sleepily moaning branches of trees indicated that there was anything else alive within the ruins. This is
stupid, she told
herself. Really stupid. It would be more stupid still if in the darkness she tripped and hurt a leg, or worse,
stumbled into one of the excavated pits. Picking her way care-fully along the cleared trails, she made her way
toward the site where she and Westcott had found the two skulls.
It was empty, a dark, brooding maw among the encircling stones. That did it. Turning on one heel, she began
to retrace her steps. It had been a ridiculous idea from the start. Wherever Westcott went wandering before
dawn, it was evidently not among the ruins of the citadel.
Descending back through the narrow entrance, she emerged at the base of the wall and started to turn back
toward camp, when something flickering in the distance caught her attention. It came, not from the vicinity of
the tents nor from within the citadel, but partway down the steep, grass-covered slope of the mountain.
Frowning, she watched it for a long moment before she was sure it was a flashlight. It might still be a local
farmer, hunting for a lost sheep or pig or steer. Domesticated animals occasionally wandered up to the top of
the mountain in search of fresh forage, trailing tired, fussing locals in their wake. But the poor farmers who
populated the slopes and valleys of the Calla Calla could not usually afford flash-lights, much less batteries.
Switching off her own light, she stood motionless and alone in the darkness, the massive limestone wall
towering into the night sky behind her, and waited.
Eventually a figure appeared, a dark silhouette advancing through the night. When it grew near enough for her
to be certain of its identity, she called out softly. "Little early for aerobics, isn't it?"
Startled, Westcott's light came up, shining into her face. She put up a hand to shield her eyes. "Do you
mind?" The beam was lowered immediately, and she switched her own on.
"Sorry. I didn't see you standing there, Kelli." "No kidding. I thought you could see in the dark." His
expression was typically noncommittal. "I was pre-occupied."
She nodded slowly. Neither of them moved in the direction of the camp. Overhead, a cavalry of clouds was
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advancing westward from the jungle, threatening to attack with warm, driving rain.