"Monica Hughes - Devil On My Back" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hughes Monica)

weeks ago. He was getting thin. His underwear hung loosely on him and he had to bind his toga tightly
around his waist to stop his undershorts from slipping off.
He had trudged another fifty meters along the moon's path when a sudden thought stopped him in
midstride. He stumbled. Fool! Idiot! A snare meant the presence of human beings to set it. He wasn't
alone in this vast wilderness after all. Somewhere, within a days walk, maybe closer, were other human
beings.
He called out, suddenly desperate for company. His voice dropped among the trees and the
grass without even an echo. He called again and strained his ears, but only silence answered. He was too
far away to hear even the voice of the river.
Lonelier than ever before he limped on until the moon set and he could go no further. He didn't
bother looking for a comfortable place, but wraped his toga around him and collapsed where he had
stopped.
***
He had not been walking for long the next morning before he found that he was once more going
downhill towards the river. He limped on. His eyes were hot and the lids gummed up. His face felt stiff
and his mouth was like sand. The slope steepened and fell away beneath his feet so that he had to hang
on to the trees that now grew more closely together. He came upon the river so suddenly that he almost
fell into it.
 High above it was a tree whose roots hung half exposed over a place where the soil had fallen
away from the bank. He could climb down beside it. But would he be able to get up again?
The water spoke softly of coolness, wetness; stomach filling, soothing to sunburnt face and head.
Tomi stripped off his toga and knotted one end to the tree just above its roots. The other end hung free a
couple of meters above the shore.
"If I get trapped down there I'll die... but if I don't get something to drink, I'll certainly die."
He slipped over the bank feet first and scrambled down with the help of his toga rope. He let go
and landed on a narrow strip of earth that gave, but then held firm. He fell on his stomach and scooped
cold water into his mouth and over his head and face. He went on splashing in a kind of ecstasy long after
the real need was gone.
At last he got to his feet and reached up for the end of the toga. It dangled just beyond the tips of
his outstretched fingers. He gave a feeble spring upwards. Not quite enough. He gathered together
strengths he did not know he possessed, jumped wildly, caught the end of the toga and clawed his way
upward, his bare feet pushing at the falling dirt and stones and tangled roots.
After he had rested he untied the toga from the tree and knotted it carelessly around his middle
before climbing up the hill to a place level enough for walking. It was not easy to find. The smooth
meadowland was gone. Now the trees crowded closely together, with thicket between them instead of
grass. At last he found a narrow beaten path which he guessed must have been made by small animals. It
wandered up and down, skirting the thickest masses of brush, but it headed more or less in the direction
he wanted to goтАФup river.
He trudged along, stopping only when he came upon a creeper bearing smooth berries of dark
red. Remembering the delightful meal on the island he didn't hesitate to start picking them and stuffing
them in his mouth. They had a bitter aftertaste, with none of the sweet juiciness of the others, but he told
himself that at least they would fill him.
After a few mouthfuls he felt sick and stopped eating. "It's because I've been so long without
food," he told himself. He walked on slowly. In spite of all the water he had drunk his mouth felt very dry.
He looked over to the left to see if the river were close enough for another drink. The trees seemed to
double, turn misty and dance in front of his eyes. A sudden shaft of sunlight cut through the trees and
stabbed into his head like a knife. He clutched at a tree.
"Tired, that's all. Have a bit of a rest. Go on later." He fell clumsily to his knees, his face in the
dead leaves, his fat bottom sticking up in the air. He wasn't comfortable, but he felt too tired and sick to
move.