"Johnston, Jim - Hot Ice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johnston Jim)

That sight broke me from my freeze. I had my rifle handy and I worked the bolt action even as the bear buried its muzzle in the kid's intestines.
I knew better than to try to save him. I headed for the cave. Monro saw me and mistook my actions. He bellowed into the wind: 'Into the cave, we can hold 'em off there!'
Maybe we could have held them off. If more than just Monro and I had survived the first onslaught of the bears. The bears sure didn't want to come into the tunnel. Did they - like the huskies - recognise the presence of Malsum? I guess Momma Bear didn't raise any stupid Junior Bears.
Unfortunately, I hadn't reckoned on Angekok. He strode between the heaving flanks of the murderous bears as they pursued the last remnants of their prey. The bears either knew him so well that they paid him no mind at all, or else it was like he was invisible to them. Angekok strode up to the cavern entrance and raised his harpoon in command. 'Halt! Go no further, or else you risk the wrath of Malsum!'
Monro gasped, 'What in Sam Hill is happenin' here? How come the bears ain't touchin' him?'
'The bears ain't touchin' him,' I replied, 'because the bears are his welcoming committee. He's done this before, Monro.'
I stepped out from the cover of the rocks and didn't waste time drawing a bead on the Eskimo. I fired from the hip, three times in quick succession.
Angekok was blown backwards like a rag-doll with each slug pumping into him. Monro gasped in horror: 'Didja hafta kill him! How are we ever gonna find our way back to civilisation now?'
'We'll get back, don't you worry. But your faithful Eskimo guide had other ideas for us.' I hadn't killed the Eskimo, because even as I dragged Monro down the tunnel, I could hear him screeching in pain and hatred:
'Tornaq ia - ia tornaq - uoiea uae yeee uia - tornaq ia -'
I said to Monro: 'Seems like Angekok has done this sort of thing before, leads strangers into the wilderness, loses them for a while and then tells them they can winter-over until the Spring -'
'How can you know all this?'
'Us ex-Mounties always try to get our man.'
I pulled us down behind the cover of some boulders and turned to see what Angekok was going to send in after us. Mose and I had prepared for this eventuality, reading between the lines of Captain Clarke's diaries and his mention of the demon-servant.
To keep Monro busy, I said, 'We can wait here until the bears go away, then I think we should high-tail it outta here.'
Monro shook his massive head. 'But what about the diamonds, the gold?'
'I think you've been bamboozled. Who told you about these diamonds and gold?'
Monro looked away, pensive, avoiding my eyes. He muttered, 'Back in New Orleans I was approached by an old-timer, name of Clarke, Captain Clarke. Ever heard of him?'
'Can't say that I have.'
'Well, seems like the old Captain had an enemy - an Eskimo. This Eskimo had trailed him all the way down through Canada, across the 48 states.'
I scanned the cave mouth for activity. 'This Eskimo. Did he have a name?'
'According to Clarke he was one of their witch-doctors. Called himself Winpe. Had a real mad-on for the old captain. Promised to kill him. So, he - he called me in.'
I could still hear Angekok screaming, his tormented voice rising and falling: 'Tornaq ia - ia tornaq - uoiea uae yeee uia - tornaq ia -'
'Why would he call you in?'
'I got - connections. He knew I could protect him if this old Eskimo showed up, and the old Captain was getting messages that the old witch-doctor was on his way.'
I shushed Monro, although I wanted to hear what he had to say. I could hear Angekok screaming, but this time it was in English:
'Ahhhh, so you have answered my summons, Tornaq, child of darkness!'
I grinned at Monro. 'You some sort of philanthropist?'
'Haw - no! The old captain paid me plenty. A dozen uncut stones of the highest quality. It was one sweet deal -'
A wind began to blow straight down the cavern. It was as if someone had opened a door for a draught to blow straight through.
Angekok was screaming at us again: 'Go, Tornaq, and slay those who have spilt my blood!' I craned to watch the cavern entrance once more. 'And, did you manage to protect him?'
'Sure I did. Whatchew think I am - some sort of bum? Sure I saved him, but old guys like that don't live forever.'
Then I heard the heavy tread of something entering the cavern. I looked again and saw a blocky shadow filling the flickering entrance, outlined against the burning remnants of our camp. It was about eight feet tall, and its wings about thirty feet across. Its head was like a bestial walrus's with a diabolically snarling expression. It carried walrus-type tusks in its jaws, easily three feet long. An enormous hump of muscle between its shoulders gave it an uncouth but powerful appearance. Its shoulders and barrel chest narrowed to the waist and hips with legs so lithe and lean that the whole thing was like a cross between a winged cat and a winged walrus.
'Son of a bitch!' I breathed. 'I was afraid of this!'
I had heard Angekok calling it Tornaq.
Monro groaned, his eyes popping as if he'd never close them again this side of sanity.
I brought the rifle up and drew a bead on a tiny, obsidian-black eye.
I was squinting along the barrel of my Winchester, straight into the face of animalistic madness. The tornaq was built like a bull, with the speed of a panther. Before I could draw a bead on it, it slashed open Monro's arm from wrist to elbow. Mose told me there'd be days like these -
So I shot it three times for luck. Monro ran off after the first shot, screaming like a rabbit with its tail kicked. Three slugs into its ugly kisser should've told it not to get fresh on the first date.
Sure, Mose had told me that there'd be days like this. Days when I'd be going up against a supernatural horror that shouldn't really exist outside of an opium dream. I was still waiting after the echoes of the third rifle-shot had stopped careering off the walls of the cavern to see whether the tornaq was going to play ball and fall down and die.
For a long while it looked like it was going to stand there and just bleed on the cavern floor.
Mose had told me, 'If it's flesh and blood, my boy, then it'll bleed just like any other son of a bitch! Of course, that's the theory, my boy!'
Sure, Mose. That's the theory. Still, that's no reason why I can't take it on the lam and let the theory work out for itself whether it's gonna hold water or not.
I turned and ran, hard on the heels of Monro, who was blundering through the darkness, tripping over rocks and picking himself up again and charging full-tilt into sharp turns.
As I ran into him, Monro risked a glance backwards. 'Jesus, I don't believe it. You stopped that thing in its tracks.'
I didn't think it was worth my while to tell him that Mose had researched the death medicine and medicine-marks I'd scratched on the casings of the bullets.
'Just in case,' Mose had said at the time. If I had him here, I'd've kissed his round, bald head. With a noise like a small earthquake, the tornaq finally crashed to the ground.
'How's that wound, Monro?'
'It's just a flesh wound, but I can feel it stiffening up already. What was that thing?!'
I looked him over, with my Winchester over one shoulder, mopping the sweat from my brow. 'How the hell should I know - hot in here, ain't it?'