Descendants of the Scythians - Страница 17

“I’m hanging on… I’ll hold on as long as… as long as J can… and I’ll be holding…”

Meaning that he would be holding Lida. He was holding her and would go on doing so… But what would happen when all his strength had ebbed away? What then? The hoarse barking of the dog was reflected in the multiple echo from the stalagmites. Why was she barking in such a strange way? The sound seemed muffled by a blanket. She stopped only to give another bark, but even hoarser this,time. No more sounds came from her afterwards. Then a voice:

“I think the dog has fallen from the stalagmite. Do you see her, Dmitro Borisovich?”

“No, I don’t,” the archeologist replied gravely. “Artem, keep your head up! The gas is getting closer to you. Keep your head up at all costs!”

Artem tried to raise his head — there was so much reproach in the archeologist’s voice… But, no, he couldn’t do it; his head was drooping down and he couldn’t do anything about it! Not just his head, but his entire body was being pulled down by some irresistible force. And how heavy Lida had become!…

The only thing Artem managed to do with great effort was open his eyes. Where were his friends? Oh, there they were. What was Ivan Semenovich up to, holding the safety matches and two dynamite charges? Was it really dynamite? And a fuse… What was he going to do?

“Attention, my friends!” the firm voice of the geologist resounded through the cave. “We have only one last chance of survival left… Only because it is our final chance I am going to try it, Dmitro Borisovich… The opening through which the gas is coming in is not too big. I’m going to throw these two charges into the hole. I hope the explosion will seal the opening. Do you follow me? I’m hoping there will be enough earth to seal the opening…”

“And.what if the explosion only makes the hole bigger? What then?”

“It won’t make our situation worse… Now… Watch it, everybody! Hide behind the stalagmites! Here it goes!”

A small flash from a lighted match. The fuse began hissing. A ring of smoke ran along the thick cord, accompanied with tiny sparks scattering around, getting ever closer to the charges. Artem gathered enough strength to watch all Ivan Semenovich’s movements closely. The explosion was their last hope. If they were lucky, the opening would be sealed off by the falling earth, the flow of the gas would be cut off, and consequently, its level will not rise, to drown them…

The geologist swung broadly, aiming the charges at the opening. With his other hand, he was holding on to the stalagmite. Another moment and…

But at the very last instant his foot in its heavy boot slipped on the slick surface of the stalagmite. Ivan Semenovich tottered just as he was tossing the charges and the fuses were burning out.

“Oh blast it!”

The charges, a smoke tail trailing behind them, whizzed through the air and disappeared in the gray gas. They landed not at the opening but much further to the left, at the foot of big rock that jutted out from the wall. What a stroke of bad luck! Now there was no telling what would happen.

For another moment, the hissing of the burning fuse could be heard; the gas did not prevent it from burning, as it would burn even under water. Then a powerful explosion sent big pieces of rock flying high up into the air. Yellow flames billowed. The rocks tumbled down with singularly lethal force. A thunderous, continuous noise enveloped everything, and it seemed that the blasts were coming from all sides and would never stop. The stones kept raining down with a deafening rattle, bombarding and hitting the stalagmites.

But the gazes of the people were fixed not on the falling stones but on the place in the wall where the explosion had taken place. Now the picture had changed radically.

A wide breach had opened there: the blast tore a gaping hole in the rocks, and jagged pieces were strewn all around. An even light flowed into the cave from this hole. But it was not the bright daylight of the July afternoon they had left behind on the surface. This grayish light, tinged with violet, reminded one of dusk or a rainy overcast.day. But where could this light be coming from so deep underground? What was its source?

There was no time to think about it. The firm voice of Ivan Semenovich rang out.

“No gas is coming through the new opening!”

It was true. And what is more, the gray gas could be seen trickling into the new opening in small rivulets. Did that mean that there was normal air behind that wall? But Artem’s ponderings were cut short.

“My friends! There is only way to save ourselves: we must try to reach the new breach opened by the blast. Dash through the gas, holding your breath,” Ivan Semenovich said. “There’s not a minute to lose! The longer we stay here, the more difficult it’ll be. Artem, can you carry Lida all by yourself? No, you can’t, of course. Stay where you are! I’ll help you and Lida.”

Then Ivan Semenovich, filling his lungs with air, plunged into the gray water-like waves. In a few seconds his head reemerged beside Artem. The geologist caught his breath and said:

“Let’s try to carry Lida over to the breach together. It’ll be safer that way. Dmitro Borisovich, I hope you’ll manage without my help. All right, we plunge into the gas all together now. Now, one… two… three!”

Artem and Ivan Semenovich, carrying the unconscious Lida, made a dash for the opening. Artem, holding his breath, mechanically repeated all the movements of the geologist. Billows of the gray smoke kept moving in front of his wide- open eyes. In an instant, he could see nothing but the grayness on all sides. There was only one thing he was fully aware of — the steady progress of Ivan Semenovich. In fact, all Artem had to do was to carry Lida, mechanically keeping pace with the geologist. Artem stumbled; his feet slid on the slippery rocks; the opening was not yet in sight. There was no air left in his chest; it seemed ready to burst with strain… But he had to push on, no matter what.

Only a few final steps — had the distance been greater, Artem would surely have failed to make it! — and the gas seemed less dense. Wasn’t it the light from the opening he had just gotten a glimpse of?… In a moment Artem’s head was above the surface of the gas. He could start breathing at last!

Guzzling air, Artem forged ahead toward the opening. At the length of Lida’s body away, he saw the head of Ivan Semenovich, but the rest of the geologist’s body — and Artem’s as well — could not be seen yet through the dense gray gas. There it was, the breach… but where was the archeologist? Artem stumbled over a sharp stone. Another effort… how impossibly difficult were those last few steps!

“Higher, higher!” Ivan Semenovich said encouragingly. “Dmitro Borisovich! Don’t lag behind! In a few moments we’ll be out in the fresh air! Just a few more steps!”

His last strength spent, Artem tripped and nearly fell down on the cold, damp piece of the limestone lying in the breach. He could not move another muscle or carry Lida any farther. Artem was at the end of his rope. Ivan Semenovich got there just in time to grab him and keep him from falling.

Artem’s legs and arms must have had some residual strength left in them, since he managed to push himself through the opening. He collapsed on the other side, his head dangling down from the edge. Then, unaware of how it came about, he tumbled headlong, rolling down the face of the rock. His closed eyes did not see anything; his hands were unable to grab hold of any thing to stop his fall. The young man rolled all the way down and landed on a heap of stones. But he was totally indifferent to his immediate fate. A strange torpor had overcome him: his entire body had gone completely out of control. Only his hearing, as earlier, remained unaffected.

Something heavy landed close to him with a thud. Was it Lida? Oh, if only he could open his eyes! But it was entirely beyond his power to do so. Artem could still hear the sounds and voices from the outside world and nothing more. Now it was the voice of Ivan Semenovich — what a man! he managed to remain vigorous and energetic, not forgetting about anyone, always ready to help…

“Dmitro Borisovich! Give me your hand! I’ll pull you up. Did the gas get in your lungs?”

“No, I’m O.K…. I’ll manage… You can choke on that gas… you’ve been down there far too long… what if you fall… what if you fall and Lida tumble down with you?”

“Lida’s already on the other side of the opening. Give me your hand, I tell you! Do you hear? I order you to give me your hand!”

A pause. Then — some rustling or swishing… incomprehensible sounds…

“Give me your hand, damn it, or I’ll come down to fetch you!”

“Just a second… I think Diana’s right by my feet here… I’ll lift her up.”

“You won’t have the strength!”

“I will… here, I’m holding her… now, take her from me! Oh! My camera! It’s gone! I’ve dropped it! I can’t find it in this gas… oh, where is it?”

“Come on, get out of there, quick! Climb up here, quick! Never mind your camera! Quick! See, the rocks up there seem to have moved again, they’re balanced precariously! They can come crashing down any moment!”

“I’ve lost my camera!… How careless I am! No, I absolutely must find it… maybe it’s…”

“Stop it and get up here, I tell you! On the double!”

“All right, all right!”

Another heavy thud… It must have been Diana landing on this side of the opening. But why couldn’t he hear the geologist’s voice any more? What about Dmitro Borisovich? Did they make it through? What was it that Ivan Semenovich had said about “the precariously balanced” rocks?