Chapter 26

　　The morning is perfect in memory, a late-summer day when blue skies foretold the coming autumn crispness. Speck and I had awakened next to each other in a sea of books, then left the library in those magically empty moments between parents going off to work, or children off to school, and the hour when stores and businesses opened their doors. By my stone calendar, five long and miserable years had passed since our diminished tribe took up our new home, and we had grown weary of the dark. Time away from the mine inevitably brightened Speck's mood, and that morning, when first I saw her peaceful face, I longed to tell her how she made my heart beat. But I never did. In that sense, the day seemed like every other, but it would become a day unto its own.
　　Overhead, a jet trailed a string of smoke, white against the paleness of September. "We matched strides and talked of our books. Shadows ahead appeared briefly between the trees, a slender breeze blew, and a few leaves tumbled from the heights. To me, it looked for an instant as if ahead on the path Kivi and Blomma were playing in a patch of sun. The mirage passed too quickly, but the trick of light brought to mind the mystery behind their departure, and I told Speck of my brief vision of our missing friends. I asked her if she ever wondered whether they really wanted to be caught.
　　Speck stopped at the edge of cover before the exposed land that led to the mine's entrance. The loose shale at her feet shifted and crunched. A pale moon sat in a cloudless sky, and we were wary of the climb, watching the air for a plane that might discover us. She grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around so quickly that I feared imminent peril. Her eyes locked on mine.
　　"You don't understand, Aniday. Kivi and Blomma could not take it another moment. They were desperate for the other side. To be with those who live in the light and upper world, real family, real friends. Don't you ever want to run away, go back into the world as somebody's child? Or come away with me?"
　　Her questions poured out like sugar from a split sack. The past had eased its claims on me, and my nightmares of that world had stopped. Not until I sat down to write this book did the memories return, dusted and polished new again. But that morning, my life was there. With her. I looked into her eyes, but she seemed far away in thought, as if she could not see me before her but only a distant space and time alive in her imagination. I had fallen in love with her. And that moment, the words came falling, and confession moved to my lips. "Speck, I have something—"
　　"Wait. Listen."
　　The noise surrounded us: a low rumble from inside the hill, zigzagging along the ground to where we two stood, vibrating beneath our feet, then fanning out into the forest. In the next instant, a crack and tumble, muffled by the outer surface. The earth collapsed upon itself with a sigh. She squeezed my hand and dragged me, running at top speed, toward the entrance of the mine. A plume of dirt swirled from the fissure like a chimney gently smoking on a winter's night. Up close, acrid dust thickened and choked off breathing. We tried to fight through it but had to wait upwind until the fog dissipated. From inside, a reedy sound escaped from the crack to fade in the air. Before the soot settled, the first person emerged. A single hand gripped the rim of rock, then the other, and the head pushed through, the body shouldering into the open. In the wan light, we ran through the cloud to the prostrate body. Speck turned it over with her foot: Béka. Onions soon followed, wheezing and panting, and lay down beside him, her arm roped over his chest.
　　Speck leaned down to ask, "Is he dead?"
　　"Cave-in," Onions whispered.
　　"Are there any survivors?"
　　"I don't know." She brushed back Béka's dirty hair, away from his blinking eyes.
　　We forced ourselves into the mine's darkness. Speck felt around for the flint, struck it, and sparked the torches. The firelight reflected particles floating in the air, settling like sediment stirred in a glass. I called out to the others, and my heart beat wildly with hope when a voice replied: "Over here, over here." As if moving through a snowy nightmare, we followed the sound down the main tunnel, turning left into the chamber where most of the clan slept each night. Luchóg stood at the entranceway, fine silt clinging to his hair, skin, and clothes. His eyes shone clear and moist, and on his face tears had left wet trails in the dirt. His fingers, red and raw, shook violently as he waited for us. Ashes floated in the halo created by the torchlight. I could make out the broad back of Smaolach, who was facing a pile of rubble where our sleeping room once stood. At a frantic pace, he tossed stones to the side, trying to move the mountain bit by bit. I saw no one else. We sprang to his aid, lifting debris from the mound that ran to the ceiling.
　　"What happened?" Speck asked.
　　"They're trapped," Luchóg said. "Smaolach thinks he heard voices on the other side. The roof came down all at once. We'd be under there, too, if I hadn't the need for a smoke when I woke up this morning."
　　"Onions and Béka are already out. We saw them outside," I said.
　　"Are you there?" Speck asked the rock. "Hold on, we'll get you out."
　　We dug until there appeared an opening big enough for Smaolach to stick his arm through to the elbow. Energized, we pounced, clawing away stones until Luchóg shinnied through the space and disappeared. The three of us stopped and waited for a sound for what seemed like forever. Finally Speck shouted into the void, "Do you see anything, mouse?"
　　"Dig," he called. "I can hear breathing."
　　Without a word, Speck left abruptly, and Smaolach and I continued to enlarge the passageway. We could hear Luchóg on the other side, scrabbling through the tunnel like a small creature in the walls of a house. Every few minutes, he would murmur reassurance to someone, then exhort us to keep burrowing, and we desperately worked harder, muscles enflamed, our throats caked with dust. As suddenly as she had disappeared, Speck returned, another torch in hand to throw more light upon our work. Her face taut with anger, she reached up and tore at the stone. "Béka, that bastard," she said. "They've gone. No help to anyone but himself."
　　After much digging, we made the hole wide enough for me to crawl through the rubble. I nearly landed on my face, but Luchóg broke my fall. "Down here," he said softly, and we crouched together over the supine figure. Half buried under the ruins lay Chavisory, still and cold to the touch. Covered by ash, she looked like a ghost and her breath smelled mortally sour.
　　"She's alive." Luchóg spoke in a whisper. "But barely, and I think her legs are broken. I can't move these heavy ones by myself." He looked stricken with fear and fatigue. "You'll have to help me."
　　Stone by stone, we unburied her. Straining under the weight of the last debris, I asked him, "Have you seen Ragno and Zanzara? Did they get out okay?"
　　"Not a trace." He motioned back toward our sleeping quarters, now buried under a ton of earth. The boys must have been sleeping in when the roof collapsed, and I prayed that they had not stirred and went from sleep to death as easily as turning over in their bed. But we could not stop to think of them. The possibility of another collapse urged us on. Chavisory moaned when we removed the last rock off her left ankle, a greenstick fracture, the bones and skin raw and pulpy. Her foot flopped at a sickening angle when we lifted her, and the blood left a viscous slick on our hands. She cried out with every step and lost consciousness as we struggled up to the tunnel, half pulling, half pushing her through. When he saw her leg, bone piercing the skin, Smaolach turned and threw up into the corner. As we rested there before the final push, Speck asked, "Is anyone else alive?"
　　"I don't think so," I said.
　　She closed her eyes for a moment, then issued orders for our quick escape. The most difficult part involved the exit of the mine itself, and Chavisory awoke and screamed as she was pinched through. At that moment, I wished we had all been inside, asleep next to one another, all of us buried for good and out of our own private miseries. Exhausted, we placed her down gently on the hillside. None of us knew what to do or say or think. Inside another implosion shuddered, and the mine puffed out one last gasp like a dying dragon.
　　Spent and confused by grief, we waited for nightfall. None of us thought that the collapse might have been heard by the people in town or that it might possibly draw the humans to investigate. Luchóg spotted the dot of light first, a small fire burning down by the treeline. With no hesitation or discussion, the four of us picked up Chavisory, our arms linked in a gurney, and headed toward the light. Although worried that the fire might belong to strangers, we decided it would be better, in the end, to find help. We moved cautiously over the shale, causing more pain for poor Chavisory, yet hopeful that the fire would give us a place to stay out of the creeping cold for the night, somewhere we might tend her wounds.
　　The wind creaked through the bones of the treetops and shook the upper branches like clacking fingers. The fire had been built by Béka. He offered no apologies or explanations, just grunted like an old bear at our questions before shuffling off to be alone. Onions and Speck crafted a splint for Chavisory s broken ankle, binding it up with Luchóg’s jacket, and they covered her with fallen leaves and lay next to her all night to share the warmth from their bodies. Smaolach wandered off and returned much later with a gourd filled with water. We sat and stared at the fire, brushing the caked dirt from our hair and clothing, waiting for the sun to rise. In those quiet hours, we mourned the dead. Ragno and Zanzara were as gone as Kivi and Blomma and Igel.
　　In place of the prior morning's brilliant glow, a gentle rain crawled in and settled. Only the occasional whistle from a lonesome bird marked the passing time. Around midday, a fierce yell of pain punctuated the stillness. Chavisory awoke to her ordeal and cursed the rock, the mine, Béka, and us all. We could not silence her anguished cries until Speck took her hand and willed her through steadfastness to be quiet. The rest of us looked away from her, stealing glances at one another's faces, masks of weariness and sorrow. We were now seven. I had to count twice to believe it.

    记忆中的那个早晨很美。夏末的一天，蔚蓝的天空昭示着金风送爽的秋天即将到来。斯帕克和我在书的海洋中相继醒来，离开图书馆，那段时间犹如施了魔法一般，人去楼空——父母上班，孩子上学，店铺尚未开门。根据我的石头日历，自从我们在新家定居后，五年漫长而凄凉的岁月已经过去了，我们人数减少，对黑暗渐生倦意。

　　离开矿井后，斯帕克无疑心情舒畅，那天早晨，我第一眼看到她平静的面容，就想对她说，她使我心跳不已。但我没告诉她。这么说来，那天看似和其他日子没有区别，却自有其意义。

　　头顶上空，一架喷气飞机在九月苍白的天空下拖出一条白色的尾烟。我们迈着大步，边走边谈论着我们的书。云影在树木间飞快地掠走，微风轻拂，几片树叶从高处飘落。我突然好像看见齐维和布鲁玛在前头的阳光下玩耍。幻像瞬间就消失了，但光影造成的错觉却让我想起她们那神秘的离去，我告诉斯帕克，我一瞬间看到了我们失踪的伙伴。我问她有没有想过，她们是不是真的想被捕。

　　斯帕克停在一个遮蔽物的边上，再往前就是通往矿井入口的空地。她脚下松动的页岩摇摇晃晃，一踩就往下陷。一轮白色的月亮挂在无云的天空，我们爬山时提高了警惕，观察着飞机排出的气体，看它是否会发现我们。她抓住我肩膀，猛地把我转过来，我还以为眼下就有危险了呢。她凝视着我。

　　“你不明白，安尼戴。齐维和布鲁玛她们是求之不得。她们向往着另一边。和那些在阳光下和地面上生活的人在一起，有真正的家庭，真正的朋友。你不是也想逃走吗，回到那个世界中，当某个人的孩子? 还是要和我一起走? ”

　　她的问题犹如一把糖从撕开口子的袋子里直撒出来。我对过去的感觉已渐渐平息，对那个世界的梦魇也已停止。直到我坐下来写这本书，那些记忆才又回来，涤除积尘，焕然一新。但那天早晨，我的生活在那里，与她在一起。我看着她的眼睛，但她似乎沉浸在思索中，仿佛看不到眼前的我，只有辽阔的时空存在于她的想像中。

　　我爱上了她。那一刻，这句话降临了，告白翕动着我的嘴唇。“斯帕克，我有话要……”

　　“等一下。听。”

　　我们周围鼓荡着噪音：一个低沉的隆隆声从山中传来，从大地上迂回到我们脚下，猛地爆发出来，又在森林中四面八方地传开去。下一刻，地底下发出压抑着的断折和翻腾声。大地叹息了一声，沉陷下去。她抓紧我的手，拖着我全速奔向矿井的方向。一股尘灰从裂缝间盘旋而出，犹如烟囱在冬夜里轻轻地吐烟。我们奔到近头，呛鼻的烟尘更加浓烈，差点透不过气来。我们想冲过去，但终于不得不在上风口等待烟尘散去。缝隙里边传来一个微弱的声音，在空气中慢慢消失。尘埃尚未落定，第一个人出来了。一只手抓着岩石边缘，然后又是一个，头伸出来了，身体也挤了出来。在暗弱的光线下，我们冲过尘灰，跑到那个倒伏的身体旁边。斯帕克用脚把他翻了过来：贝卡。随后出来的是奥尼恩斯，气喘吁吁地躺在他身边，手臂抱住他胸口。

　　斯帕克弯腰问她：“他死了吗? ”

　　“塌方了。”奥尼恩斯低声说。

　　“还有人活着吗? ”

　　“我不知道。”她把贝卡脏兮兮的头发拂开，他的眼睛在眨动。

　　我们好不容易走进漆黑一片的矿井里。斯帕克摸索到了打火石，打出了火花，点亮火炬。火光照亮了空气中飘浮的尘粒，就像玻璃杯中被搅起的沉淀物似的。我呼唤着其他人，这时一个声音回答道：“在这里，在这里。”我的心有了希望，猛烈地跳动起来。我们好像在风雪漫天的噩梦中行走，跟随这个声音走下主通道，向左转走进我们大多数人每晚睡觉的房间。鲁契克站在入口处，煤粉沾满头发、皮肤和衣服。他的双眼明亮湿润，泪水在脸上的尘灰上留下湿湿的印痕。他的手指通红，都擦伤了，等我们的时候，他双手颤抖得厉害。

　　火炬光照之下，飘浮的灰尘形成光晕。我看到斯茂拉赫魁梧的背影，他正对着一堆垃圾，那本来是我们睡觉的地方。他以疯狂的速度把石头扔到一边，想一点点把山搬开。我没有看到其他人。我们冲过去帮他忙，乱石堆一直堆到坑顶。

　　“出什么事了? ”斯帕克问。

　　“他们陷在里面了，”鲁契克说，“斯茂拉赫觉得听到另一头有声音。坑顶一下子塌了下来。要不是我早晨醒来后想要吸口烟，我们也在那里面了。”

　　“奥尼恩斯和贝卡已经出去了。我们看到他们在外面。”我说。

　　“你在那里吗? ”斯帕克对石头说道，“挺住，我们会把你弄出来。”

　　我们挖的洞口大小已经足够斯茂拉赫把小臂伸进去了。我们加大力气猛挖，奋力把石头扔开，鲁契克从通道中爬过去，消失了。我们三个停下来等待那头的动静，这等待简直无休无止。斯帕克终于对着空洞喊了起来：“你看到什么了吗，老鼠? ”

　　“挖，”他喊道，“我听到呼吸声了。”

　　斯帕克一言不发地突然离开了，斯茂拉赫和我继续加宽通道。

　　我们听见鲁契克在那头扒拉通道，就像一头小动物在屋子墙壁上拨拉一样。每隔几分钟，他就喃喃地安慰某人几句，然后催促我们继续挖掘。我们拼命干活，肌肉鼓足了劲头，喉咙里呛着灰尘。斯帕克去得快，来得也快，她又拿来一支火炬，好让我们干活时光线更加充足。

　　她脸上怒气腾腾，走过来搬石头。“贝卡，那个混账，”她说，“他们走了。

　　也不帮助其他人，只管他自己。”

　　我们挖了又挖，洞穴已经够我爬进去了。进去后，我差点仰面栽倒，鲁契克及时拉了我一把。“在这里。”他轻声说道，我们～起蹲在一个仰卧的身体边上。卡维素芮半个身子埋在废墟里，一动不动，手冰冷。她浑身是灰，像鬼一样，呼吸中有股要命的酸腐味。

　　“她还活着。”鲁契克低声说，“但也只差一口气了。我想她的腿断了。这几块大石头我一个人搬不动。”他的样子是又急又累，“你得来帮我。”

　　我们把她身上的石头一块块搬开。在搬最后一块碎石时，我边使劲边问他：

　　“你看到劳格诺和赞扎拉了吗? 他们安全出去了吗? ”

　　“一点消息也没有。”他朝后指了指我们睡觉的隔间，那里现在堆着上吨的泥土。坑顶塌下来时，男孩们肯定还睡在里面，我祈祷他们没有被惊醒，只是在睡梦中轻轻松松地死去了，就像在床上翻了个身。但我们不能不想他们。可能还会塌方，我们得加快速度。

　　我们把最后一块岩石从卡维素芮左脚上搬开时，她呻吟起来，青枝骨折（医学名词。指一种骨骼折而未断的情况．常见．于儿童。），骨头和皮肤淌着血，软绵绵的。我们抬起她时，她的脚搭下来转了个骇人的角度，鲜血黏糊糊地沾在我们手上。每走一步，她就大叫一声，我们挣扎到洞口，把她半推半拉地弄出去时，她已经昏过去了。斯茂拉赫一看到她的脚，骨头冒出在外面，背转身就在角落里呕吐起来。我们在那里歇了口气，再推最后一把，斯帕克问：“还有人活着吗? ”

　　“我想没有了。”我说。

　　她闭了一会眼睛，随后命令我们迅速撤离。最难的是走出矿井的入口，卡维素芮苏醒过来了，她挤出去时尖声嚎叫。那一刻，我真希望我们都在里面，大家并排睡着，全部埋在下面算了，每个人都脱离苦海了。我们精疲力竭地把她轻轻放在山坡上。没有人知道该做什么，说什么，又该想什么。里面又震颤起另一次爆裂，矿井就像一条垂死的龙，喷出最后一口气。

　　我们在悲痛下浑然不知所以，只等待着黑夜降临。没有人想到镇上居民或许会听到塌方，或许会派人来调查。鲁契克首先发现了光亮，树林边烧着一小堆火。我们四个也不商量，毫不犹豫地把手臂连成一个担架，抬起卡维素芮向火光走去。我们虽然担心这火或许是陌生人点的，但我们肯定过去寻求帮助总比不去的好。我们小心翼翼地走过页岩地带，可怜的卡维素芮痛得死去活来，我们只盼望那堆火能让我们度过寒气渐重的夜晚，有个地方可以给她治伤。

　　风吹得树顶枝丫吱吱作响，摇动着下面的枝条，像扳手指一样发出“喀嚓喀嚓”

　　的声音。火是贝卡点的。他既不道歉也不解释，我们质问他，他只是像头老熊一般咕哝几下，然后拖着脚步走开去独自待着。奥尼恩斯和斯帕克为卡维素芮折断的脚踝做了夹板，用鲁契克的夹克衫绑起来，把落叶盖在她身上，整个晚上躺在她身边，用体温温暖着她。斯茂拉赫走开了一阵，带回来一葫芦的水。我们坐着看着火堆，把头发和衣服上的灰拍掉，等待太阳升起。在那段寂静的时间里，我们为亡者哀悼。

　　劳格诺和赞扎拉走了，齐维、布鲁玛和伊格尔也走了。

　　次日早晨并没有灿烂的阳光，只有一场小雨缓缓飘洒。只有偶尔响起的一声孤独的鸟鸣提醒着时间正在过去。中午时分，一声惨痛的大喊穿透沉寂。卡维素芮醒来后疼痛不堪，咒骂着岩石、矿井、贝卡和我们所有人。我们无法使她痛苦的喊叫停下来，后来斯帕克握着她的手，劝服她渐渐平静下来。我们其他几个都别过头不去看她，瞥一眼别人的脸色，只见个个都是满脸的疲惫和悲伤。我们现在是七个了。

　　我数了两遍才敢相信。