"VIRGE!"
The dark form recoiled1 against the wall as Robert Neville's hoarse2 cry ripped open the silent blackness.
He jerked his body up from the couch and stared with sleep-clouded eyes across the room, his chest pulsing with heartbeats like maniac3 fists on a dungeon4 wall.
He lurched up to his feet, brain still foggy with sleep; unable to define time or place.
"Virge?" he said again, weakly, shakily. "Virge?"
"It—it's me," the faltering5 voice said in the darkness. He took a trembling step toward the thin stream of light spearing through the open peephole. He blinked dully at the light.
She gasped6 as he put his hand out and clutched her shoulder.
"It's Ruth. Ruth," she said in a terrified whisper. He stood there rocking slowly in the darkness, eyes gazing without comprehension at the dark form before him.
"It's Ruth," she said again, more loudly. Waking came like a hose blast of numbing7 shock. Something twisted cold knots into his chest and stomach. It wasn't Virge. He shook his head suddenly, rubbed shaking fingers across his eyes.
Then he stood there staring, weighted beneath a sudden depression.
"Oh," he muttered faintly. "Oh, I..."
He remained there, feeling his body weaving slowly in the dark as the mists cleared from his brain.
He looked at the open peephole, then back at her.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice still thick with sleep.
"Nothing," she said nervously8. "I ... couldn't sleep."
He blinked his eyes suddenly at the flaring9 lamplight. Then his hands dropped down from the lamp switch and he turned around. She was against the wall still, blinking at the light, her hands at her sides drawn10 into tight fists.
"Why are you dressed?" he asked in a surprised voice. Her throat moved and she stared at him. He rubbed his eyes again and pushed back the long hair from his temples.
"I was . .. just looking out," she said.
"But why are you dressed?"
"I couldn't sleep."
He stood looking at her, still a little groggy11, feeling his heartbeat slowly diminish. Through the open peephole he heard them yelling outside, and he heard Cortman shout, "Come out, Neville!" Moving to the peephole, he pushed the small wooden door shut and turned to her.
"I want to know why you're dressed," he said again.
"No reason," she said.
"Were you going to leave while I was asleep?"
``No, I . .
"Were you?"
She gasped as he grabbed her wrist.
"No, no," she said quickly. "How could I, with them out there?"
He stood breathing heavily, looking at her frightened face. His throat moved slowly as he remembered the shock of waking up and thinking that she was Virge.
Abruptly12 he dropped her arm and turned away. And he'd thought the past was dead. How long did it take for a past to die?
She said nothing as he poured a tumblerful of whisky and swallowed it convulsively. Virge, Virge, he thought miserably13, still with me. He closed his eyes and jammed his teeth together.
"Was that her name?" he heard Ruth ask. His muscles tightened14, then went slack.
"It's all right," he said in a dead voice. "Go to bed."
She drew back a little. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean..."
Suddenly he knew he didn't want her to go to bed. He wanted her to stay with him. He didn't know why, he just didn't want to be alone.
"I thought you were my wife," he heard himself saying. "I woke up and I thought—"
He drank a mouthful of whisky, coughing as part of it went down the wrong way. Ruth stayed in the shadows, listening.
"She came back, you see," he said. "I buried her, but one night she came back. She looked like—like you did. An outline, a shadow. Dead. But she came back. I tried to keep her with me. I tried, but she wasn't the same any more ... you see. All she wanted was—"
He forced down the sob15 in his throat.
"My own wife," he said in a trembling voice, "coming back to drink my blood!"
He jammed down the glass on the bar top. Turning away, he paced restlessly to the peephole, turned, and went back and stood again before the bar. Ruth said nothing; she just stood in the darkness, listening.
"I put her away again," he said. "I had to do the same thing to her I'd done to the others. My own wife." There was a clicking in his throat. "A stake," he said in a terrible voice. "I had to put a stake in her. It was the only thing I knew to do. I—"
He couldn't finish. He stood there a long time, shivering helplessly, his eyes tightly shut.
"Almost three years ago I did that. And I still remember it, it's still with me. What can you do? What can you do?" He drove a fist down on the bar top as the anguish17 of memory swept over him again. "No matter how you try, you can't forget or—or adjust or—ever get away from it!"
He ran shaking fingers through his hair.
"I know what you feel, I know. I didn't at first, I didn't trust you. I was safe, secure in my little shell. Now ..." He shook his head slowly, defeatedly. "In a second, it's all gone. Adjustment, security, peace—all gone."
"Robert."
Her voice was as broken and lost as his.
"Why were we punished like this?" she asked.
He drew in a shuddering18 breath.
"I don't know," he answered bitterly. "There's no answer, no reason. It just is."
She was close to him now. And suddenly, without hesitation19 or drawing back, he drew her against him, and they were two people holding each other tightly in the lost measure of night.
"Robert, Robert."
Her hands rubbed over his back, stroking and clutching, while his arms held her firmly and he pressed his eyes shut against her warm, soft hair.
Their mouths held together for a long time and her arms gripped with desperate tightness around his neck.
Then they were sitting in the darkness, pressing close together, as if all the heat in the world were in their bodies and they would share the warmth between them. He felt the shuddering rise and fall of her breasts as she held close to him, her arms tight around his body, her face against his neck. His big hands moved roughly through her hair, stroking and feeling the silky strands20.
"I'm sorry, Ruth."
"Sorry?"
"For being so cruel to you, for not trusting you."
She was silent, holding tight.
"Oh, Robert," she said then, "it's so unfair. So unfair. Why are we still alive? Why aren't we all dead? It would be better if we were all dead."
"Shhh, shhh," he said, feeling emotion for her like a released current pouring from his heart and mind. "It'll be all right."
He felt her shaking her head slowly against him.
"It will, it will," he said.
"How can it?"
"It will," he said, even though he knew he really couldn't believe it, even though he knew it was only released tension forming words in his mind.
"No," she said. "No."
"Yes, it will. It will, Ruth."
He didn't know how long it was they sat there holding each other close. He forgot everything, time and place; it was just the two of them together, needing each other, survivors21 of a black terror embracing because they had found each other.
But then he wanted to do something for her, to help her.
"Come," he said. "We'll check you."
"No, no," he said quickly. "Don't be afraid. I'm sure we won't find anything. But if we do, I'll cure you. I swear I'll cure you, Ruth."
She was looking at him in the darkness, not saying a word. He stood and pulled her up with him, trembling with an excitement he hadn't felt in endless years. He wanted to cure her, to help her.
"Let me," he said. "I won't hurt you. I promise I won't. Let's know.. Let's find out for sure. Then we can plan and work. I'll save you, Ruth. I will. Or I'll die myself."
She was still tense, holding back.
"Come with me, Ruth."
Now that the strength of his reserve had gone, there was nothing left to brace23 himself on, and he was shaking like a palsied man.
He led her into the bedroom. And when he saw in the lamplight how frightened she was, he pulled her close and stroked her hair.
"It's all right," he said. "All right, Ruth. No matter what we find, it'll be all right. Don't you understand?"
He sat her down on the stool and her face was completely blank, her body shuddering as he heated the needle over a Bunsen flame.
He bent24 over and kissed her on the cheek.
"It's all right now," he said gently. "It's all right."
She closed her eyes as he jabbed in the needle. He could feel the pain in his own finger as he pressed out blood and rubbed it on the slide.
"There. There," he said anxiously, pressing a little cotton to the nick on her finger. He felt himself trembling helplessly. No matter how he tried to control it, he couldn't. His fingers were almost incapable25 of making the slide, and he kept looking at Ruth and smiling at her, trying to take the look of taut26 fright from her features.
"Don't be afraid," he said. "Please don't. I'll cure you if you're infected. I will Ruth, I will."
She sat without a word, looking at him with listless eyes as he worked. Her hands kept stirring restlessly in her lap.
"What will you do if—if I am," she said then.
"I'm not sure," he said. "Not yet. But there are a lot of things we can do."
"What?"
"You said vaccines didn't work," she said, her voice shaking a little.
"Yes, but . . ." He broke off as he slid the glass slide onto the microscope.
"Robert, what could you do?"
She slid off the stool as he bent over the microscope.
"Robert, don't look!" she begged suddenly, her voice pleading.
But he'd already seen.
He didn't realize that his breath had stopped. His blank eyes met hers.
"Ruth," he whispered in a shocked voice.
The wooden mallet28 crashed down on his forehead.
A burst of pain filled Robert Neville's head and he felt one leg give way. As he fell to one side he knocked over the microscope. His right knee hit the floor and he looked up in dazed bewilderment at her fright-twisted face. The mallet came down again and he cried out in pain. He fell to both knees and his palms struck the floor as he toppled forward. A hundred miles away he heard her gasping29 sob.
"I told you not to!" she cried.
He clutched out at her legs and she drove the mallet down a third time, this time on the back of his skull31.
"Ruth!"
Robert Neville's hands went limp and slid off her calves32, rubbing away part of the tan. He fell on his face and his fingers drew in convulsively as night filled his brain.
1 recoiled | |
v.畏缩( recoil的过去式和过去分词 );退缩;报应;返回 | |
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2 hoarse | |
adj.嘶哑的,沙哑的 | |
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3 maniac | |
n.精神癫狂的人;疯子 | |
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4 dungeon | |
n.地牢,土牢 | |
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5 faltering | |
犹豫的,支吾的,蹒跚的 | |
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6 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
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7 numbing | |
adj.使麻木的,使失去感觉的v.使麻木,使麻痹( numb的现在分词 ) | |
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8 nervously | |
adv.神情激动地,不安地 | |
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9 flaring | |
a.火焰摇曳的,过份艳丽的 | |
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10 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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11 groggy | |
adj.体弱的;不稳的 | |
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12 abruptly | |
adv.突然地,出其不意地 | |
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13 miserably | |
adv.痛苦地;悲惨地;糟糕地;极度地 | |
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14 tightened | |
收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)变紧; (使)绷紧; 加紧 | |
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15 sob | |
n.空间轨道的轰炸机;呜咽,哭泣 | |
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16 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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17 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
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18 shuddering | |
v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 );发抖;(机器、车辆等)突然震动;颤动 | |
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19 hesitation | |
n.犹豫,踌躇 | |
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20 strands | |
n.(线、绳、金属线、毛发等的)股( strand的名词复数 );缕;海洋、湖或河的)岸;(观点、计划、故事等的)部份v.使滞留,使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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21 survivors | |
幸存者,残存者,生还者( survivor的名词复数 ) | |
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22 stiffened | |
加强的 | |
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23 brace | |
n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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24 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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25 incapable | |
adj.无能力的,不能做某事的 | |
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26 taut | |
adj.拉紧的,绷紧的,紧张的 | |
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27 vaccines | |
疫苗,痘苗( vaccine的名词复数 ) | |
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28 mallet | |
n.槌棒 | |
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29 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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30 mumbled | |
含糊地说某事,叽咕,咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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31 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
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32 calves | |
n.(calf的复数)笨拙的男子,腓;腿肚子( calf的名词复数 );牛犊;腓;小腿肚v.生小牛( calve的第三人称单数 );(冰川)崩解;生(小牛等),产(犊);使(冰川)崩解 | |
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