Neatly3 and inconspicuously dressed, in this last quarter of the twentieth century his like was to be found on any street of the city ten floors below—to all outward appearances. But that other person under the protective coloring so assiduously cultivated could touch heights of encased and controlled fury which Murdock himself did not understand and was only just learning to use as a weapon against a world he had always found hostile.
He was aware, though he gave no sign of it, that a guard was watching him. The cop on duty was an old hand—he probably expected some reaction other than passive acceptance from the prisoner. But he was not going to get it. The law had Ross sewed up tight this time. Why didn't they get about the business of shipping4 him off? Why had he had that afternoon session with the skull5 thumper6? Ross had been on the defensive7 then, and he had not liked it. He had given to the other's questions all the attention his shrewd mind could muster8, but a faint, very faint, apprehension9 still clung to the memory of that meeting.
The door of the detention room opened. Ross did not turn his head, but the guard cleared his throat as if their hour of mutual10 silence had dried his vocal11 cords. "On your feet, Murdock! The judge wants to see you."
Ross rose smoothly12, with every muscle under fluid control. It never paid to talk back, to allow any sign of defiance13 to show. He would go through the motions as if he were a bad little boy who had realized his errors. It was a meek-and-mild act that had paid off more than once in Ross's checkered14 past. So he faced the man seated behind the desk in the other room with an uncertain, diffident smile, standing15 with boyish awkwardness, respectfully waiting for the other to speak first.
Judge Ord Rawle. It was his rotten luck to pull old Eagle Beak16 on his case. Well, he would simply have to take it when the old boy dished it out. Not that he had to remain stuck with it later....
"You have a bad record, young man."
Ross allowed his smile to fade; his shoulders slumped17. But under concealing18 lids his eyes showed an instant of cold defiance.
"Yes, sir," he agreed in a voice carefully cultivated to shake convincingly about the edges. Then suddenly all Ross's pleasure in the skill of his act was wiped away. Judge Rawle was not alone; that blasted skull thumper was sitting there, watching the prisoner with the same keenness he had shown the other day.
"A very bad record for the few years you have had to make it." Eagle Beak was staring at him, too, but without the same look of penetration19, luckily for Ross. "By rights, you should be turned over to the new Rehabilitation20 Service...."
Ross froze inside. That was the "treatment," icy rumors21 of which had spread throughout his particular world. For the second time since he had entered the room his self-confidence was jarred. Then he clung with a degree of hope to the phrasing of that last sentence.
"Instead, I have been authorized22 to offer you a choice, Murdock. One which I shall state—and on record—I do not in the least approve."
Ross's twinge of fear faded. If the judge didn't like it, there must be something in it to the advantage of Ross Murdock. He'd grab it for sure!
"There is a government project in need of volunteers. It seems that you have tested out as possible material for this assignment. If you sign for it, the law will consider the time spent on it as part of your sentence. Thus you may aid the country which you have heretofore disgraced——"
"And if I refuse, I go to this rehabilitation. Is that right, sir?"
"I certainly consider you a fit candidate for rehabilitation. Your record—" He shuffled23 through the papers on his desk.
"I choose to volunteer for the project, sir."
The judge snorted and pushed all the papers into a folder24. He spoke25 to a man waiting in the shadows. "Here then is your volunteer, Major."
Ross bottled in his relief. He was over the first hump. And since his luck had held so far, he might be about to win all the way....
The man Judge Rawle called "Major" moved into the light. At the first glance Ross, to his hidden annoyance26, found himself uneasy. To face up to Eagle Beak was all part of the game. But somehow he sensed one did not play such games with this man.
"Thank you, your honor. We will be on our way at once. This weather is not very promising27."
Before he realized what was happening, Ross found himself walking meekly28 to the door. He considered trying to give the major the slip when they left the building, losing himself in a storm-darkened city. But they did not take the elevator downstairs. Instead, they climbed two or three flights up the emergency stairs. And to his humiliation29 Ross found himself panting and slowing, while the other man, who must have been a good dozen years his senior, showed no signs of discomfort30.
They came out into the snow on the roof, and the major flashed a torch skyward, guiding in a dark shadow which touched down before them. A helicopter! For the first time Ross began to doubt the wisdom of his choice.
"On your way, Murdock!" The voice was impersonal32 enough, but that very impersonality33 got under one's skin.
Bundled into the machine between the silent major and an equally quiet pilot in uniform, Ross was lifted over the city, whose ways he knew as well as he knew the lines on his own palm, into the unknown he was already beginning to regard dubiously34. The lighted streets and buildings, their outlines softened35 by the soft wet snow, fell out of sight. Now they could mark the outer highways. Ross refused to ask any questions. He could take this silent treatment; he had taken a lot of tougher things in the past.
The patches of light disappeared, and the country opened out. The plane banked. Ross, with all the familiar landmarks36 of his world gone, could not have said if they were headed north or south. But moments later not even the thick curtain of snowflakes could blot37 out the pattern of red lights on the ground, and the helicopter settled down.
"Come on!"
For the second time Ross obeyed. He stood shivering, engulfed38 in a miniature blizzard39. His clothing, protection enough in the city, did little good against the push of the wind. A hand gripped his upper arm, and he was drawn40 forward to a low building. A door banged and Ross and his companion came into a region of light and very welcome heat.
"Sit down—over there!"
Too bewildered to resent orders, Ross sat. There were other men in the room. One, wearing a queer suit of padded clothing, a bulbous headgear hooked over his arm, was reading a paper. The major crossed to speak to him and after they conferred for a moment, the major beckoned41 Ross with a crooked42 finger. Ross trailed the officer into an inner room lined with lockers43.
From one of the lockers the major pulled a suit like the pilot's, and began to measure it against Ross. "All right," he snapped. "Climb into this! We haven't all night."
Ross climbed into the suit. As soon as he fastened the last zipper44 his companion jammed one of the domed45 helmets on his head. The pilot looked in the door. "We'd better scramble46, Kelgarries, or we may be grounded for the duration!"
They hurried back to the flying field. If the helicopter had been a surprising mode of travel, this new machine was something straight out of the future—a needle-slim ship poised47 on fins48, its sharp nose lifting vertically49 into the heavens. There was a scaffolding along one side, which the pilot scaled to enter the ship.
Unwillingly50, Ross climbed the same ladder and found that he must wedge himself in on his back, his knees hunched51 up almost under his chin. To make it worse, cramped53 as those quarters were, he had to share them with the major. A transparent54 hood55 snapped down and was secured, sealing them in.
During his short lifetime Ross had often been afraid, bitterly afraid. He had fought to toughen his mind and body against such fears. But what he experienced now was no ordinary fear; it was panic so strong that it made him feel sick. To be shut in this small place with the knowledge that he had no control over his immediate56 future brought him face to face with every terror he had ever known, all of them combined into one horrible whole.
How long does a nightmare last? A moment? An hour? Ross could not time his. But at last the weight of a giant hand clamped down on his chest, and he fought for breath until the world exploded about him.
He came back to consciousness slowly. For a second he thought he was blind. Then he began to sort out one shade of grayish light from another. Finally, Ross became aware that he no longer rested on his back, but was slumped in a seat. The world about him was wrung57 with a vibration58 that beat in turn through his body.
Ross Murdock had remained at liberty as long as he had because he was able to analyze59 a situation quickly. Seldom in the past five years had he been at a loss to deal with any challenging person or action. Now he was aware that he was on the defensive and was being kept there. He stared into the dark and thought hard and furiously. He was convinced that everything that was happening to him this day was designed with only one end in view—to shake his self-confidence and make him pliable60. Why?
Ross had an enduring belief in his own abilities and he also possessed61 a kind of shrewd understanding seldom granted to one so young. He knew that while Murdock was important to Murdock, he was none too important in the scheme of things as a whole. He had a record—a record so bad that Rawle might easily have thrown the book at him. But it differed in one important way from that of many of his fellows; until now he had been able to beat most of the raps. Ross believed this was largely because he had always worked alone and taken pains to plan a job in advance.
Why now had Ross Murdock become so important to someone that they would do all this to shake him? He was a volunteer—for what? To be a guinea pig for some bug62 they wanted to learn how to kill cheaply and easily? They'd been in a big hurry to push him off base. Using the silent treatment, this rushing around in planes, they were really working to keep him groggy63. So, all right, he'd give them a groggy boy all set up for their job, whatever it was. Only, was his act good enough to fool the major? Ross had a hunch52 that it might not be, and that really hurt.
It was deep night now. Either they had flown out of the path of the storm or were above it. There were stars shining through the cover of the cockpit, but no moon.
Ross's formal education was sketchy64, but in his own fashion he had acquired a range of knowledge which would have surprised many of the authorities who had had to deal with him. All the wealth of a big city library had been his to explore, and he had spent much time there, soaking up facts in many odd branches of learning. Facts were very useful things. On at least three occasions assorted65 scraps66 of knowledge had preserved Ross's freedom, once, perhaps his life.
Now he tried to fit together the scattered67 facts he knew about his present situation into some proper pattern. He was inside some new type of super-super atomjet, a machine so advanced in design that it would not have been used for anything that was not an important mission. Which meant that Ross Murdock had become necessary to someone, somewhere. Knowing that fact should give him a slight edge in the future, and he might well need such an edge. He'd just have to wait, play dumb, and use his eyes and ears.
At the rate they were shooting along they ought to be out of the country in a couple of hours. Didn't the Government have bases half over the world to keep the "cold peace"? Well, there was nothing for it. To be planted abroad someplace might interfere68 with plans for escape, but he'd handle that detail when he was forced to face it.
Then suddenly Ross was on his back once more, the giant hand digging into his chest and middle. This time there were no lights on the ground to guide them in. Ross had no intimation that they had reached their destination until they set down with a jar which snapped his teeth together.
The major wriggled69 out, and Ross was able to stretch his cramped body. But the other's hand was already on his shoulder, urging him along. Ross crawled free and clung dizzily to a ladderlike disembarking structure.
Below there were no lights, only an expanse of open snow. Men were moving across that blank area, gathering70 at the foot of the ladder. Ross was hungry and very tired. If the major wanted to play games, he hoped that such action could wait until the next morning.
In the meantime he must learn where "here" was. If he had a chance to run, he wanted to know the surrounding territory. But that hand was on his arm, drawing him along toward a door that stood half-open. As far as Ross could see, it led to the interior of a hillock of snow. Either the storm or men had done a very good cover-up job, and somehow Ross knew the camouflage71 was intentional72.
That was Ross's introduction to the base, and after his arrival his view of the installation was extremely limited. One day was spent in undergoing the most searching physical he had ever experienced. And after the doctors had poked73 and pried74 he was faced by a series of other tests no one bothered to explain. Thereafter he was introduced to solitary75, that is, confined to his own company in a cell-like room with a bunk76 that was more comfortable than it looked and an announcer in a corner of the ceiling. So far he had been told exactly nothing. And so far he had asked no questions, stubbornly keeping up his end of what he believed to be a tug77 of wills. At the moment, safely alone and lying flat on his bunk he eyed the announcer, a very dangerous young man and one who refused to yield an inch.
"Now hear this...." The voice transmitted through that grill78 was metallic79, but its rasp held overtones of Kelgarries' voice. Ross's lips tightened80. He had explored every inch of the walls and knew that there was no trace of the door which had admitted him. With only his bare hands to work with he could not break out, and his only clothes were the shirt, sturdy slacks, and a pair of soft-soled moccasins that they had given him.
"... to identify ..." droned the voice. Ross realized that he must have missed something, not that it mattered. He was almost determined81 not to play along any more.
There was a click, signifying that Kelgarries was through braying82. But the customary silence did not close in again. Instead, Ross heard a clear, sweet trilling which he vaguely83 associated with a bird. His acquaintance with all feathered life was limited to city sparrows and plump park pigeons, neither of which raised their voices in song, but surely those sounds were bird notes. Ross glanced from the mike in the ceiling to the opposite wall and what he saw there made him sit up, with the instant response of an alerted fighter.
For the wall was no longer there! Instead, there was a sharp slope of ground cutting down from peaks where the dark green of fir trees ran close to the snow line. Patches of snow clung to the earth in sheltered places, and the scent84 of those pines was in Ross's nostrils85, real as the wind touching86 him with its chill.
He shivered as a howl sounded loudly and echoed, bearing the age-old warning of a wolf pack, hungry and a-hunt. Ross had never heard that sound before, but his human heritage subconsciously87 recognized it for what it was—death on four feet. Similarly, he was able to identify the gray shadows slinking about the nearest trees, and his hands balled into fists as he looked wildly about him for some weapon.
The bunk was under him and three of the four walls of the room enclosed him like a cave. But one of those gray skulkers had raised its head and was looking directly at him, its reddish eyes alight. Ross ripped the top blanket off the bunk with a half-formed idea of snapping it at the animal when it sprang.
Stiff-legged, the beast advanced, a guttural growl88 sounding deep in its throat. To Ross the animal, larger than any dog he had even seen and twice as vicious, was a monster. He had the blanket ready before he realized that the wolf was not watching him after all, and that its attention was focused on a point out of his line of vision.
The wolfs muzzle89 wrinkled in a snarl90, revealing long yellow-white teeth. There was a singing twang, and the animal leaped into the air, fell back, and rolled on the ground, biting despairingly at a shaft91 protruding92 from just behind its ribs93. It howled again, and blood broke from its mouth.
Ross was beyond surprise now. He pulled himself together and got up, to walk steadily94 toward the dying wolf. And he wasn't in the least amazed when his outstretched hands flattened95 against an unseen barrier. Slowly, he swept his hands right and left, sure that he was touching the wall of his cell. Yet his eyes told him he was on a mountain side, and every sight, sound, and smell was making it real to him.
Puzzled, he thought a moment and then, finding an explanation that satisfied him, he nodded once and went back to sit at ease on his bunk. This must be some superior form of TV that included odors, the illusion of wind, and other fancy touches to make it more vivid. The total effect was so convincing that Ross had to keep reminding himself that it was all just a picture.
The wolf was dead. Its pack mates had fled into the brush, but since the picture remained, Ross decided96 that the show was not yet over. He could still hear a click of sound, and he waited for the next bit of action. But the reason for his viewing it still eluded97 him.
A man came into view, crossing before Ross. He stooped to examine the dead wolf, catching98 it by the tail and hoisting99 its hindquarters off the ground. Comparing the beast's size with the hunter's, Ross saw that he had not been wrong in his estimation of the animal's unusually large dimensions. The man shouted over his shoulder, his words distinct enough, but unintelligible100 to Ross.
The stranger was oddly dressed—too lightly dressed if one judged the climate by the frequent snow patches and the biting cold. A strip of coarse cloth, extending from his armpit to about four inches above the knee, was wound about his body and pulled in at the waist by a belt. The belt, far more ornate than the cumbersome101 wrapping, was made of many small chains linking metal plates and supported a long dagger102 which hung straight in front. The man also wore a round blue cloak, now swept back on his shoulders to free his bare arms, which was fastened by a large pin under his chin. His footgear, which extended above his calves103, was made of animal hide, still bearing patches of shaggy hair. His face was beardless, though a shadowy line along his chin suggested that he had not shaved that particular day. A fur cap concealed104 most of his dark-brown hair.
Was he an Indian? No, for although his skin was tanned, it was as fair as Ross's under that weathering. And his clothing did not resemble any Indian apparel Ross had ever seen. Yet, in spite of his primitive105 trappings, the man had such an aura of authority, of self-confidence, and competence106 that it was clear he was top dog in his own section of the world.
Soon another man, dressed much like the first, but with a rust-brown cloak, came along, pulling behind him two very reluctant donkeys, whose eyes rolled fearfully at sight of the dead wolf. Both animals wore packs lashed31 on their backs by ropes of twisted hide. Then another man came along, with another brace107 of donkeys. Finally, a fourth man, wearing skins for covering and with a mat of beard on his cheeks and chin, appeared. His uncovered head, a bush of uncombed flaxen hair, shone whitish as he knelt beside the dead beast, a knife with a dull-gray blade in his hand, and set to work skinning the wolf with appreciable108 skill. Three more pairs of donkeys, all heavily laden109, were led past the scene before he finished his task. Finally, he rolled the bloody110 skin into a bundle and gave the flayed111 body a kick before he ran lightly after the disappearing train of pack animals.
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1
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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detention
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| n.滞留，停留；拘留，扣留；(教育)留下 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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shipping
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| n.船运（发货，运输，乘船） | |
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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thumper
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| n.击键声检测器；轰鸣器 | |
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defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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apprehension
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| n.理解，领悟；逮捕，拘捕；忧虑 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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vocal
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| adj.直言不讳的；嗓音的；n.[pl.]声乐节目 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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checkered
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| adj.有方格图案的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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concealing
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，遮住( conceal的现在分词 ) | |
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penetration
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| n.穿透，穿人，渗透 | |
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rehabilitation
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| n.康复，悔过自新，修复，复兴，复职，复位 | |
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rumors
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| n.传闻( rumor的名词复数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷v.传闻( rumor的第三人称单数 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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authorized
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| a.委任的，许可的 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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folder
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| n.纸夹，文件夹 | |
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spoke
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| 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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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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impersonality
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| n.无人情味 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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landmarks
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| n.陆标( landmark的名词复数 )；目标；（标志重要阶段的）里程碑 ~ (in sth)；有历史意义的建筑物（或遗址） | |
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blot
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| vt.弄脏（用吸墨纸）吸干；n.污点，污渍 | |
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engulfed
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| v.吞没，包住( engulf的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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lockers
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| n.寄物柜( locker的名词复数 ) | |
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44
zipper
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| n.拉链；v.拉上拉链 | |
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45
domed
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| adj. 圆屋顶的, 半球形的, 拱曲的 动词dome的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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46
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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vertically
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| adv.垂直地 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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51
hunched
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| （常指因寒冷、生病或愁苦）耸肩弓身的，伏首前倾的 | |
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52
hunch
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| n.预感，直觉 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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58
vibration
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| n.颤动，振动；摆动 | |
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analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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pliable
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| adj.易受影响的；易弯的；柔顺的，易驾驭的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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groggy
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| adj.体弱的；不稳的 | |
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sketchy
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| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
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assorted
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| adj.各种各样的，各色俱备的 | |
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66
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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70
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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camouflage
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| n./v.掩饰，伪装 | |
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intentional
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| adj.故意的，有意（识）的 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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pried
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| v.打听，刺探（他人的私事）( pry的过去式和过去分词 )；撬开 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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grill
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| n.烤架，铁格子，烤肉；v.烧，烤，严加盘问 | |
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metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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82
braying
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| v.发出驴叫似的声音( bray的现在分词 )；发嘟嘟声；粗声粗气地讲话（或大笑）；猛击 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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nostrils
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| 鼻孔( nostril的名词复数 ) | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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subconsciously
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| ad.下意识地，潜意识地 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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eluded
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| v.（尤指机敏地）避开( elude的过去式和过去分词 )；逃避；躲避；使达不到 | |
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98
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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99
hoisting
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| 起重，提升 | |
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100
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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101
cumbersome
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| adj.笨重的，不便携带的 | |
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102
dagger
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| n.匕首，短剑，剑号 | |
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103
calves
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| 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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104
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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105
primitive
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| adj.原始的；简单的；n.原(始)人，原始事物 | |
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106
competence
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| n.能力，胜任，称职 | |
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107
brace
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| 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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108
appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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109
laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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bloody
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| adj.非常的的；流血的；残忍的；adv.很；vt.血染 | |
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111
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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