Elephant Song - Smith Wilbur (книги бесплатно без онлайн txt) 📗

Its jaws were open to their full gape, and its extended front paws reached for his shoulders.  As it smashed into him, chest cocked up in the instinctive disembowel to chest, its back legs ling movement and its head shot forward to sink its fangs into his face and throat.  This was the classic leopard attack and Daniel countered with the screwdriver held sideways between both his hands, thrusting it like a curb bit into the leopard's open mouth.

One of the beast's front fangs broke off cleanly at the gum as it struck steel, and then Daniel.  was on his back holding the leopard off his face with the screwdriver.  It snarled again and a hot mist of spittle blew into his face, the stink of carrion and death filled his nostrils.

He felt one forepaw stretch out over his shoulder, reaching out to the back of his scalp to rip it off his skull.  At the same time the back legs jack-knifed up, claws fully extended to tear out the front of his belly.  However, the back of Daniel's head was pressed up hard against one of the fish sacks and the leopard hooked its claws, not into the thin flesh of his scalp, but into the coarse jute of the sack only an inch from his ear.  Then the cat slashed down with both back legs together, but instead of unzipping his belly, the claws bit into the tough nylon belt of the bag at his stomach.

For a moment the animal's attack was stalled.  It ripped at the jute sack, seeming not to realize its error, and the back legs kicked downward spasmodically, tearing the nylon with a sharp rending sound.

As it struggled, the leopard pulled back its head, trying to avoid the steel shaft that Daniel was still forcing deeply between its open jaws.

Instantly Daniel whipped the screwdriver back, releasing his grip on the sharpened end and then drove it forward again, aiming the point at one of the leopard's eyes.

His aim was wild, the point of the screwdriver shot into the cat's flaring nostril, but instead of finding the nasal channel into the brain, it deflected slightly, penetrated the gristle of the nose, and ran along the outside of the cheekbone below the dappled skin.  The point emerged from beneath the leopard's ear, and the cat screamed with the shock and agony.  For a moment it relaxed its attack.  Daniel rolled over, and threw the leopard off him.

It seemed a miracle that up to now the leopard had not drawn blood, but as Daniel threw it backwards, the cat held on instinctively with one paw.

The claws raked down Daniel's arm, slicing through the leather and wool and reaching the muscle of his forearm.  It felt like a sword cut, and the pain goaded Daniel to throw in his last desperate reserve of strength.

He kicked out with both feet together, and his heels crashed into the feline body just as it gathered itself for the next charge.

The kick drove it backwards in a snarling, snapping ball of dark fur that gleaned and rippled in the torchlight.

There was a space between the fish sacks at Daniel's back, it was just wide enough to admit his body.  He flung himself backwards into the narrow cave.  Now his back and flanks were protected, and the leopard could only attack from directly in front.

It thrust its head, growling and gaping into the narrow space, trying to reach him.  Daniel stabbed for its eyes with the screwdriver.  Again he missed, but the steel point lacerated the leopard's curling pink tongue, and it leaped backwards, hissing and spitting with pain.  Go on!  Get out of id he howled, more to bolster his own courage than with any hope of driving off the infuriated beast.

He drew his legs up under him and worked his way as far as he could into the narrow gap between the fish sacks.

The leopard paced back and forth across the entrance, blotting out the feeble torchlight with each pass.  Once it stopped and sat on its haunches, wiping its wounded nose with one paw, like a domestic cat, and then licking its own blood from the fur.

Then it bounded forward, blocking the entrance to the narrow cave, and stretched in one forepaw to try and reach Daniel again.  He stabbed at the groping limb and felt it hit and penetrate.  The leopard spat explosively and pulled back.  It began to patrol the entrance to his cave, pausing every few minutes to lower its head and let out one of those terrible sawing roars.

Daniel felt the blood sliming down his forearm under the sleeve and dripping from his fingers.  He held the screwdriver between his knees, ready to fend off the next attack, and then, one-handed, bound his handkerchief around the torn arm to stem the bleeding.  He pulled the knot tight with his teeth.  The wound seemed superficial.  The leather sleeve had saved him from serious injury, but the arm was already beginning to throb.  Daniel knew how truly dangerous even the lightest scratch from a carnivore's teeth or claws could be, if untreated.

That was only one of his worries.  The leopard had him trapped and soon it would be morning.  It was a wonder that the roars of the animal had not yet attracted attention.  He could expect a guard to arrive at any moment.

As he thought it, the warehouse was suddenly flooded with light.  It was so brilliant that the leopard recoiled on to its haunches and blinked in confusion.  Daniel heard the faint rumble as the main doors rolled open, driven by their electric motor.  It was followed immediately by the sound of a motor car coming in through the opening.

The leopard snarled and slunk back towards the rear of the warehouse, carrying its head low and looking back over its shoulder.

Then, somebody shouted, Hey, Nandi!  Back to your cage!

Back!  Back!  Daniel recognised Chetti Singh's voice.

The leopard broke into a crouching run, and disappeared from Daniel's sight.

Chetti Singh spoke again.  Lock the leopard in the cage quickly!  and there was the metallic clang of a cage door being slammed.  Can you see the white man?  Be careful, he may still be alive.  Daniel shrank back as far as he could into the narrow opening between the sacks.  He had no real hope of avoiding detection, and the screwdriver was not much of a weapon.  There is a torch lying over there, still burning.  And over there, by the fish sacks.  That looks like blood.

Cautious footsteps approached.  Nandi has done her work.  Give me the torch.

The voices were closer.

Suddenly a pair of legs came into Daniel's view and then the man stooped and flashed the torch into the dark crack where Daniel squatted.  My goodness!  the same voice said in English.  Here the fellow is, and he is still in excellent fettle.  How do you do, Doctor Armstrong?  I am delighted to make your formal acquaintance at last.

Daniel glared silently into the dazzling torch-beam and Chetti Singh went on in a jocular tone.  You won't be needing that weapon, never mind.  Please be good enough to hand it over.

Daniel made no move to obey and Chetti Singh chuckled.  This is a shotgun of fine English construction, dear sir, made by Mr.  Purcley, no less.  It is loaded with bullshot cartridges.

The Malawi police are very understanding on the little matter of defending self.  I beg you most humbly to entertain my request for cooperation.  With resignation Daniel tossed the screwdriver at his feet, and Chetti Singh kicked it away.  You may now emerge from your kennel, Doctor.  Daniel crawled out, and holding his injured arm to his chest, rose to his feet.

Chetti Singh pointed the shotgun at his belly and spoke to the uniformed guard in Angoni.  Chawe, check the cases.  See if the malungu has opened any of them.  Daniel recognised the black guard from the supermarket. He was a big dangerous-looking brute.  I prefer the leopard for a sparring partner, Daniel thought wryly as he watched the Angoni stride away down the ramp towards the fork-lift.