Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur (бесплатные версии книг .txt) 📗

of it was too much for Johan Akkers.

The appearance of the aircraft dead in the centre of the road, bearing

down on him with the terrible spinning discs of the propellers was too

much for nerves already run raw and ragged.

He wrenched the wheel hard over, and the truck went into a broadside dry

skid.  It missed the port wing-tip of the Navajo as it went rocketing

off the narrow road.  The front wheels caught the drainage ditch and the

truck went over, cartwheeling twice in vicious slamming revolutions that

smashed the glass from her windows and burst the doors open.  The truck

ended on its side against one of the trees.

David shut the throttles and thrust his feet hard down on the wheel

brakes, bringing the Navajo up short.  .

Wait here, he shouted at Debra, and jumped down into the road.  His face

was a frozen mask of scar tissue, but His eyes were ablaze as he

sprinted back along the road towards the wreckage of the green truck.

Akkers saw him coming, and he dragged himself shakily to his feet.  He

had been thrown clear and now he staggered to the truck.  He could see

his rifle lying in the cab, and he tried to scramble up on to the body

to reach down through the open door.  Blood from a deep scratch in his

forehead was running into his eyes blinding him, he wiped it away with

the back of his hand and glanced around.

David was close, hurdling the irrigation ditch and running towards him.

Akkers scrambled down from the battered green body, and groped for the

hunting knife on his belt.  It was eight inches of Sheffield steel with

a bone handle, and it had been honed to a razor edge.

He hefted it under-handed, in the classical grip of the knife-fighter

and wiped the blood from his face with the palm of his free hand.

He was crouching slightly, facing David, and the haft of the knife was

completely covered by the huge bony fist.

David stopped short of him, his eyes fastened on the knife, and Akkers

began to laugh again.  It was a cracked falsetto giggle, the hysterical

laughter of a man driven to the very frontiers of sanity.

The point of the knife weaved in the slow mesmeric movement of an erect

cobra, and it caught the sunlight in bright points of light.  David

watched it, circling and crouching, steeling himself, summoning all the

training of paratrooper school, screwing up his nerve to go in against

the naked steel.

Akkers feinted swiftly, leaping in, and when David broke away, he let

out a fresh burst of high laughter.

Ago in they circled, Akkers mouthing his teeth loosely, sucking at them,

gigglin& watching with those muddy green eyes from their deep, close-set

sockets.

David moved back slowly ahead of him, and Akkers drove him back against

the body of the truck, cornering him there.

He came then, flashing like the charge of a wounded leopard.  His speed

and strength were shockin& and the knife hissed upwards for David's

belly.

David caught the knife hand at the wrist, blocking the thrust and

trapping the knife low down.  They were chest to chest now, face to

face, like lovers, and Akkersbreath stank of unwashed teeth.

They strained silently, shifting like dancers to balance each other's

heaves and thrusts.

David felt the knife hand twisting in his grip.  The man had hands and

arms like steel, he could not hold him much longer.  In seconds it would

be free, and the steel would be probing into his belly.

David braced his legs and twisted sideways.  The move caught Akkers

off-balance and he could not resist it.

David was able to get his other hand on to the knife arm, but even with

both hands he was hard put to hold on.

They swayed and shuffled together, panting, grunting, straining, until

they fell, still locked together, against the bonnet of the truck.  The

metal was hot and smelled of oil.

David was concentrating all his strength on the knife, but he felt

Akkers free hand groping for his throat.  He ducked his head down on his

shoulders, pressing his chin against his chest but the fingers were

steel hard and powerful as machinery.  They probed mercilessly into his

flesh, forcing his chin up, and settling on his throat, beginning to

squeeze the life out of him.

Desperately David hauled at the knife arm, and found it more manageable

now that Akkers was concentrating his strength on strangling him.

The open windscreen of the truck was beside David's shoulder, the glass

had been smashed out of it, but jagged shards of it still stood in the

metal rim, forming a crude but ferocious line of saw-teeth.

David felt the fingers digging deep into his throat, crushing the

gristle of his larynx and blocking off the arteries that fed his brain.

His vision starred and then began to fade darkly, as though he were

pulling eight G's in a dogfight.

With one last explosive effort David pulled the knife arm around on to

the line of broken glass, and he dragged it down, sawing it desperately

across the edge.

Akkers screamed and his strangling grip relaxed, back and forth David

sawed the arm, slashing and ripping through skin and fat and flesh,

opening a wound like a ragged-petalled rose, hacking down into the

nerves and arteries and sinews so that the knife dropped from the

lifeless fingers and Akkers screamed like a woman.

David broke from him and shoved him away.  Akkers fell to his knees

still screaming and David clutched at his own throat massaging the

bruised flesh, gasping for breath and feeling the flow of fresh blood to

his brain.

God Jesus, I'm dying.  I'm bleeding to death.  Oh sweet Jesus, help me!

screamed Akkers, holding the mutilated arm to his belly.  Help me, oh

God, don't let me die.

Save me, Jesus, save me!  Blood was streaming and spurting from the arm,

flooding the front of his trousers.  As he screamed his teeth fell from

his mouth, leaving it a dark and empty cave in the palely glistening

face.

You've killed me.  I'll bleed to death!  he screamed at David, thrusting

his face towards David.  You've got to save me, don't let me die.  David

pushed himself away from the truck and took two running steps towards

the kneeling man, then he swung his right leg and his whole body into a

flying kick that took Akkers cleanly under the chin and snapped his head

back.

He went over backwards and lay still and quiet, and David stood over

him, sobbing and gasping for breath.

For purposes of sentence Mr. justice Barnard of the Transvaal division

of the Supreme Court took into consideration four previous convictions,

two under the wildlife conservation act, one for aggravated assault, and

the fourth for assault with intent to do grievous bodily harm.

He found Johan Akkers guilty of twelve counts under the Wildlife

Conservation Act, but considered these as one when sentencing him to

three years at hard labour without option of a fine, and confiscation of

firearms and motor vehicles used in commission of these offences.

He found him guilty of one count of aggravated assault, and sentenced

him to three years at hard labour without option.

The prosecutor altered one charge from attempted murder to assault with

intent to do grievous bodily harm.  He was found guilty as charged on

this count, and the sentence was five years imprisonment without option.

On the final charge of murder he was found guilty and justice Barnard

said in open court; In considering sentence of death on this charge, I