"Smart bird," Ray murmurs, running through the churning, spiraling fog.
"Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!" comes the three-note piping, up through the darkness and the mist; the sound wends through the terrified squawking and screaming of the penguins, which by now even Ray understands. Dyer seems almost to hesitate for a moment, but Ray calls out to him, "Keep running! It's not an Old One! Just keep running and don't stop!"
"How- what-" Dyer can't manage the breath to ask the full question. Not and keep running, anyway- and fortunately, running is winning. Doubtless he thinks he'll ask Ray later, but there's no chance of any of them slowing now. But they've come to the great cavern of many openings, and the piping noise is drawing closer, and the blind penguins are running all about them like mad, calling on the Great Guin in their heedless terror.
"South Station Under - Washington Under - Park Street Under-Kendall - Central - Harvard - " That's Danforth, chanting off the names of the stations of the Boston-Cambridge tunnel in a half-hypnotized singsong. It's the only thing he can hold onto now, poor fellow. At this rate he's going to go to pieces, and they have no chance at all if he goes down the wrong tunnel from here in his heedless flight. Ray can see it, and so can Dyer.
Ray stops dead, and turns to face the advancing mist.
"What are you doing, man?" cries Dyer. Ray glances over his shoulder.
"Holding it off," he says. "I hope. Professor, get Danforth out of here. If I don't make it back, Pabodie can have my things. Whatever you do, now or on the planes out, don't look back."
There's something greenly luminescent on the far side of the mist; but here, now, amidst the funk of forty million years and the screaming of multiple species, a swift snap-hiss lights up the fog with the cleanest green fire this place has ever seen. And as Dyer reluctantly grabs Danforth by the shoulder and forces the student to run, words Ray hasn't been able to say all the way through to their end make themselves heard:
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2007-11-04 01:22 am (UTC)"Tekeli-li! Tekeli-li!" comes the three-note piping, up through the darkness and the mist; the sound wends through the terrified squawking and screaming of the penguins, which by now even Ray understands. Dyer seems almost to hesitate for a moment, but Ray calls out to him, "Keep running! It's not an Old One! Just keep running and don't stop!"
"How- what-" Dyer can't manage the breath to ask the full question. Not and keep running, anyway- and fortunately, running is winning. Doubtless he thinks he'll ask Ray later, but there's no chance of any of them slowing now. But they've come to the great cavern of many openings, and the piping noise is drawing closer, and the blind penguins are running all about them like mad, calling on the Great Guin in their heedless terror.
"South Station Under - Washington Under - Park Street Under-Kendall - Central - Harvard - " That's Danforth, chanting off the names of the stations of the Boston-Cambridge tunnel in a half-hypnotized singsong. It's the only thing he can hold onto now, poor fellow. At this rate he's going to go to pieces, and they have no chance at all if he goes down the wrong tunnel from here in his heedless flight. Ray can see it, and so can Dyer.
Ray stops dead, and turns to face the advancing mist.
"What are you doing, man?" cries Dyer. Ray glances over his shoulder.
"Holding it off," he says. "I hope. Professor, get Danforth out of here. If I don't make it back, Pabodie can have my things. Whatever you do, now or on the planes out, don't look back."
There's something greenly luminescent on the far side of the mist; but here, now, amidst the funk of forty million years and the screaming of multiple species, a swift snap-hiss lights up the fog with the cleanest green fire this place has ever seen. And as Dyer reluctantly grabs Danforth by the shoulder and forces the student to run, words Ray hasn't been able to say all the way through to their end make themselves heard:
"I will not fear. Fear is the mind-killer..."