Chapter 62 Section 61

"Give me the lighter!" D'Agosta yelled.Smithback stumbled backward in the darkness, instinctively shielding his eyes as the ember stone burst into sparks. "Oh, my God—" he heard D'Agosta moan.Smithback felt someone grab his shoulders, drag him to his feet, and he struggled. "Smithback, listen to me," D'Agosta's voice hissed in his ears, "don't let me lose the chain at this time. I need you to help me keep this group of people in check." Smithback retched and forced himself to open his eyes.The dirt floor ahead was full of bones, big and small, broken into pieces, and cartilage still attached to the joints.

"Not a dry branch," Smithback murmured over and over again, "no, no, not a dry branch." The fire flickered, and D'Agosta would save his use. The yellow flames came on again, and Smithback looked around.What he had just kicked away was the remains of a dog, a hound in appearance, with glassy eyes, light-colored hair, and two rows of small brown teats lining a ripped belly.There were also quite a few corpses littered on the ground, including cats and dogs, some who had been dead for too long or had been injured beyond recognition.Someone behind him was screaming. The flames went out and came back on ahead, and D'Agosta was already moving forward. "Smithback, come with me," he said, "Others, look straight ahead, let's go." Smithbacker took the first step slowly, lowering his head, narrowly avoiding the nausea out of the corner of his eye. thing.He turned his head to the wall on the right.

There used to be a water or ventilation pipe at shoulder height along the wall, but it had crumbled away years ago, and the broken remains were half buried in the assorted rubbish on the ground.The metal brackets supporting the pipes are still riveted to the wall, sticking out like antlers.The brackets are full of human corpses, swaying slightly in the dim light of the fire.Smithback noted that all the bodies lacked heads, but did not immediately grasp what this meant.On the ground at the foot of the wall, there were some objects that were so damaged that they couldn't see their shape. He knew that they must be human heads.

The bodies farthest from him were the oldest, and seemed to have more bones than flesh.He turned his head away, but at the last moment his brain recognized to his horror the fact that on the fleshy wrist of the closest corpse was a watch in the shape of a corona.Moriarty's watch. "Oh, dear...oh, dear," repeated Smithback, "poor George." "You know him?" D'Agosta asked sullenly. "Damn it, it's hot!" The lighter flickered out again, and Smithback stopped immediately. "What is this place?" someone cried behind him. "I don't know at all." D'Agosta murmured.

"I know," said Smithback blankly, "the meathouse." The lighter came on again, and he walked again, faster this time.Smithback heard the mayor behind him urging the crowd to leave in a mechanical, rigid voice. The fire suddenly flickered out, and the reporter dared not move. "We're at the wall," he heard D'Agosta say in the dark. "One passage goes up and the other goes down. Let's go up." D'Agosta grabbed the lighter again and moved on, followed by Smithback.It didn't take long for the rancid smell to dissipate, and the ground under his feet was wet and soft.Smithback felt—or perhaps imagined—the slightest cold breeze against his cheek.

D'Agosta laughed: "My God, it feels so good." The feet became more and more wet, and the tunnel was suddenly interrupted in front, and another vertical ladder appeared.D'Agosta walked over and held up the lighter to light it.Smithback pushed forward hopefully, smelling the fresh breeze.Suddenly there was the sound of splashing water and two bangs from above, and bright lights quickly passed by, followed by a gust of dirty water pouring down. "A maintenance shaft!" D'Agosta yelled. "We're out, unbelievable, we're fucking out!" Using both hands and feet, he climbed up the vertical ladder and tried his best to push the round manhole cover.

"Fixed," he muttered, "twenty men can't hold it up. Help!" He climbed up, put his mouth on the peephole, and shouted, "Anybody? Help!" He started laughing , lying on the metal vertical ladder, throwing away the lighter.Smithback collapsed on the passage floor, crying and laughing uncontrollably. "We did it," D'Agosta said, laughing, "Smithback! We did it! Kiss me, Smithbacker—I love you, fucking dog reporter, bless you on this one Make a million dollars." Smithback heard voices in the street above. "Did you hear someone yelling?"

"Hey, up there!" D'Agosta called. "Want to make money?" "Did you hear that? There's someone down there. Hey!" "Did you hear that? Get us out!" "How much?" asked another voice. "Twenty! Call the fire department and get us out!" "Fifty bucks, buddy, or we're leaving." D'Agosta couldn't stop laughing: "Fifty is fifty! Get us out!" He turned and spread his arms. "Smithback, get everyone over here. Friends, Mayor Harper, welcome back to New York City!" There was another click on the door.Garcia wept silently, pressing the butt of his gun to his face.The monster is trying to get in again.He took a deep breath and steadied the shotgun.

He suddenly realized that the clicking sound was actually someone knocking on the door. There was another knock on the door, louder this time, and Garcia heard a muffled voice. "anyone there?" "Who?" Garcia replied in a muffled voice. "Pendergast, Special Agent, FBI." Garcia couldn't believe his ears.He opened the door and saw a tall, thin man looking at him calmly. The light-colored eyes and hair of the comer seemed to be a ghost in the dark corridor. He held a flashlight in one hand and a huge gun in the other. A pistol, one cheek was dripping with blood, and the shirt was stained with a black liquid in random Rorschach ink patterns.Beside him stood a shorter young woman with taupe hair and a yellow miner's cap, with black stains all over her face, hair, and sweater.

Pendergast finally smiled.He said flatly: "We did it." Seeing this smile, Garcia realized that the blood on the two of them did not come from themselves. "What—" he stammered. The two pushed past him into the room.A few others stood in a line under the schematic diagram of the museum, immobilized in horror and doubt. Pointing to a chair with a flashlight, Pendergast said, "Miss Green, please sit down." "Thanks," Margo replied, bouncing the miner's lamp up and down, "very gentlemanly." Pendergast also sat down and asked, "Does anyone have a handkerchief?"

Allen took out a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to him. Pendergast handed the handkerchief to Margo, who wiped the blood off her face and returned it to Pendergast.Pendergast wiped his face and hands carefully: "With all due respect, you are—" "Alan. Tom Allen." "Mr. Allen." Pendergast returned the blood-soaked handkerchief to Allen. Allen was about to put the handkerchief back into his pocket when he suddenly stopped and threw it on the ground.He stared at Pendergast and asked, "Is it dead?" "Yes, Mr. Allen. Very dead." "You killed it?" "We killed it. Or rather, this Miss Green killed it." "Call me Margot. But it was you who shot, Agent Pendergast." "Aha, but, Margot, you told me where to shoot. I hadn't thought of that at all. All big game, whether it's a lion, a buffalo, or an elephant, have their eyes on the sides of their head. They're looking When you're charging, you never think about the eyes because that's an impossible target." "But this monster," Margot explained to Alan, "has a mammalian face. The eyes are moved forward for stereoscopic vision, and the eye sockets lead right into the brain. Its skull is terribly thick, so the bullet enters the brain It just bounces around until it runs out of momentum." "You killed the monster with one shot in the eye?" Garcia was astonished. "Several other shots," replied Pendergast, "but it was too strong, and too angry. I haven't looked at the monster yet—I'll tell when I'm interested—but the other shots It may not be possible to stop it in time." Pendergast adjusted the tie knot with two slender fingers.Margo thought: He is very particular about his grooming, because his white shirt is covered with blood and gray things.For the rest of her life, the image of the monster's brain bursting out of its eye socket was both terrifying and beautiful.In fact, it was those angry, terrible eyes that gave Margo a sudden flash of inspiration in her desperation, when she staggered back, trying to escape the stench of putrefaction and the tone of the slaughterhouse. She suddenly hugged herself tightly and began to tremble. Pendergast motioned for Garcia to take off his uniform jacket and put it over Margo's shoulders. "Calm down, Margo," he said, kneeling beside her, "it's all over." "We've got to go to Dr. Flock." She mumbled the words through purple lips. "Right away, right away." Pendergast comforted her. "Should I report outside?" Garcia asked. "The power of the walkie-talkie is only enough for one call." "Okay, I'll have to send a rescue team to Lieutenant D'Agosta," Pendergast said, then frowned. "Looks like I have to deal with Kofi." "Probably not," Garcia said. "The chain of command has obviously been adjusted." Pendergast raised his eyebrows: "Really?" "Really." Garcia handed the walkie-talkie to Pendergast. "An agent named Slade said that he is in charge now. This glorious task is entrusted to you." "Thanks for the compliment," Pendergast said. "It's a good thing it wasn't Special Agent Coffey. Otherwise, I'm afraid I'd have to blame him. I'm a man who responds sharply to insults." He shook his head." It’s a bad habit, but you just can’t get rid of it.”