فصل 46

توضیح مختصر

  • زمان مطالعه 0 دقیقه
  • سطح خیلی سخت

دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»

این فصل را می‌توانید به بهترین شکل و با امکانات عالی در اپلیکیشن «زیبوک» بخوانید

دانلود اپلیکیشن «زیبوک»

فایل صوتی

برای دسترسی به این محتوا بایستی اپلیکیشن زبانشناس را نصب کنید.

متن انگلیسی فصل

CHAPTER 46

ONE LIGHT AND ONE DARK

GRANDFATHER! CAN YOU HEAR ME?” Wendy bent over Leonard Aster’s gaunt, gray, apparently lifeless face. Peter, standing next to Wendy, was shocked to see this frail old man in place of the strong and courageous Starcatcher leader he once knew.

“Grandfather, please, wake up!” said Wendy.

“It’s no use, child,” said Mrs. Bumbrake softly. She stood in the doorway, dabbing at her eyes. “He’s been like this for days.”

From downstairs, they heard pounding on the big front door, and muffled shouts.

Neville appeared in the doorway, panting from hurrying up the stairs.

“I’ve locked all the doors,” he said. “The police are trying to get in.”

The pounding got louder.

“Sooner or later they’ll break down the door,” said Neville.

“Or come through a window,” said Peter.

“We’ve got to move Grandfather,” said Wendy.

“How will we get him out?” said Peter.

“Through the back door,” said Wendy.

“They’ll be waiting for us back there,” said Peter.

“What we need,” said Uncle Neville, “is a diversion.”

“A what?” said Peter.

“Mrs. Bumbrake,” said Uncle Neville, “do you have any flour?”

“Any what?” said Mrs. Bumbrake.

“Flour,” said Uncle Neville. “The kind you bake with.”

“There’s a sack in the kitchen, downstairs,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “But why …”

“What about candles?” said Uncle Neville.

“Also in the kitchen,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “But…”

“No time to explain!” said Uncle Neville. To Wendy and Peter, he said, “Bring Leonard down to the rear door.” Then he was gone. As he left, Tink zoomed into the room.

Bad man, she chimed to Peter.

“I know,” he said. “The police.”

Not the police, she chimed. A very bad man.

Peter wanted to ask more, but Wendy was tugging his arm.

“We’ll have to carry Grandfather,” said Wendy.

“No,” said Mrs. Bumbrake. “He’s too weak!”

A crashing sound echoed through the house.

“We have to try!” said Wendy, slipping an arm under Leonard’s shoulders. “Take hold of his legs.” As Peter and Mrs. Bumbrake stepped forward, Leonard moaned.

“He’s waking up!” said Mrs. Bumbrake. Leonard’s eyes fluttered open, focused on Wendy, then Peter and Tink, then back on Wendy. The faintest of smiles formed on his lips, and in a voice so weak they could barely hear it, he said, “You found him.”

“Yes, Grandfather,” said Wendy, tears welling in her eyes. “I found him.”

They wouldn’t be here without me, chimed Tink.

“Yes, of course,” whispered Leonard, who was the only human being other than Peter who understood Tink. “Thank you, Tinker Bell.” He reached a thin, bony hand toward Peter. “We need your help,” he said. “Don’t let them …” He coughed, then with effort regained his breath. “The Cache. Confess …” He coughed again, unable to stop this time, his body curling up in pain.

Another crash downstairs, louder than before. Footsteps on the stairs. John appeared in the doorway, breathless.

“Uncle Neville says you must come down to the kitchen right now!” he shouted, then turned and ran back downstairs.

Wendy leaned over her grandfather and said, “Grandfather, the police are here.”

His eyes widened. “No,” he whispered. “You must go.” There was another crash, and the sound of wood splintering.

“Lo…Lock …” said Leonard, his trembling hands reaching under the neck of his nightgown. Wendy saw a bit of fine gold chain in his fingers.

“He’s got a locket!” she said. She helped her grandfather pull the locket out from under the nightgown. It was identical to the locket her mother had given her. “It’s starstuff!” she cried.

“Use it,” gasped Leonard. “Now. Get away.” His shaking hands fumbled with the clasp.

“Here, let me,” said Wendy, taking the locket in her hands. She undid the clasp. A glowing sphere of light surrounded her hands, and everyone in the room—despite the peril of the situation—felt a sense of exhilaration and well-being.

“Are you going to use it?” said Peter.

“No,” said Wendy firmly. “Grandfather is.”

Hearing this, Leonard reached his hand out to stop Wendy, but he was too late. With a flick of her wrist she overturned the locket. Instantly the room blazed with brightness as a shower of brilliant light poured onto the old man’s face and chest. Wendy, Peter, and Mrs. Bumbrake turned away, closing their eyes, hearing strange and wonderful music in the air. It was ten seconds before they were able to reopen their eyes, and when they did, Leonard was no longer in the bed; instead he stood before them in his nightgown. He was as gaunt as ever, but his once-pale skin now glowed with ruddy health, and his eyes were clear and alert.

“That starstuff wasn’t for me,” he told Wendy. “That was for you.”

“We’re not leaving you here,” she said.

“I appreciate that, Wendy, but my time is done, and you must…”

He was cut off by a resounding crash downstairs, and the sound of splintering wood.

“Maybe we should argue about this later,” said Peter.

“All right,” said Leonard, once again in command. “Let’s go.” He started for the door, stopped, and said “Just a moment.” He went to his massive oak wardrobe, opened it, and pulled out a sword. He brandished it, his eyes shining.

“Now we’re ready,” he said. “Like old times, eh, Peter?”

“Yes, sir!” said Peter.

“Come on, then,” said Leonard, moving quickly out the door, followed by the other three. At the bottom of the stairs they stopped to look toward the front door. As they did, it shuddered with a loud crash and the men outside heaved against it.

“It won’t hold much longer,” said Leonard. “Tink, go outside and have a look at the back door. We’ll meet you down in the kitchen.”

Yes, sir, chimed Tink, streaking to the main fireplace and up the chimney.

Leonard shepherded Mrs. Bumbrake, Wendy, and Peter onto the kitchen stairs. He followed them, stopping on the top step to push a heavy door closed, then lock it.

“I had this door installed long ago, when I thought I might need to barricade the family in the basement,” he said. “Never needed it until now. It’s stronger than the front door. They won’t get through it any time soon.”

There was a thunderous crash from the other side of the door, and the sound of shouting and heavy shoes tromping on the wooden floors.

“They’re in the house,” said Leonard. “We’d best get down to the kitchen.”

In the kitchen they found John and Michael with Uncle Neville, who had set a large cloth sack of flour in the middle of the floor.

“Hello, Leonard,” said Neville. “You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, Neville,” said Leonard. “Nice to see you. Why have you put a flour sack on the floor?”

“To make a bomb,” said Neville.

“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Bumbrake.

“Uncle Neville’s gonna splode the kitchen!” said Michael.

“It’s explode, you ninny,” said John.

“That’s what I said,” said Michael.

There was pounding on the door at the top of the kitchen stairs.

“What do you mean, a bomb?” said Leonard.

“Flour particles,” said Neville. “If you get enough of them suspended in the air, then introduce a flame”—he waved an unlit candle and a box of matches—“you get quite a dramatic explosion. I’ve done some experiments on my estate. Lost a building, in fact. Fortunately, no one was in it at the time.”

“Oh dear,” repeated Mrs. Bumbrake.

The pounding on the stairway door intensified.

“So your plan is to set off the explosion here?” said Leonard, peering down at the flour sack.

“Precisely,” said Neville. “We tromp on the flour, like so.” He brought his right foot down on the flour sack, which blew out a cloud of flour directly onto Leonard, covering him head to toe in white.

“Sorry!” said Neville.

“Quite all right,” said Leonard, brushing at the flour ineffectively. “Go on.”

“Yes,” said Neville. “By tramping on the sack, we fill the air with flour particles. Then we nip into the pantry over there and toss a lighted candle into the kitchen. This will cause an explosion. In the ensuing confusion, we make our escape!”

Neville looked around the room, pleased with his plan. The others were less enthusiastic.

“I’m not sure,” said Wendy, “exactly how …”

She stopped as Tink zoomed in through the kitchen-fireplace chimney, chiming excitedly.

“Interesting,” said Leonard.

“What is it?” said Wendy.

“The policemen,” said Peter. “There’s only three upstairs, pounding on the door.” He pointed toward the stairway, which echoed with the sound of continual pounding. “The rest are all waiting outside the back door.” He pointed toward the hallway that led to the back door.

“Why aren’t they trying to get in by the back door, then?” said Wendy.

“It’s a trap,” said Leonard. “They want us to run out the back door, into their clutches.”

“Should we try to go upstairs?” said Wendy.

“There are three men that way,” said Leonard. “We might be able to fight our way through, but …” He trailed off, looking at Mrs. Bumbrake and the two boys.

“So what do we do?” said Wendy.

“We open the back door,” said Leonard.

“We do?” said Peter.

“We do,” said Leonard, with a small smile. “Now, listen closely.” It took him several minutes to explain the plan. The others listened in silence, except for Mrs. Bumbrake, who said “Oh dear” four times.

When Leonard was done, he dragged the flour sack into the hallway next to the back door, then stomped on it until the air was thick with flour dust. He was now totally, completely white. He returned to the kitchen, tucked his sword under his arm, and took the candle and matches from Neville. The pounding from the stairway door continued unabated.

“All right,” he said. “Go to your positions.”

Mrs. Bumbrake, Neville, John, and Michael headed for the pantry. Wendy and Peter, with Tink inside Peter’s shirt, started for the stairway. Leonard put out a white hand, stopping them.

“When you get out of here,” he said, “go straight to a hotel in Sloane Square called the Scotland Landing.”

“But you’ll be with us!” said Wendy.

Leonard put his hand on her shoulder. “I shall try,” he said. “But this starstuff is going to wear off, and when it does, I shall be as bad off as I was before. Worse, in fact.”

“But…”

“No, Wendy,” said Leonard. “I’ve had my time. This is your time. Don’t fail us.” Leonard’s voice was breaking. “Don’t fail the Starcatchers,” he said. He pushed Wendy gently toward the stairway, then turned away, toward the flour-filled hall. Wendy was about to call out to him; there was so much more she needed to know. But it was too late. Leonard was opening the box of matches.

The policemen out back—seven large, tough men—were growing impatient.

“Why don’t we just break the door down?” said one. Several others murmured agreement.

“Our orders are to wait here,” said another man. He lowered his voice and tilted his head. “Does anybody want to tell him that we’re going to disobey orders?”

All seven man looked toward the corner of the house, where they could just make out the dark shape of a man in a hooded cloak, standing where he could see both the street and the rear entrance to the Aster mansion. None of the bobbies wanted anything to do with the cloaked man. They would follow their orders. They turned back toward the door.

Ten seconds passed. Twenty.

Then the night erupted.

The earsplitting blast blew the rear door off its hinges so hard that it shattered against the garden wall fifty feet away, exploding into burning shards. A huge tongue of flame came right behind it, blasting across the lawn, turning a wide swath of it black.

Fortunately for them, none of the bobbies was directly in front of the door when it blew, although all of them were thrown violently backward and onto the ground. It was several seconds before they were able to get to their feet. They stared, ears ringing, at the gaping, smoking hole where the door had been, trying to understand what had happened.

It was then that they saw the ghost.

When the flour bomb went off, Peter and Wendy, as Leonard had instructed them, were kneeling at the top of the stairway, facing the door with their eyes closed and their hands clamped tightly over their ears. After the explosion, they waited a few seconds, then opened their eyes to see that the stairway was thick with dust and smoke. They stood up, coughing. The pounding on the door had stopped, but now it resumed, more frantic than before.

“Ready?” said Peter.

“Ready,” said Wendy.

Peter pulled Tink out from under his shirt.

“All right,” he said.

Tink flew halfway down the smoke-filled stairway and hovered there. Wendy went down and stood next to her. Peter stepped to the side of the stairway, pressing himself against the wall.

“Don’t forget to close your eyes,” he said.

“I won’t,” said Wendy.

Peter unlocked the door and turned the handle. It was several seconds before the pounding men on the other side realized it was unlocked.

“It’s open!” shouted a voice.

The door was pushed open. Peter was now concealed behind it. A bobby stepped onto the stairs, followed by two more.

“There’s the girl!” shouted the first, spotting Wendy in the smoke. All three men started toward her. She closed her eyes, and as she did, Tinker Bell flashed her brightest light, filling the stairway with a blinding glare. The instant it was gone, Wendy opened her eyes and grabbed Tink, who was so weak from her effort that she could barely fly. Wendy turned and ran to the bottom of the stairs, where Mrs. Bumbrake, Neville, John, and Michael were waiting. Wendy made it to the bottom and jumped out of the way just as the three bobbies, yelping in pain and fear, tumbled after her. Peter had shoved the first from behind; he had taken the other two down, like bowling pins. They sprawled onto the floor, moaning and still temporarily blind, unaware of the group of people now quickly climbing the stairs.

“Hurry!” whispered Peter, as they reached the top. “This way.” He led them toward the smashed front door, and out into the night.

Four of the seven bobbies in the back simply ran from the ghost. They had already been terrified by the explosion; the sudden appearance of a bizarre white figure flying over them—flying—and waving a sword was more than they could stand. They ran to the rear gate, opened it, and took off into Hyde Park.

The other three bobbies tried to do battle with the ghost, but they had no chance. It swooped and darted above them, back and forth, easily evading their clumsy efforts to hit it with their nightsticks while skillfully slashing at them with its sword. In less than a minute they, too, were running into the park to escape the flying fiend.

The little group stopped by an oak a few dozen yards from the Aster mansion, in an area dimly lit by one of the street-lamps on Kensington Palace Gardens.

“Is she okay?” said Peter.

“I think so,” said Wendy, handing Tink to Peter. Tink’s eyes were closed, but she was glowing. He held her for a moment, nodded, then gently put her into his shirt. “We need to get away from here,” he said.

“To where?” said Neville.

“Lord Aster said we should go to a hotel near Sloane Square,” said Peter.

“I believe that would be…that way,” said Neville, pointing down the street. As he did, the clang of a fire-truck bell came from the other direction.

“We’d better get going,” said Peter.

Wendy hesitated, looking back toward the house. “What about Grandfather?” she said.

“I’ll go back and see,” said Peter.

“I’ll go with you,” said Wendy.

“No,” said Peter, with a firmness that surprised even himself. “He’s just done everything he could so that you could escape. All that would be for nothing if you got caught now.”

Wendy nodded reluctantly. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’ll fly over the house and see,” said Peter.

Then he heard a soft, urgent chime from Tink.

And then he screamed in pain. Without knowing how he got there, he realized he was on his knees. The awful pain had receded from his body, but it had left him too weak to stand. He was aware that Wendy had screamed, and that Michael and John were crying. He felt something on his neck, something rough and repellant, and he knew that whatever it was had caused the pain, and might cause it again. He desperately hoped it would not. He would do anything—anything—to keep from feeling that pain again.

He turned his head as much as he dared. A man in a black cloak stood next to him. He had apparently come from the shadows by the tree. Peter hadn’t heard him approach.

“Don’t move, unless you want to feel that again,” said the Skeleton, his voice a harsh rasp, his words distorted.

“Let him go!” said Wendy. The Skeleton turned toward her, and suddenly she saw his face by the dim streetlight. She screamed again.

“Here now!” said Neville, stepping toward the Skeleton. “Let the boy…unnh.”

The Skeleton’s movement was so quick that nobody actually saw it. He merely reached out and touched Neville’s forearm, then withdrew his hand. But the touch sent an agonizing shock up Neville’s arm into his shoulder. He stumbled away, groaning, toward Mrs. Bumbrake, who was staring in horror at the Skeleton as she clutched the whimpering John and Michael to her.

From the ground, Peter whispered urgently, “Get away! All of you! Run!”

The others hesitated, not wanting to spend another second near the Skeleton but not wanting to leave Peter.

The Skeleton broke the silence. “If you run away, any of you, this boy will feel a pain so unbearable that it will never leave him, however long he lives. Something far worse than this.” His gnarled stump of a hand moved slightly on the back of Peter’s neck. Peter collapsed to the ground, unable to scream or even breathe, his entire body jerking in agony.

“Shall I proceed?” said the Skeleton, reaching his stump down toward Peter.

“No,” whispered Wendy. “Please.” As she spoke, something in the sky behind the Skeleton caught her eye—a white figure, soaring over the house.

Like an angel, she thought.

The Skeleton saw Wendy’s reaction, and turned to see what had caused it. He whirled as Leonard Aster, still covered head to toe in flour, landed ten feet in front of him, sword in hand. He started carefully toward the Skeleton. The Skeleton shifted a bit to his right, angling his body sideways.

“Don’t let him—” began Wendy, but before she could get the warning out, the Skeleton, cat-quick, had lunged toward Leonard, his claw of a hand darting out. Leonard, with starstuff-heightened senses, saw it coming. He vaulted into the air, just avoiding the Skeleton’s touch as he thrust out his sword to force the Skeleton backward.

Leonard landed a few feet away, putting himself between the Skeleton and the others. “Wendy,” he said over his shoulder. “Help Peter up and get away. Go where I told you. Do it now.”

“But—”

“Now!” There was a note of desperation in Leonard’s voice, and Wendy suddenly understood why: the starstuff was wearing off. She went to Peter, who was still on the ground, moaning. With Neville’s help, she got him to his feet. Draping his arms over their shoulders, they started down the street as quickly as they could manage, trailed by Mrs. Bumbrake and the two boys. Behind them, the sound of the fire-truck bells grew louder. After they had gone about fifty yards Wendy glanced back. Flames were erupting from the roof of the Aster mansion. By the light of the fire, Wendy could see two shapes near the big oak, one light and one dark, circling each other, each looking for an advantage.

She turned back, hurrying with Peter down the dark street, away from the horror behind them. She clung to the hope that her grandfather would somehow prevail, that she would see him again. She tried not to think about how weak he had been without the starstuff.

They were almost to the end of the street. Ahead were the lights of Kensington Road.

From somewhere behind her, Wendy heard a scream.

مشارکت کنندگان در این صفحه

تا کنون فردی در بازسازی این صفحه مشارکت نداشته است.

🖊 شما نیز می‌توانید برای مشارکت در ترجمه‌ی این صفحه یا اصلاح متن انگلیسی، به این لینک مراجعه بفرمایید.