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THE BLAST289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9VdLUQp7iS
289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRzm8700DJE
Robinson was the one who put the last shovelful of earth on Thatcher's grave. He didn't want to do it but Kimoto had stood aside, looking at him, and since he did not want to make more of this than it meant he decided simply to do it. It was the only service he could give the man. The dirt fell crosswise, sifting downward, all of the earth mixing. Robinson reached into his pouch, removed a small amount of dark powder, and sprinkled it over the grave, and then he stepped back, looking away. He had done all that he could. There was no more.
Eucher watched this intensity. Standing about ten yards from the huddle of laborers, playing with his gun, he looked at Robinson and said, "Don't you want to say a few words?"
Robinson looked back at the man and said nothing.
"You're a priest," the guard said. "We know that much." His eyes had a challenging look. "That's a good thing, being a priest."
Robinson shrugged. He still would say nothing. The guard wanted one response which he was not going to get. He would not be baited. Thatcher, he was sure, would understand.
"We've got a man knocking at the gates here," the guard said. "Help him out. Give him a little hand upwards." He gestured towards the grave.
"That's it?" Eucher asked, as Robinson still didn't respond. "Are you going to leave him with a little dirt sprinkled over his grave? Even a dead Apache gets a better break than that." The guard winked and then his face became more set. "Say something," he said and swung his shotgun directly at Robinson.
"You bother me, hill," Eucher was saying. "You bother me a lot. I got the feeling you think that you're better than the rest of them."
"He is," Kimoto said quietly. "He is better than we are. Please leave him alone."
"Better than the rest of you? Are you, hill? Maybe you don't feel the cold like the others here and maybe you're able to lay ties around the clock. But let me show you one thing," the guard said and now the direction of the gun was obvious; the man's arm had leveled behind it and Robinson saw at that moment just what he intended to do, "you sure as hell can bleed like the rest of them. I'll show you. I'll show you that."
Robinson stood there. He could not move. The guard was well beyond hand range; he could not strike out at him without giving him an excuse for the shot he was preparing himself to make. Any motion, even away, would trigger the guard. The guard was working himself apparently into a killing position. Slowly he stepped towards Robinson, still not closing sufficient ground for reach, and then dropped the gun slowly toward Robinson's belly.
And then the mountains blew up!289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡOfBwQtH5Ym
Downrange half a mile the mountains to the east of them were falling apart. The dull roar of the blast had caught them first but at this distance vision was moving far ahead of sound and Robinson could see what was going on. Another dull, pounding roar, then a sequence of them, and the mountains were falling, fracturing into parts, dust swirling from them, dust sweeping through the air, propelled by the force of the explosion, already beginning to swirl around them. Someone in the group of laborers let out a great cry of rage and pain. Looking away from the guard, Robinson could see who it was: it was Hoga, the Okinawan. He was screaming at the sky. "The tunnel!" he was saying, "the tunnel through the mountain filled with gas! The engineer warned them and now how many of our people are dead! Dead!" Hoga lifted his fists towards the sky and screamed soundlessly then, overcome.
It must have been this, the great soundless shriek as against the blast itself which caused the guard to panic. As Robinson's gaze went back to him the guard had already yanked his gun down as if in defeat and had turned, was in a full, stumbling run away from the gravesite towards the camp. Those who kill, Robinson thought, those who measure lives cheaply do so because they value their own too much. He looked at Kimoto whose attention was riveted towards the mountains and then the choking dust was all around them; they were coughing, wheezing, gasping in the dust.
"Many of our men are dead there," Kimoto said to Robinson. "We must go to bury them."
Hoga had found his voice again. He was weeping. But he and all of the others followed Kimoto and Robinson out into the mountains.289Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNKnvxMRbbd
