追风筝的人阿塞夫结局 残忍而美丽的情谊:The Kite Runner 追风筝的人(76)

残忍而美丽的情谊:The Kite Runner 追风筝的人(76)  

THERE WOULD BE NO TRUCK
Karim told us after we’d spent a week in the rat-infested basement. The truck was beyond repair.
“There is another option
” Karim said
his voice rising amid the groans. His cousin owned a fuel truck and had smuggled people with it a couple of times. He was here in Jalalabad and could probably fit us all.
Everyone except an elderly couple decided to go.
We left that night
Baba and I
Kamal and his father
the others. Karim and his cousin
a square-faced balding man named Aziz
helped us get into the fuel tank. One by one
we mounted the idling truck’s rear deck
climbed the rear access ladder
and slid down into the tank. I remember Baba climbed halfway up the ladder
hopped back down and fished the snuffbox from his pocket. He emptied the box and picked up a handful of dirt from the middle of the unpaved road. He kissed the dirt. Poured it into the box. Stowed the box in his breast pocket
next to his heart.
PANIC.
You open your mouth. Open it so wide your jaws creak. You order your lungs to draw air
NOW
you need air
need it NOW But your airways ignore you. They collapse
tighten
squeeze
and suddenly you’re breathing through a drinking straw. Your mouth closes and your lips purse and all you can manage is a strangled croak. Your hands wriggle and shake. Somewhere a dam has cracked open and a flood of cold sweat spills
drenches your body. You want to scream. You would if you could. But you have to breathe to scream.
Panic.
The basement had been dark. The fuel tank was pitch-black. I looked right
left
up
down
waved my hands before my eyes
didn’t see so much as a hint of movement. I blinked
blinked again. Nothing at all. The air wasn’t right
it was too thick
almost solid. Air wasn’t supposed to be solid. I wanted to reach out with my hands
crush the air into little pieces
stuff them down my windpipe. And the stench of gasoline. My eyes stung from the fumes
like someone had peeled my lids back and rubbed a lemon on them. My nose caught fire with each breath. You could die in a place like this
I thought. A scream was ing. Coming
ing...
And then a small miracle. Baba tugged at my sleeve and some thing glowed green in the dark. Light! Baba’s wrisatch. I kept my eyes glued to those fluorescent green hands. I was so afraid I’d lose them
I didn’t dare blink.
Slowly I became aware of my surroundings. I heard groans and muttered prayers. I heard a baby cry
its mother’s muted soothing. Someone retched. Someone else cursed the Shorawi. The truck bounced side to side
up and down. Heads banged against metal.
“Think of something good
” Baba said in my ear. “Something happy.”
Something good. Something happy. I let my mind wander. I let it e: