man, his face a pale blob in the gloom of the canyon, and a moment later
he recognized him with a stab of hatred through the chest.
"Helm!the exclaimed."Jake Helm."
He had an image of Tamre, the epileptic boy, crushed beneath the
rockfalls and of Tessay's burned and battered face. His outrage and
hatred surged. Instead of steering the log away from the scaffold, he
reversed his thrust and swung in towards the cliff. There was a
breathless interval when Nicholas thought he might miss, but at the last
moment the leading end of the log swung sharply and the point of it
crashed into the trailing end of the bamboo, hooking-on to it.
The log's weight and momentum were irresistible. The bamboo poles
crackled and snapped like dry kindling, and then the whole rickety
structure tore loose from the wall and came crashing down over the log.
Helm swung out overhead, then released his grip and dropped feet first
into the water close alongside the log. He went deep below the surface.
While he was under, Nicholas pulled himself up to sit astride the log
and grabbed a length of bamboo pole that had broken off the scaffolding
and was floating alongside.his perch.
The log was trapped in a back eddy of the swollen river, and now it
began to spin slowly in the slack water outside the main current.
Nicholas was still riding high on the log. He hefted the bamboo,
swinging it back and forth like a baseball bat, to get the feel of it.
Then he cocked it over his shoulder and waited for Helm to show himself.
A second later the Texan's head broke out, streaming water. His eyes
were screwed closed, and he let out a gasp Of water and air and tried to
suck in a breath. Nicholas aimed the pole at his head and swung with all
his strength, but just at that moment Helm opened his eyes and saw the
blow coming.
He was as quick as a water snake, rolling his head under the swinging
club so that it merely touched the side of his cropped blond head and
then glanced away. Nicholas was thrown off balance by his own swing, and
before he could recover Helm had drawn a quick breath and ducked below
the surface again.
Nicholas poised the club, ready to strike a second time, peering down
into the murky water, muttering angrily at himself for having missed the
first blow while he still had the advantage of surprise. He had no
illusions about what he was in for, now that Helm had been warned.
The seconds drew out with no sign of his adversary reappearing, and
Nicholas looked behind him anxiously, trying to anticipate where he
would come up again. For a long minute nothing happened. He lowered the
club nervously, and changed his grip so as to be ready to stab in any
direction with the sharp broken tip.
Suddenly his left ankle was seized in a crushing grip below the water
and, before he could grab a handhold to resist, Nicholas was jerked from
his seat on the log and went over backwards into the river. As he
plunged beneath the water he felt Helm's fingers clawing at his face. He
grabbed one of the fingers and wrenched it back, feeling it snap in his
grasp as he forced it back towards its own wrist.
But Helm was galvanized by the agony of the dislocated joint, and one of
his long muscular arms whipped around Nicholas's neck like the tentacles
of an octopus.
The two of them came to the surface for a moment, both of them drew one
quick, harsh breath, then Helm forced Nicholas's head backwards and
water flooded into his open mouth. The lock on his neck tightened, and
he felt the tension on his vertebrae. It was a killer grip. If Helm had
only had a solid purchase he could have exerted the last ounce of
pressure which would have snapped his spine. But Nicholas kept rolling
back in the direction of the thrust, giving with it, and preventing Helm
from bringing all his strength to bear. As he went over he saw Helm's
face in front of his, magnified and distorted through the tainted grey
water. He looked monstrous and evil.
As Helm rolled over the top of him Nicholas locked both hands around his
waist to hold him firmly, then brought up his right knee between Helm's
legs, hard into his crotch, and felt the bone of his kneecap make
contact.
The bunch of genitals was full and rubbery; Helm contorted and his lock
on Nicholas's neck eased. Nicholas used the slack to reach down and grab
a handful of Helm's damaged testicles and twist them savagely. He saw
the man's face inches in front of his own twist into a rictus of pain
and Helm pulled away from him, releasing his lock on Nicholas's throat
and reaching down to grab his wrist with both hands.
Again they came to the surface close alongside the floating log, and
Nicholas realized that the current had taken hold of them again and was
carrying them away through the outlet of Taita's pool into the full
stream of the river. Nicholas released his grip on Helm's balls and with
his other hand aimed a punch at his face, but they were too close to
each other and the blow lacked power. It glanced off Helm's cheek, and
Nicholas tried to lock his extended arm around his neck, going for a
headlock himself Helm hunched his head down on his shoulders slipping
under the hold. Then suddenly he reached for-ward fast as a striking
adder and sank his teeth into Nicholas's chin.
The surprise was complete, and the pain was excruciating as his teeth
locked into the flesh. Nicholas shouted and clawed at Helm's face, going
for his eyes, trying to drive his fingernails through the lids. But Helm
squeezed his eyes tight closed and his teeth cut in ever deeper, so that
Nicholas's blood welled up and oozed from the corners of Helm's mouth.
The log was still floating beside them, inches from the back of Helm's
head. Nicholas seized his ears, one in each hand, and twisted him around
in the water. He could see over the top of Helm's head, while Helm's
vision was blocked. There was a nub of raw wood sticking out of the tree
trunk where an axe had hacked away a, ride branch.
The cut was at an angle, leaving a sharp spike. Through tears of agony
Nicholas lined up the spike with the back of Helm's head. He could feel
Helm's teeth almost meeting in the flesh of his face. They had cut
through the lower lip so that blood was starting to fill Nicholas's
mouth. Helm was worrying him like a pit'bull in the arena, wrenching his
head from side to side. Soon he would come away with a bloody mouthful
of Nicholas's flesh.
With all the strength of pain and desperation, Nicholas hurled himself
forward, and, using his upper body and his grip on the sides of Helm's
head, drove him on to the sharp wooden spike. The point found the joint
between the vertebrae of the spine and the base of Helm's skull, going
in like a nail and partially severing the spinal cord.
Helm's jaws sprang open as he went into spasm. Nicholas pulled away from
him with a flap of loose flesh hanging from his chin, and blood
streaming and spurting from the deep ragged wound.
Helm was impaled upon the spike, like a carcass on a butcher's hook. His
limbs twitched and the muscles of his face convulsed, his eyelids
shivered and jumped like those of an epileptic, and his eyeballs rolled
back into his skull so that only the whites showed, flashing grotesquely
in the gloom of the chasm.
Nicholas pulled himself up on to the tog beside the Texan's body, and
hung there panting and bleeding in gouts down his chin on to his chest.