[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Along the way Bumba Fun and his Khampas called upon the citizens of Lhasa to
turn out in support of their own liberation. Dull bronze faces appeared at
windows like beaten gongs. But that was all. No one ventured out of doors. And
when they began encountering pockets of PLA resistance, they were on their
own.
"Buddhists," muttered Remo.
NO SOONER HAD the Master of Sinanju broken the dire news to the Bunji Lama and
the others than the air was full of flying machines. They zipped back and
forth in the thin air, rotors buzzing. There was no escape from them, except
downward.
"We cannot remain here," Chiun said tightly.
"We will fight," said Kula. Lifting both AK-47s in his big hands, he peppered
any helicopter that dared stray too close.
One, mortally wounded, spiraled down to blossom into a fiery flower far below.
Another fired back, shattering the cockpit of their own helicopter. Kula
directed his fire toward that ship. The twin streams of lead chewed off the
tad rotor. It, too, fell from the sky, a wounded thing of complaining metal.
The Master of Sinanju allowed Kula his sport. When both clips ran empty, the
big Mongol dropped his rifles in disgust and drew his silver dagger as if to
reach out and snare a passing helicopter for gutting.
In the end they started down off the mountain, plowing through waist-high snow
that concealed treacherous boulders.
Cadres in PLA green began rappeling down from their helicopters to places of
ambush below the snow line. They crouched in waiting, weapons ready, hard eyes
cruel.
Cadres below, helicopters above. And across the pastureland that separated
Lhasa proper from the mountain on which they stood came column after column of
tanks and jeeps and trucks.
Holding his black skirts before him like a plow, Chiun blazed a trail through
the snow sufficient for the Bunji Lama, Kula and Lobsang Drom to follow
safely. He grew grim of visage. It was possible to steal past the lurking
cadres, possible also for one of his consummate skill to reach the relative
safety of Lhasa and be spirited out of Tibet by guile and cunning. But to lead
his charges to safety was another matter. Some would die. Perhaps all. All
except for the Master of Sinanju himself, of course. He would refuse to die.
Surrender was the only reasonable option. Surrender, and then perhaps the
advantage could be regained and the tables turned.
He turned to break the harsh truth to those who had put their trust in him.
Squirrelly Chicane couldn't believe her ears.
Surrender? she shouted. Except no words came out.
"I will never surrender to the Han," vowed Kula.
Attaboy! Squirrelly thought.
"I will surrender if it is ordained that I surrender," added Lobsang in a
doleful voice.
You're a big help, Squirrelly thought.
"We must surrender if we are to leave this mountain alive," Chiun insisted.
Never! Squirrelly screamed mentally. This was awful. The whole storyline is
failing apart. I've got to get them back on track. They need inspiration. If
only I could say something or sing a song. That's it! A song! I need an
uplifting song. Their spirits will soar, and all this defeatist talk will end
up on the cutting-room floor, where it belongs.
Page 118
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Squirrelly bustled up to the Master of Sinanju and tried to get his attention.
She pointed to her mouth, made faces, did everything she could think of except
kick him in the shin.
"The Bunji wishes to speak," Kula pointed out.
"She should be heard," Lobsang agreed.
So, reluctantly Chiun reached up to release her vocal cords.
"You may speak," he said.
"It's about time you did that!" Squirrelly complained. "I have a plan."
"The Bunji has a plan," Kula said excitedly.
"Tell us this plan," Chiun said suspiciously.
"Just watch!' And without another word, Squirrelly clambered up on a snowy
crag within full view of the cadres below, the helicopters above and the tanks
and military vehicles assembling at the base of the mountain and burst into
song:
"I am the Buddha;
The Buddha is me.
I got my start
Beneath the bodhi tree.
I am the Bunji;
The Bunji is me.
Here I come,
To set Tibet freeeee!"
Squirrelly Chicane's voice lifted to heights never before reached on stage,
screen or in real life. Her top note soared, held and soared even higher to
unearthly realms of sound.
Every living thing on the mountain from man to snow leopard froze. They looked
up toward the source of the arresting note.
And when she felt all the full and undivided attention of her audience,
Squirrelly Chicane launched into the chorus.
Unfortunately no one heard a single note of the rest of her performance. They
were too busy running from the rumble of sound that started way up above the
snow line, grew to a roar and started cascading down the mountain, pushing
before it tons of snow, ice and hard, punishing rocks.
Avalanche!
The word exploded in a hundred minds at once.
The Master of Sinanju leapt from his spot and yanked Squirrelly Chicane off
the crag. She came unwillingly, but she came.
"Seek shelter!" he cried to the others.
Tons of snow and rocks roared down in a fury of sliding ice and tumbling rock.
There was no time to do anything except crouch under substantial stone and
pray to whatever gods could hear above the deafening roar of the mountaintop
that raced down, gathering speed and substance and destruction.
When it ended, the clear, cold air rang with the sound of no sound.
A bald yellow head streaked with black popped up from the snow. The Master of
Sinanju peered about narrowly. He reached down. He pulled Squirrelly Chicane
up by her saffron-tinted hair.
"I did it! I did it! Didn't I do it?" she said happily.
Kula and Lobsang emerged next, shaking the snow off like bears coming out of
long hibernation.
Below, the base of the mountain had been filled in. A handful of tanks had
survived the onslaught. They were racing away.
Above, the helicopters had scattered like so many frightened crows.
"I did it! I did it! I conquered the wicked Chinese!" Squirrelly exulted.
"We are not free yet," intoned Chiun, looking up at the helicopters, already
regathering like brazen vultures over a notquite-dead living thing.
After a few minutes all but one stood off at some distance. The remaining
helicopter, Chiun saw, was the one that had led the pack and brought this
calamity about.
From a belly-mounted loudspeaker came an authoritative voice, speaking perfect
Mandarin. "I offer safe passage to Gonggar Airport. Will you accept this
Page 119
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
generous offer?"
"Never!" Squirrelly shrieked, shaking her fist at the helicopter. "Isn't that
right, men?"
When there was no answer, she said again, "I said, 'Isn't that right, men?'"
They regarded her with doubtful eyes.
"Don't you see! This is the climax. The Bunji Lama calls down a mountaintop
onto the bad guys with her magnificent Bunji voice. This will really play! I'd
like to see Spielberg top this! Why, I'll bet they're dancing in the streets
right now, rejoicing that the bad guys finally got their comeuppance." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
Along the way Bumba Fun and his Khampas called upon the citizens of Lhasa to
turn out in support of their own liberation. Dull bronze faces appeared at
windows like beaten gongs. But that was all. No one ventured out of doors. And
when they began encountering pockets of PLA resistance, they were on their
own.
"Buddhists," muttered Remo.
NO SOONER HAD the Master of Sinanju broken the dire news to the Bunji Lama and
the others than the air was full of flying machines. They zipped back and
forth in the thin air, rotors buzzing. There was no escape from them, except
downward.
"We cannot remain here," Chiun said tightly.
"We will fight," said Kula. Lifting both AK-47s in his big hands, he peppered
any helicopter that dared stray too close.
One, mortally wounded, spiraled down to blossom into a fiery flower far below.
Another fired back, shattering the cockpit of their own helicopter. Kula
directed his fire toward that ship. The twin streams of lead chewed off the
tad rotor. It, too, fell from the sky, a wounded thing of complaining metal.
The Master of Sinanju allowed Kula his sport. When both clips ran empty, the
big Mongol dropped his rifles in disgust and drew his silver dagger as if to
reach out and snare a passing helicopter for gutting.
In the end they started down off the mountain, plowing through waist-high snow
that concealed treacherous boulders.
Cadres in PLA green began rappeling down from their helicopters to places of
ambush below the snow line. They crouched in waiting, weapons ready, hard eyes
cruel.
Cadres below, helicopters above. And across the pastureland that separated
Lhasa proper from the mountain on which they stood came column after column of
tanks and jeeps and trucks.
Holding his black skirts before him like a plow, Chiun blazed a trail through
the snow sufficient for the Bunji Lama, Kula and Lobsang Drom to follow
safely. He grew grim of visage. It was possible to steal past the lurking
cadres, possible also for one of his consummate skill to reach the relative
safety of Lhasa and be spirited out of Tibet by guile and cunning. But to lead
his charges to safety was another matter. Some would die. Perhaps all. All
except for the Master of Sinanju himself, of course. He would refuse to die.
Surrender was the only reasonable option. Surrender, and then perhaps the
advantage could be regained and the tables turned.
He turned to break the harsh truth to those who had put their trust in him.
Squirrelly Chicane couldn't believe her ears.
Surrender? she shouted. Except no words came out.
"I will never surrender to the Han," vowed Kula.
Attaboy! Squirrelly thought.
"I will surrender if it is ordained that I surrender," added Lobsang in a
doleful voice.
You're a big help, Squirrelly thought.
"We must surrender if we are to leave this mountain alive," Chiun insisted.
Never! Squirrelly screamed mentally. This was awful. The whole storyline is
failing apart. I've got to get them back on track. They need inspiration. If
only I could say something or sing a song. That's it! A song! I need an
uplifting song. Their spirits will soar, and all this defeatist talk will end
up on the cutting-room floor, where it belongs.
Page 118
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Squirrelly bustled up to the Master of Sinanju and tried to get his attention.
She pointed to her mouth, made faces, did everything she could think of except
kick him in the shin.
"The Bunji wishes to speak," Kula pointed out.
"She should be heard," Lobsang agreed.
So, reluctantly Chiun reached up to release her vocal cords.
"You may speak," he said.
"It's about time you did that!" Squirrelly complained. "I have a plan."
"The Bunji has a plan," Kula said excitedly.
"Tell us this plan," Chiun said suspiciously.
"Just watch!' And without another word, Squirrelly clambered up on a snowy
crag within full view of the cadres below, the helicopters above and the tanks
and military vehicles assembling at the base of the mountain and burst into
song:
"I am the Buddha;
The Buddha is me.
I got my start
Beneath the bodhi tree.
I am the Bunji;
The Bunji is me.
Here I come,
To set Tibet freeeee!"
Squirrelly Chicane's voice lifted to heights never before reached on stage,
screen or in real life. Her top note soared, held and soared even higher to
unearthly realms of sound.
Every living thing on the mountain from man to snow leopard froze. They looked
up toward the source of the arresting note.
And when she felt all the full and undivided attention of her audience,
Squirrelly Chicane launched into the chorus.
Unfortunately no one heard a single note of the rest of her performance. They
were too busy running from the rumble of sound that started way up above the
snow line, grew to a roar and started cascading down the mountain, pushing
before it tons of snow, ice and hard, punishing rocks.
Avalanche!
The word exploded in a hundred minds at once.
The Master of Sinanju leapt from his spot and yanked Squirrelly Chicane off
the crag. She came unwillingly, but she came.
"Seek shelter!" he cried to the others.
Tons of snow and rocks roared down in a fury of sliding ice and tumbling rock.
There was no time to do anything except crouch under substantial stone and
pray to whatever gods could hear above the deafening roar of the mountaintop
that raced down, gathering speed and substance and destruction.
When it ended, the clear, cold air rang with the sound of no sound.
A bald yellow head streaked with black popped up from the snow. The Master of
Sinanju peered about narrowly. He reached down. He pulled Squirrelly Chicane
up by her saffron-tinted hair.
"I did it! I did it! Didn't I do it?" she said happily.
Kula and Lobsang emerged next, shaking the snow off like bears coming out of
long hibernation.
Below, the base of the mountain had been filled in. A handful of tanks had
survived the onslaught. They were racing away.
Above, the helicopters had scattered like so many frightened crows.
"I did it! I did it! I conquered the wicked Chinese!" Squirrelly exulted.
"We are not free yet," intoned Chiun, looking up at the helicopters, already
regathering like brazen vultures over a notquite-dead living thing.
After a few minutes all but one stood off at some distance. The remaining
helicopter, Chiun saw, was the one that had led the pack and brought this
calamity about.
From a belly-mounted loudspeaker came an authoritative voice, speaking perfect
Mandarin. "I offer safe passage to Gonggar Airport. Will you accept this
Page 119
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
generous offer?"
"Never!" Squirrelly shrieked, shaking her fist at the helicopter. "Isn't that
right, men?"
When there was no answer, she said again, "I said, 'Isn't that right, men?'"
They regarded her with doubtful eyes.
"Don't you see! This is the climax. The Bunji Lama calls down a mountaintop
onto the bad guys with her magnificent Bunji voice. This will really play! I'd
like to see Spielberg top this! Why, I'll bet they're dancing in the streets
right now, rejoicing that the bad guys finally got their comeuppance." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]