Purnell grunted and pushed himself out of the chair. "It will be quite a while before they can catch him. I am going to the office you were helpful enough to lend me and work on my report. We can finish our business after you get this affair off your mind. Will you let me know how the chase comes out?"
"Yes, Mr. Purnell, I shall be glad to. I'll call you."
The warden turned to a stack of papers on his desk and Purnell strode through the door.
The water was cold. He clung to the log for as long as he dared but his fingers were getting numb and his thighs could no longer grip the log tightly. It swung close to the left bank and the man slid off it and wearily stroked himself over to the bank. It was steep, and slippery from the rain, but he managed to crawl up. He lay on the wet grass feeling the rain soak through his prison uniform. If he could just close his eyes, but he had to go on. They would be after him in no time at all. The mertha. He shuddered at the thought of the stories he had heard.
The rain was thicker, slanting sharply from the strong wind. It was vile weather but it would keep the helicopters grounded. They wouldn't dare fly in the gusts that were sweeping up the valley. The mertha were fast but not as fast as a helicopter. If he could get over the ridge and into Zadda City there was always a space scout ready to take an escaped prisoner to the pirates' moon.
He had been walking and running for an eternity. He slipped and stumbled up the long slope to the ridge, gasping for breath and digging his fist into his side to dull the sharp pain that cut him there from the running. He found himself straining to listen through the pounding of the rain. Then he cursed to himself. There wouldn't be anything to hear, no baying of these hell hounds, the mertha. Nothing for the ear--just torture and anguish for the mind.
He was near the top now. The last pitch was very steep and covered with huge rocks. But what was that faint flicker in his mind? It ebbed and then was back, a little stronger. A roiling, a hand dipping through his skull and stirring his brains. He clenched his fist harder and hauled himself over another boulder.
The mertha were getting closer. The flashes were stabbing harder into his brain now. But how close was that? He had no way of telling. Were they behind him? Or in front? The torment in his mind had no direction. He sobbed as he climbed.