gns.throwback-第35部分

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ould　have　seemed　more　natural　walking　on　all…fours；　every　one　of　them　carrying　some　kind　of　improvised　weapon；　scythes；　pitchforks；　clubs。
　　
　　Sylvia　froze；　cringed。　Searching　their　bearded　squat　faces；　they　all　looked　the　same　in　the　faint　starlight；　might　all　have　been　cast　from　the　same　mould。　They　stopped；　watching　her。
　　
　　She　fought　to　make　her　vocal　cords　work；　struggling　to　get　words　out　and　when　finally　she　succeeded　all　that　she　managed　was　a　hoarse　frightened　whisper。　'Eric　。　。　。　are　you　there；　Eric？'
　　
　　No　answer。　No　movement。　Staring　at　her；　eyes　narrowed　as　though　they　suspected　a　trap。　Shuffling　forward　a　few　paces；　stopping　again。
　　
　　Sylvia　screamed；　a　long　shriek　of　sheer　terror；　and　in　that　instant　movement　returned　to　her　limbs。　Panicking；　turning　back；　her　fingers　struggling　with　the　heavy　door　handle；　slipping；　unable　to　secure　a　grip　and　turn　it。　Pulling；　pushing；　knowing　that　they　were　ing　for　her；　smelling　their　rancid　animal　odour。　Eric　wasn't　amongst　them；　he　wasn't　like　this'；　he　would　not　hurt　her。
　　
　　She　screamed　again；　an　inarticulate　yell；　tugging　at　the　door。　Don't　touch　me；　you　brutes。　'Jon　。　。　。　Jon！'
　　
　　And　then　she　felt　their　grip；　claw…like　fingers　digging　into　her　arms　and　shoulders；　dragging　her　out　of　the　porch；　lifting　her　up；　carrying　her。　She　struggled；　kicked　until　they　grabbed　her　legs；　grunted　their　surprise　and　lust　at　finding　one　so　unlike　themselves。　Curiosity；　others　crowding　round；　prodding　at　her；　hurting　her；　starting　to　tear　her　clothes。
　　
　　She　almost　passed　out。　They　would　rape　her；　maybe　kill　her　when　they　had　finished　with　her。　Perhaps　they　had　already　murdered　Eric；　he　would　not　let　them　do　this　to　her。
　　
　　Sobbing　softly；　her　eyes　closed　because　she　could　not　bear　to　look；　wanted　to　die　now　and　get　it　all　over；　there　was　nothing　left　to　live　for。　Kill　me；　please1。
　　
　　Suddenly　there　was　a　deafening　explosion；　an　ear…splitting　report　that　ripped　through　her；　a　vivid　flash　that　she　saw　even　with　her　eyes　closed。　A　sensation　of　falling；　hitting　the　ground；　lying　there；　not　understanding；　not　wanting　to。　Oh　God；　I　want　to　die；　please　let　me　be　dead。
　　
　　A　second　explosion　and　then　she　heard　her　captors　screaming；　primitive　cries　of　pain　and　fear。　Opened　her　eyes；　saw　but　did　not　understand。　One　of　them　was　lying　on　the　ground；　a　still；　crumpled　form　from　which　blood　poured　out　of　innumerable　wounds。　Surely　he　was　dead。　Two　others；　bleeding　but　still　upright；　whimpering；　pawing　at　their　bodies　in　shocked　amazement。　The　rest　were　running；　howling。
　　
　　'Sylvia　。　。　。　Sylvia　are　you　all　right？'
　　
　　She　recognised　Jon's　voice；　got　to　her　knees。　A　sliver　of　orange　light　played　on　her；　momentarily　dazzled　her。　A　torch；　ing　from　an　upstairs　window。
　　
　　Two　more　loud　reports。　She　recognised　the　stabbing　flames　of　a　shotgun　blast；　screamed　as　she　saw　the　two　wounded　throwbacks　stagger；　clutch　at　their　faces。　Oh　Jesus　God；　they　didn't　have　faces　any　longer；　just　scarlet　bloody　mulch；　their　screams　drowned　by　the　blood　that　spouted　from　where　their　mouths　had　been　seconds　before。　They　hit　the　ground；　did　not　move　again。
　　
　　Sylvia　knelt　there；　tried　not　to　think；　heard　the　door　opening；　Jon's　bare　feet　running　across　the　yard。　Smelled　the　sharp　tang　of　burned　gunpowder；　coughed　and　was　almost　sick。
　　
　　'Sylvia。　。　。Sylvia。　。　。'Still　holding　the　gun；　helping　her　to　her　feet　with　his　free　hand。　'Are　you　OK？'
　　
　　'I'm　all　right。'　The　words　came　instinctively；　a　habit　of　civilised　society。　Somebody　asked　you　how　you　were　and　you　said　you　were　OK　even　if　you　were　ill。　Polite　conversation　because　nobody　was　really　interested　in　your　health。
　　
　　This　was　neither　the　time　nor　the　place　for　formalities；　though。
　　
　　He　was　helping　her　back　to　the　house；　supporting　her　weight；　moving　backwards　so　that　he　did　not　have　to　turn　his　back　on　the　dark　night；　holding　the　heavy　twelve…bore　one…handed。
　　
　　He　kicked　open　the　door；　bundled　her　through；　slammed　it　behind　him　and　forced　the　key　to　turn。　Then　he　shone　the　torchlight　on　her；　ran　the　beam　anxiously　over　her；　breathed　an　audible　sigh　of　relief　when　he　saw　nothing　more　serious　than　scratches　on　her　face　and　arms；
　　
　　'What　the　hell　were　you　doing　out　there？'　Angry　now；　demanding　an　answer；　'You're　fully　dressed。　Where　were　you　going？'
　　
　　She　bit　her　lip　and　in　that　one　instant　made　up　her　mind　to　tell　him。　Better　now　than　later；　tell　him　the　truth。　She　had　not　got　the　ingenuity　right　now　to　think　up　a　plausible　lie。
　　
　　'I　was　leaving。'　She　was　surprised　how　calmly　she　spoke。　*I　was　going　to　find　Eric　because　he's　out　there。　It　was　Eric　who　came　here　for　me　that　time。　My　husband；　alive　and　。　。　。　one　of　them。'
　　
　　He　stared。　Disbelief　on　his　pale　features。　'You're　mistaken；'　he　said；　almost　said；　'You're　crazy；'　but　checked　it　just　in　time。　'You　imagined　it。'
　　
　　'No；　I　didn't；'　she　screamed；　suddenly　sensed　a　wave　of　hysteria　threatening　to　engulf　her。　'It　was　Eric。　He's　been　out　there　watching　the　house　for　weeks　now。　He　needs　me！'
　　
　　Jon　Quinn　closed　his　eyes　for　a　second　or　two。　I　don't　believe　it；　I　won't。　I　do；　it's　feasible。　Jackie's　out　there　somewhere　too。　She's　got　to　be。
　　
　　'If　it's　Eric；'　he　swallowed；　hated　himself　for　saying　it；　didn't　quite　know　how　to　put　it；　'then　；　。　。　then　it　won't　really　be　him。　I　mean；　not　the　Eric　you　once　knew。'　Just　as　Jackie　won't　be　the　Jackie　I　once　knew。
　　
　　'It's　still　Eric　though。1　Her　voice　was　subdued；　she　wanted　to　cry　but　couldn't。　'My　Eric。'
　　
　　They've　surrounded　the　house；'　he　muttered。　'We've　got　a　fight　on　our　hands。　There　are　hundreds　of　them　in　the　hills；　starving　and　without　adequate　homes。　It's　them　or　us；　I'm　afraid。'
　　
　　She　nodded　dumbly。　I　still　want　to　go　to　Eric　though。　If　we've　got　to　die　then　I　want　to　be　with　him。　But　she　made　no　move　towards　the　door；　just　asked；　'What　are　we　going　to　do；　then？'
　　
　　'Nothing　much　we　can　do　except　fight。'　He　tried　to　smile。　'They're　frightened　of　guns；　I've　proved　that。　It　all　depends　on　how　determined　they　are。　We'd　better　get　back　upstairs；　the　bedroom　window　is　the　best　place　to　hold　them　off　from。'
　　
　　They　went　back　upstairs　and　Jon　returned　to　the　window；　looked　out。　There　was　nobody　in　sight；　just　those　three　bloody　corpses　in　the　yard。　He　felt　physically　sick；　Christ；　it　was　bloody　murder　whichever　way　you　looked　at　it；　they　had　been　ordinary　people　like　himself　once。
　　
　　And　if　Eric　Atkinson　was　out　there　somewhere　then　the　chances　were。。。　his　heart　threatened　to　stop　then　speeded　up　。。。　so　was　Jackie。
　　
　　He　rested　the　shotgun　on　the　window…sill　and　waited　for　daylight。
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　NINETEEN
　　
　　JACKIE　KNEW　by　the　time　she　reached　the　forest　that　she　had　thrown　off　her　pursuers；　temporarily　at　least。　But　the　dog　was　still　on　her　trail。
　　
　　She　had　been　aware　of　it　about　a　mile　back。　On　the　slopes　below　her　she　had　caught　a　glimpse　of　it　as　it　darted　from　gorse　bush　to　gorse　bush　snuffling　on　her　scent；　a　huge　black　shaggy　thing　which　she　recognised。　Kuz's　hound；　the　hellish　creature　he　had　trained　to　run　down　deer；　take　them　in　full　flight　and　tear　their　throats　out。　It　had　been　a　stray；　an　outcast　from　one　of　the　wild　packs　that　inhabited　these　hills　but　Kuz　had　taken　it　into　the　village　and　now　it　knew　only　one　master。　It　had　had　its　orders…run　down　the　woman！　And　it　would　run　until　its　heart　burst。
　　
　　It　could　have　caught　up　with　her　earlier　but　possibly　it　hesitated；　hung　back　because　it　knew　her　and　was　uncertain。　But　now　its　mind　was　made　up　and　it　had　her　scent。　It　had　adapted　to　hunting　humans。
　　
　　Jackie　could　not　go　much　further。　Her　legs　had　gone　soft　and　if　she　did　not　give　them　a　respite　they　would　take　it。　A　pain　in　her　side；　a　stitch　that　had　her　doubling　up。　She　could　not　outrun　the　creature；　neither　could　she　destroy　her　scent　and　hide　from　it。　There　was　only　one　possible　chance　。　。　。　she　saw　the　trees；　their　low　branches；　so　easy　to　climb　。　。　。
　　
　　Even　as　she　reached　for　a　bough　and　was　about　to　haul　herself　up　she　heard　the　low　moans；　groans　of　pain　and　hopelessness；　physical　and　mental　agony。　Delirium。
　　
　　She　hesitated；　looked　behind　her　once　more。　There　was　no　sign　of　the　dog　but　it　could　not　be　far　away。　Safety　lay　within　her　grasp。
　　
　　A　cry；　a　hoarse　whispered　shout　of　pain　as　though　whoever　it　was　had　lost　the　strength　to　give　full　voice。　She　peered　into　the　darkness；　a　mass　of　dark　shapes　that　were　tree　trunks　and　branches；　could　have　been　anything。　The　noise　came　again；　nearer　than　she　had　at　first　thought。　Climb　up　into　the　boughs　whilst　there　is　still　time。　No；　somebody　needs　help。　The　female　protective　instinct　prevailed。
　　
　　She　walked　forward；　outstretched　arms　warding　off　low　branches；　protecting　her　face。　That　dog　could　not　be　far　away　now。　She　ought　not　to　linger。　It　might　be　a　trap。　It　might　。　。　。
　　
　　Something　grabbed　her　ankle；　a　tightening　grip　that　would　have　thrown　her　off　balance　had　she　not　clutched　at　a　branch。　She　gasped；　tried　to　drag　herself　away　but　the　hold　on　her　was　too　strong　to　break。　A　groan　but　there　was　nothing　threatening　in　it。　Pain；　despair。
　　
　　Jackie　looked　down；　could　just　make　out　the　shape　of　a　man　on　the　pine…needles；　one　who　was　incapable　of　doing　anything　more　than　hold　on　to　her。　He　was　either　ill　or　injured。
　　
　　'What　is　the　matter？'　she　whispered；　thought　about　the　dog　again。　There　was　not　much　time；　there　couldn't　be。
　　
　　'Snake；'　he　grunted；　held　up　his　other　arm　for　a　second　but　its　weight　was　too　much　for　him。　'I　am　dying。'
　　
　　His　hold　on　her　relaxed；　she　dropped　to　her　knees；　felt　at　his　arm。　The　hairy　flesh　was　very　swollen；　throbbing；　so　hot。　His　whole　body　was　lathered　in　sweat。　She　could　see　his　eyes　in　the　blackness；　the　whites　showing　starkly。
　　
　　'Sylvia。'　His　voice　altered　to　a　tongue　which　she　did　not　understand。　'Where　is　Sylvia？　They　haven't　taken　her；　have　they？　I　must　see　Sylvia　but　I　am　too　weak。　Too　weak。'
　　
　　'I　do　not　understand；'　she　answered　him。　This　strange　language　frightened　her。　Words　like　Phil　Win