gns.throwback-第47部分

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tables　stored　in　the　big　barn。　All　the　same；　he　had　to　follow　it　and　make　every　possible　attempt　to　alleviate　its　suffering。
　　
　　He　was　sweating　hard；　his　shirt　beneath　his　windcheater　sticking　to　his　skin。　There　was　the　danger　that　it　might　result　in　a　chill。　He　could　not　afford　to　be　ill；　survival　was　now　a　full…time　occupation。
　　
　　He　reached　the　horizon；　saw　that　the　footmarks　and　bloodstains　headed　across　in　the　direction　of　the　forest。　He　would　have　to　follow　them。　He　。。。
　　
　　Suddenly　he　heard　the　helicopter；　its　engine　powering　it　into　take…off　somewhere　close　by。　The　noise　hit　him　like　a　physical　blow；　froze　him　into　immobility。　Hide！　There's　nowhere　to　hide。　Run　before　they　see　you。　Open　country；　he　would　not　make　it　to　the　forest　in　time。
　　
　　The　helicopter　was　visible　now；　flying　low；　ing　towards　him。　Oh　Christ；　they've　seen　me；　they'll　take　me　back　with　then　to　enforced　civilisation。　The　hills　and　woods　are　throwback　territory；　everybody　else　has　to　get　out。　Emergency　regulations；　martial　law。　His　eyes　were　fixed　on　the　approaching　machine；　watching　it　grow　bigger　every　second；　nearer　and　nearer　。　。　。
　　
　　And　then；　without　warning；　it　stopped　as　though　it　had　run　into　an　invisible　barrier。　For　a　second　or　two　it　appeared　to　hover；　unbelievably　still　as　though　it　defied　Newton's　Law。　Then　dropped　vertically。
　　
　　Jon　Quinn　braced　himself；　felt　the　vibration　of　the　crash；　screamed　his　horror　as　he　saw　the　chopper　bounce；　the　vanes　snap　like　bamboo　canes；　overturning；　rolling。　Breaking　up。
　　
　　It　bounced　again　off　a　rock　beneath　the　snow；　seemed　to　split　apart；　strewing　its　wreckage　as　it　careered　down　the　steep　slope。　Something　was　thrown　from　it；　a　mangled　bloodied　body；　blood　jetting　from　a　ragged　neck　stump　where　it　had　been　decapitated；　spraying　crimson　like　a　garden　sprinkler　in　summer；　a　deep　snowdrift　finally　swallowing　it　up。
　　
　　Finally　there　was　nothing　left　to　roll　any　further。　A　blinding　explosion　as　the　fuel　tank　ignited；　a　brief　funeral　pyre　that　quickly　extinguished　itself　in　the　frozen　wilderness。　Less　than　half　a　minute　and　it　was　all　over。
　　
　　Jon　Quinn　did　not　want　to　go　and　look。　His　logic　screamed　at　him　that　there　could　be　no　survivors　but　his　conscience　yelled　even　louder　that　it　was　his　duty　to　check。　He　was　still　holding　the　shotgun；　euthanasia　was　his　only　remedy　if　anybody　still　lived；　for　he　could　offer　neither　medical　attention　nor　hope。　Just　mercy。
　　
　　Approaching　hesitantly；　the　urge　to　flee　this　place　very　strong。　Mangled　metal　stretched　for　over　a　hundred　yards　down　the　hillside；　a　bloody　hole　in　the　snow　where　the　headless　victim　had　disappeared。　A　crumpled　door　。　。　。　the　cab。　Oh　Jesus　Christ；　I　don't　want　to　look　inside　there。　You　have　to。
　　
　　The　pilot　had　hit　the　control　panel；　was　crushed　flat　across　it；　blood　dripping　steadily　off　the　instruments。
　　
　　Unrecognisable　as　a　human　being；　as　if　a　road…roller　had　gone　over　him。
　　
　　That　hare；　you　hurt　it　bad；　you　ought　to　be　going　and　trying　to　find　it。　Follow　the　bloodstains　in　the　snow。　There　was　blood　everywhere。
　　
　　The　rest　of　the　cab　was　empty　as　far　as　he　could　ascertain；　like　something　you　found　in　the　corner　of　a　breaker's　yard；　not　even　worth　stripping　for　spares。
　　
　　Go　and　search　for　that　hare；　put　it　out　of　its　misery。　There　was　nothing　to　linger　on　here　for。
　　
　　As　he　turned　away　Jon　Quinn　spied　a　third　body　in　the　snow。　It　lay　fifteen　or　twenty　yards　away；　face　down。　He　caught　his　breath；　wanted　to　back　off；　saw　at　a　cursory　glance　that　it　was　a　throwback。　He　licked　his　dry　lips。　Maybe　it　had　been　here　all　along；　was　nothing　to　do　with　the　crash。　The　hills　were　full　of　corpses；　when　the　thaw　came　（if　it　ever　did）　they　would　begin　to　depose；　fill　the　air　with　the　stench　of　rotting　flesh；　a　reminder　of　this　winter　of　death。
　　
　　That　hare　could　be　lying　up　there　in　the　forest　in　agony。　All　you　have　to　do　is　to　follow　the　blood。
　　
　　He　had　to　check　the　third　body；　he　would　never　be　able　to　live　with　himself　if　he　didn't。　It　had　been　a　person　once。
　　
　　It　was　a　woman；　he　could　tell　that　when　he　was　still　two　or　three　yards　away。　Her　hide　clothing　was　torn　down　the　one　side　giving　him　a　glimpse　of　a　shapely　body　beneath。　His　eyes　searched　for　signs　of　blood；　found　none。
　　
　　He　knelt　down；　rested　a　hand　on　her；　detected　a　shallow　rise　and　fall。　Merciful　God；　she　still　breathed。　She　was　alive1。
　　
　　He　could　not　leave　her　now。　That　hare　crossed　his　mind　again；　it　was　suffering　too；　but　human　life　was　more　important　than　animal　life。
　　
　　A　feel　at　her　back　and　limbs；　there　were　certainly　no　bones　broken。　She　had　been　thrown　clear　on　impact　when　the　doors　flew　open；　had　landed　in　deep　soft　snow。　Unconscious；　though。　Shock　and　concussion。
　　
　　Suddenly；　inexplicably；　Jon　Quinn's　flesh　prickled；　gooscpimpled　a　path　right　the　way　up　his　spine　and　into　the　nape　of　his　neck；　on　from　there；　spreading　across　his　scalp。　His　brain　seemed　to　stop；　start　again。　Instincts　gone　crazy；　knowing；　recognising　something　but　not　being　able　to　place　it。
　　
　　The　woman；　it　had　something　to　do　with　this　woman　。　。　。
　　
　　He　forced　his　arms　underneath　her；　used　the　slope　to　help　him　roll　her　over。　He　would　have　to　examine　her　carefully；　make　sure　that　it　was　only　concussion。　Pulling；　pushing　gently；　turning　her　over。
　　
　　Then　he　saw　her　face。　It　was　akin　to　an　electric　shock　coursing　through　his　body；　those　goosepimples　spreading　everywhere　like　a　moorland　fire　fanned　by　a　gale。　His　vision　tunnelled；　circled　a　face　he　knew　only　too　well；　features　as　familiar　as　his　own　in　the　mirror　each　morning；　even　the　change　could　not　destroy　such　beauty；　only　alter　it　slightly。　Marginally。
　　
　　His　brain　flipped　again。　For　a　second　everything　before　him　went　black；　came　back　again　like　a　rapid　change　of　channel　on　television。　He　swayed；　thought　he　was　going　to　faint；　his　lips　forming　a　name；　mute　utterances　until　at　last　he　got　it　out。
　　
　　'Jackie　。　。　。　Jackie　。　。　。　JACKIE！'
　　
　　For　Jon　Quinn　the　whole　world　came　to　a　stop　in　those　few　seconds。　Time　ceased　to　exist。　Just　the　two　of　them；　himself　and　Jackie；　together　again。　Remembering　so　clearly　the　last　time　he　had　seen　her；　that　bright　sunny　morning　walking　across　the　yard　to　where　the　Dyane　was　parked；　calling　out　to　him；　'I　might　be　late　back'；　that　meant　she　was　going　to　stop　off　at　Tiffany's　tonight。
　　
　　Late。　Six　months；　maybe　seven；　he　had　lost　track　of　time。　But　she　had　kept　her　word；　e　back。　Alive！
　　
　　Desperately　he　forced　himself　back　to　reality。　She　might　be　seriously　hurt；　even　now　she　might　not　live。　Fear；　his　quivering　fingers　examining　her　body。　A　few　scratches　and　bruises；　nothing　worse　as　far　as　he　could　ascertain。　Just　concussion。　Sometimes　people　died　from　concussion；　victims　of　road　accidents。　The　golden　rule　for　bystanders　who　tried　to　help　at　the　scene　of　a　crash…never　try　to　move　an　injured　person！
　　
　　He　had　to；　though；　because　no　medical　help　would　be　arriving；　no　ambulance　with　wailing　siren　and　flashing　blue　light。　No　doctors。　No　hospital　emergency　unit。　Just　himself　and　a　catch…phrase　which　now　took　on　a　different　meaning…self…sufficiency！　Self…survival。
　　
　　Somehow　he　lifted　her；　cradled　her　in　his　arms；　began　the　steep　slippery　descent。　Miraculously　he　kept　his　footing；　every　minute　an　hour；　the　sweat　running　freely　out　of　his　pores。　Until　finally　he　reached　level　ground；　followed　the　snow…topped　hedges　all　the　way　back　to　the　cottage；　a　journey　that　ended　up　in　the　bedroom　where　he　lowered　her　gently　on　to　the　bed　and　removed　the　rest　of　her　clothing。　Only　then　did　he　kiss　her。
　　
　　It　was　still　a　dream。　He　braced　himself　for　the　awakening；　the　return　to　reality。　A　twinge　of　guilt　as　he　remembered　that　hare；　prayed　that　it　was　dead　by　now。
　　
　　The　thaw　came　in　late　February；　the　first　hint　of　spring　towards　the　middle　of　March；　warm　winds　that　brought　with　them　the　stench　of　rotting　corpses　in　the　hills。　The　corvines　and　their　fellow　predators　were　busy　justifying　their　role　in　Nature's　plans；　the　big　cleaning…up　operation。
　　
　　Jackie　had　not　regained　consciousness　for　a　week；　and　for　a　fortnight　after　that　Jon　fed　her　with　fresh　warm　goats'　milk。　Gradually　her　strength　returned　and　then　began　the　makings　of　a　new　relationship　which　both　realised　that　they　would　have　to　work　at；　developing　their　own　means　of　understanding　and　munication。　Adaptation。　It　wasn't　easy　but；　as　Jon　reminded　himself；　they　had　to　stick　together　because　they　might　never　see　another　human　being　again；　civilised　or　throwback。
　　
　　Spring　eased　its　way　into　summer　and　with　it　came　the　knowledge　that　Jackie　was　pregnant。　And　something　else　。　。　。
　　
　　He　had　not　been　feeling　well　for　a　day　or　two；　nothing　which　he　could　be　absolutely　positive　about；　more　a　kind　of　lethargy；　having　to　exert　his　will　power　to　plete　even　the　simplest　chore。　His　reasoning　was　dulled；　a　simple
　　
　　lifestyle　suddenly　taking　on　plications。　And　throughout　it　all　Jackie　seemed　closer；　their　understanding　so　much　easier。
　　
　　A　casual　glance　in　the　mirror　brought　on　that　same　sensation　of　shock　that　he　had　experienced　the　day　he　had　looked　down　upon　Jackie's　features　on　those　snowy　slopes；　his　flesh　goosepimpling；　his　brain　reeling。　Staring　into　the　cracked　and　dirt…streaked　mirror　over　the　kitchen　sink；　seeing　a　reflection　that　he　barely　recognised　as　his　own。
　　
　　The　skin　was　coarser；　seemed　to　be　afflicted　with　some　kind　of　allergy　rash；　eyes　sunken　and　red…rimmed；　a　beard　that　was　coarse　and　straggling。　Lips　thicker；　nose　squashed　as　though　at　some　time　it　had　been　pushed　back；　broken　by　a　heavy　blow。　Changed　。　。　。
　　
　　Wrestling　with　realisation；　giving　up。　Accepting　it。　He　went　outside　into　the　yard。　The　hillsides　were　starting　to　green　over　again　with　the　lush　surge　of　a　new　growth。　A　new　beginning　to　a　new　world。
　　
　　He　breathed　deeply；　no　longer　smelled　the　odour　of　putrefaction。　He　sensed　Jackie　by　his　side；　both　of　them　standing　there　looking　up　towards　the　forest　on　the　skyline。　A　wilderness；　just　the　two　of　them　left　in　it。
　　
　　Suddenly　this　was　how　i