gns.batsoutofhell-第22节

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　　Gerald　Pitkin　had　watched　the　sky　darkening　over　the　Wrekin　for　the　past　half…hour。　His　head　ached；　and　his　eyes　seemed　to　smart　in　their　sockets。　Beside　him；　his　wife　sat　in　the　passenger…seat　of　the　Fiat　as　though　dozing；　but　he　knew　that　although　her　eyes　were　closed　she　was　not　asleep。　Harry　stared　out　of　the　window　at　the　rear；　expressionless；　unspeaking。
　　
　　'It's　nearly　dark。'　Gerald　tapped　Bertha　on　the　shoulder。　'I　think　we'd　better　be　moving。'
　　
　　'D'you　think　it's　worth　it？'　Her　eyelids　flickered　open　as　she　spoke；　and　he　saw　that　she　had　been　crying　silently　to　herself。　'I　mean；　we　won't　make　it；　will　we？'
　　
　　'Of　course　we　shall；'　he　replied；　trying　to　sound　confident。　'It's　only　about　ten　miles　from　here；　across　country。'
　　
　　'But　those　guards。。。'
　　
　　'We'll　keep　our　eyes　peeled；'　he　assured　her；　and　eased　his　door　open。　'Bet　you　we　don't　see　a　single　one。'
　　
　　All　three　of　them　got　out。　The　Fiat　was　parked　in　an　open　gateway；　its　front　wheels　resting　on　the　stubble　of　early　harvested　barley。
　　
　　'The　sky's　very　red　over　there。'　Bertha　Pitkin　pointed　beyond　the　Wrekin。
　　
　　'Probably　the　reflection　of　the　setting　sun；'　Gerald　replied。　He　knew　perfectly　well　that　it　wasn't。　It　was　too　late；　anyway。　He　knew　in　his　heart　what　was　causing　the　glow。　Somewhere；　far　away；　something　was　burning。　Something　big。　Buildings。　A　town；　maybe　a　city。　Wolver…hampton　or　Birmingham。
　　
　　'We'll　head　west；'　he　spoke　in　low　tones。　'Keep　well　clear　of　villages　and　roads　until　we　get　to　Atcham。　Shouldn't　think　they'll　bother　with　guards　out　that　far。　We'll　be　well　behind　the　lines　then。'
　　
　　Gerald　led　the　way；　crawling　under　barbed…wire　fences；　holding　up　the　wicked　strands　for　Bertha　to　crawl　beneath。　Clothing　was　torn；　hands　and　legs　were　scratched；　but　nobody　plained。
　　
　　There　was　silence　everywhere。　They　knew　that　the　road　was　no　more　than　a　quarter　of　a　mile　away；　yet　no　sound　of　traffic　came　to　their　ears。　No　lights　showed　in　houses　or　cottages。　A　dog　barked　somewhere　as　they　passed　a　darkened　farmhouse；　but　nobody　came　to　investigate。　It　was　as　though　the　whole　world　had　died　and　they　were　the　sole　survivors　of　some　terrible　disaster。　Gerald　Pitkin　shuddered　at　the　thought。　It　was　a　very　real　possibility。
　　
　　The　land　ahead　of　them　rose　slightly。　They　could　see　trees　and　bushes　outlined　against　the　sky。
　　
　　'How　much　further　d'you　think　it　is？'　Bertha　whispered　hoarsely；　holding　on　to　her　husband's　arm　for　support。
　　
　　'We　must've　covered　about　rive　or　six　miles。'　he　replied。　'We're　not　doing　too　badly。　If　we　can　keep　this　pace　up　we'll　be　at　Tom's　before　daylight'
　　
　　Then；　in　one　brief；　horrifying　second；　their　hopes　were　shattered。　They　were　halfway　up　the　slope　when　a　voice　called　from　the　shadows；　'Hold　it　right　there。　Keep　perfectly　still　or　you'll　be　shot！'
　　
　　Gerald　Pitkin　caught　his　breath。　Bertha　whimpered　softly。　Harry　remained　silent。　Footsteps　came　towards　them；　boots　crunching　on　dry　bracken　and　grass；　and　two　men　appeared。　One　was　hanging　back；　covering　the　other。　Both　had　guns。
　　
　　'And　where　the　hell　d'you　bastards　think　you're　bleedin'　well　goin'？'　the　nearest　man　demanded。　He　approached　'hem；　and　arrogantly　spat　at　their　feet。
　　
　　They　could　see　he　was　dressed　in　some　kind　of　improvised　uniform。　A　camouflage　bat…jacket　bore　white　initials　clumsily　stitched　on　to　the　lapels。　BVF。　Added　to　this　was　a　PVC　jungle…style　hat；　denims　and　heavy　working　boots。　The　weapon　he　carried　was　a　sporting　gun；　probably　a　twelve　or　sixteen　gauge；　Gerald　decided。　A　cartridge…belt　was　slung；　Mexican…style　across　his　chest。
　　
　　'We're　on　our　way　to　Shrewsbury。'　Gerald　tried　to　keep　the　tremor　out　of　his　voice。　'To　see　my　brother。'
　　
　　'Well　nobody　goes　any　further　than　this。　So　piss　off　back　where　you　came；　all　three　of　you。'
　　
　　'Our　car　broke　down　outside　Wellington；'　Gerald　said。　'We　had　to　leave　it　and　walk。'
　　
　　'Well　you　can　bloody　well　walk　back　to　it。'
　　
　　'Please。　My　wife　is　exhausted。。。　'
　　
　　'Look；　mate；　I'm　bloody　exhausted　too；　turning　back　bastards　like　you　who　leave　the　roads　and　try　to　sneak　out　of　the　disease…zone　across　country。'
　　
　　'Who　are　you？'　Gerald　asked；　but　he　already　knew；　anyway。
　　
　　'BVF。　And　if　you　don't　piss　off　right　now；　you'll　be　shot。'　There　was　the　click　of　a　safety…catch　being　pushed　forward。　'All　three　of　you。　And　you　won't　be　the　first　tonight！'
　　
　　Slowly　Gerald　Pitkin　turned　away；　and　the　three　of　them　trudged　back　down　the　hill。　None　of　them　spoke。　When　they　reached　the　bottom　they　sank　down　on　to　the　soft　grass；　huddling　together　in　a　way　that　they　had　not　done　for　many　years。
　　
　　'What。。。　what　are　we　going　to　do　now？'　Bertha　sobbed　at　last。
　　
　　'I　don't　know；'　Gerald　replied。　'I　just　don't　know。'　And　in　the　east　the　sky　had　bee　a　deeper　red；　the　fiery　glow　spreading　across　the　whole　width　of　the　horizon　beyond　the　Wrekin。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Eleven
　　
　　The　city　of　Birmingham　burned　for　two　whole　days　and　nights；　dense　columns　of　black　smoke　rising　into　the　sky；　spreading　and　obscuring　the　scorching　rays　of　the　sun。　Fire…brigades　fought　and　lost　a　series　of　battles；　being　forced　to　concede　several　major　buildings　to　the　flames；　and　spraying　adjacent　ones　in　a　futile　effort　to　check　the　spreading　blaze。　And　all　the　time　they　were　hampered　by　missile…throwing　crowds　which　even　the　bined　Armed　Forces　and　BVF　squads　were　unable　to　drive　back　at　times。
　　
　　Rubber　bullets　were　replaced　by　lead　ones　during　the　first　day　of　street　fighting。　No　longer　were　warning　shots　fired　over　the　heads　of　the　fear…crazed　mobs。　Tanks　and　armoured　trucks　formed　barricades　hi　an　attempt　to　segregate　New　Street　and　Corporation　Street　whilst　the　battles　with　the　flames　continued。
　　
　　The　streets　were　littered　with　the　dead。　The　wounded　cried　incessantly　for　aid；　but　none　heeded　them　except　perhaps　close　relatives；　many　of　whom　paid　the　extreme　penalty　from　either　venturing　into　the　line　of　fire；　or　being　buried　beneath　falling；　burning　rubble。　Nowhere　were　the　casualties　collected。　The　outbreak　of　violence　had　prevented　the　scheme　for　corpse　clearance　by　means　of　refuse…carts　being　implemented。　It　was　hoped；　unofficially；　that　the　majority　of　the　victims　would　be　cremated　in　the　holocaust。
　　
　　Anarchy　and　fire　were　terrible　indeed。　But　when　pared　with　the　terror　which　the　bats　were　creating　they　were　as　mild　irritations　in　a　crumbling　society。　The　burning　city　appeared　to　have　enraged　them　beyond　all　prehension。　By　day　few　were　seen；　but　as　dusk　and　smoke　merged　into　darkness；　they　flitted　over　blazing　streets　as　though　winging　their　way　through　the　flames　of　hell　itself。　They　were　impartial　in　their　choice　of　victims。　Members　of　the　armed　and　fire…fighting　forces　or　rioters；　it　made　no　difference　to　these　tiny；　insane　creatures。
　　
　　Many　bats　were　seen　lying　dead　in　the　gutters；　along　with　rats　and　mice　which　had　crawled　from　their　holes　in　the　final　stages　of　suffering。　But　it　was　from　the　carriers　of　the　mutated　virus　that　the　danger　lay。　Whilst　they　existed；　death　was　a　constant　hazard。
　　
　　The　third　day　dawned。　The　flames　had　died　down。　Embers　smouldered；　and　the　still　atmosphere　was　filled　with　the　stench　of　burned　flesh。　Thousands　had　perished。　The　war　in　the　city　had　been　reduced　to　guerrilla　status。　Armoured　trucks　patrolled　the　streets；　unhesitatingly　opening　fire　on　any　hostile　gathering；　increasing　the　death…toll　hourly。
　　
　　In　the　suburbs　citizens　cringed　behind　locked　doors；　answering　to　none。　Fireplaces　were　either　blocked　up　or　else　fires　were　kept　burning　as　long　as　wood　and　coal　supplies　lasted。　It　was　one　way　of　keeping　the　bats　at　bay。
　　
　　The　disease　was　reaching　its　peak　as　those　who　had　been　unfortunate　enough　to　e　into　contact　with　bats；　after　the　exodus　of　the　breeding　flocks　and　their　young　from　Villa　Park；　succumbed　to　the　virus。　Hospitals　slowly　ground　to　a　standstill　and　became　little　more　than　extensions　of　the　city's　mortuaries。　With　no　antidote　available　all　that　doctors　could　do　was　to　attempt　to　ease　the　suffering　of　the　dying。　And　this　was　no　more　than　a　token　effort　of　goodwill　on　the　part　of　the　medical　officers。　Even　morphine　had　little　effect　once　the　paralysis　and　madness　stage　was　reached。
　　
　　By　the　third　evening；　a　stillness　hung　over　the　city。　Only　the　occasional　shot　was　to　be　heard。　The　rioters　were　skulking　in　the　shadows；　licking　their　wounds；　watching　and　waiting。
　　
　　The　smoke　haze　thinned　somewhat　as　dusk　deepened。　But　there　was　something　different；　something　strange　in　the　air。　It　was　difficult　to　determine　what　it　was。
　　
　　It　was　the　Chief　Fire　Officer　who　finally　diagnosed　it；　and　there　was　a　mixture　of　surprise　and　relief　in　his　voice　as　he　stared　up　at　the　smoky　sky。
　　
　　'It's　the　bats。'　he　said。　'There's　not　a　single　one　to　be　seen！'
　　
　　Reports　from　other　parts　of　the　city　confirmed　this。　The　bats　had　disappeared　pletely。
　　
　　The　Biological　Research　Centre　on　Cannock　Chase　was　under　heavy　guard；　mostly　by　the　BVF；　The　vigilantes　were　the　worst　threat。　In　the