gns.throwback-第45节

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　　Murderer！
　　
　　If　his　limbs　had　responded　Jon　Quinn　would　have　turned　and　run。　Instead　he　was　forced　to　stand　there；　cringe　before　the　mute　accusations　of　the　partly　exhumed　dead。
　　
　　Murderer！　You　cannot　be　rid　of　us　so　easily。
　　
　　Gradually　logic；　cold　reasoning　infiltrated　his　sheer　terror。　Those　。　。　。　things　。　。　。　were　dead；　they　could　not　harm　him；　repulsive　as　they　were。　This　was　not　Haiti　where　the　witch…doctors　summoned　the　dead　from　their　graves　to　enslavement　as　zombies。　It　was　Britain　and　things　like　that　did　not　happen。　You　just　got　poisoned　and　thrown　back　into　your　ancestry。
　　
　　Nevertheless；　somebody　or　something　had　dug　the　bodies　up。　He　moved　a　few　paces　nearer；　ran　his　eye　over　the　dispersed　soil。　Footprints；　large　animal　ones　with　claw　imprints。　Dogs！
　　
　　He　laughed　his　sheer　relief　aloud。　The　starving　wild　dogs　from　the　hills　had　scented　death　and　e　during　the　night　hours；　had　scratched　up　the　human　corpses　from　their　shallow　graves；　had　feasted　on　the　dead　meat。　And　when　the　canines　left　at　daybreak　the　crows　had　flown　in　to　a　banquet　of　carnage；　pecked　out　the　eyes；　scraped　the　flesh　off　with　their　talons。　And　now　the　sinister　birds　were　wheeling　overhead；　demanding　a　return　to　their　feast　before　flying　back　to　their　roost。　Jon　turned　away。　Let　the　bastards　e　back　and　feed。
　　
　　That　was　the　role　scavengers　played　in　the　world　of　death；　preventing　putrefaction　and　disease。　　After　dark　the　dogs　might　e　again；　foxes　too。　It　was　the　law　of　Nature　when　things　got　out　of　control。
　　
　　One　last　look　up　at　the　dark　forest　on　the　skyline　before　he　went　back　indoors。　The　first　few　snowflakes　were　starting　to　drift　down。　Sylvia　was　somewhere　up　there。
　　
　　Maybe　Jackie；　too。
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　TWENTY…TWO
　　
　　IT　WAS　morning　again。　Jackie　stirred；　instinctively　clutched　at　the　tree　branches；　experienced　a　dizzy　bout　of　vertigo。　Sickness；　fear；　and　the　fact　that　she　had　neither　eaten　nor　drunk　for　almost　two　days。
　　
　　She　was　going　down　there　today；　down　below　to　where　death　awaited　her。　She　either　died　up　here　slowly　of　starvation　or　gave　herself　up　to　the　pack。　The　latter　would　be　relatively　quick。　Her　mind　was　made　up。
　　
　　A　flap　of　huge　wings　close　by；　a　huge　brown　bird　taking　off；　gliding　and　settling　again　in　a　tree　further　away；　A　buzzard。　It　was　waiting　for　her　to　die　so　that　it　could　feast；　it　wasn't　in　any　hurry。
　　
　　She　released　her　hold　on　the　big　bough；　felt　the　branches　beneath　her　starting　to　bow；　yielding　to　her　full　weight。
　　
　　Sliding；　slippery　。　。　。
　　
　　She　tensed　as　she　felt　herself　go；　closed　her　eyes；　braced　every　nerve　in　her　body　for　the　impact。　Seconds　seemed　an　eternity。　A　brief　flash　of　inexplicable　memory：　that　face　again；　so　smooth　like　Phil　Winder's；　eyes　that　were　filled　with　sorrow；　lips　moving。　Please　don't　die。　Then　it　was　gone。
　　
　　She　hit　something　soft；　rolled；　sprawled。　A　cushioned　landing；　she　had　fallen　on　the　wild　dogs；　amongst　them。　She　closed　her　eyes　tightly。　I'm　not　going　to　look；　I　don't　want　to　see　them。　Kill　me　quickly。
　　
　　Jackie　could　feel　the　rough　hair　of　the　dog　underneath　her；　a　still　form　that　did　not　move。　One　of　the　dead　ones。　She　was　lying　there　waiting　to　die　but　death　did　not　e。
　　
　　It　was　the　silence　that　had　her　opening　her　eyes　in　bewilderment。　The　snarling　pack　should　have　been　on　her　by　now　but　there　was　not　so　much　as　a　warning　growl。　She　should　have　been　dragged　to　and　fro　like　a　rag　doll　caught　up　in　a　canine　tug…o'…war；　pulled　one　way　then　the　other；　teeth　biting　and　tearing　as　they　savaged　her。
　　
　　It　took　several　seconds　for　understanding　to　filter　through　to　her　confused　brain；　rejecting　the　fact　that　she　was　not　going　to　die。　Glancing　from　one　animal　to　another。　She　lay　on　the　big　one；　the　one　which　had　hunted　her；　had　killed　her　panion。　Two　more　close　by；　a　third　by　the　human　corpse。　Another　some　yards　away。　All　of　them　dead。　The　rest　had　gone。
　　
　　For　some　reason　the　dogs　had　left。　They　had　fought　and　feasted　on　human　carrion；　satisfied　their　hunger。　Bee　bored。　It　didn't　matter　why　they　had　left；　just　that　they　had。
　　
　　Jackie　sat　there　staring　about　her；　noticed　for　the　first　time　that　it　was　snowing；　odd　patches　of　open　ground　beneath　the　trees　already　sprinkled　with　a　soft　white　covering。　She　shook　herself；　sat　up；　still　listening　in　case　the　dogs　were　close　by　but　there　was　no　sound。　An　empty　forest；　devoid　of　all　life　except　that　buzzard　still　perched　in　the　tree。
　　
　　She　tried　to　stand　but　her　legs　were　weak　and　she　fell；　crawled　a　few　yards　away　from　the　scene　of　the　bloody　carnage。　She　couldn't　stop　here；　the　animals　might　e　back　or　else　others　scenting　death　might　appear。　She　had　resigned　herself　to　dying　but　instead　she　lived　and　now　she　had　the　will　to　fight　again。
　　
　　After　some　time　she　found　she　could　stand；　walk　a　few　paces；　holding　on　to　low　branches　to　support　herself。　It　was　bitterly　cold　and　she　was　hungry；　thirsty。　Also　she　was　a　fugitive。　Those　who　hunted　her　would　not　have　given　up　the　trail。
　　
　　She　followed　a　well…trodden　path　through　the　trees。　The　thick　overhead　evergreen　foliage　was　preventing　the　ground　from　being　covered　with　snow　and　it　made　travelling　easier。　All　the　same　she　could　not　remain　in　the　forest。　She　had　to　keep　moving。
　　
　　It　was　midday　when　she　finally　emerged　from　the　big　wood；　stood　and　looked　across　at　snow…covered　hills　and　valleys。　It　was　still　snowing　lightly　but　the　clouds　to　the　west　were　breaking　up。　She　knew　that　she　had　to　find　food　and　shelter　before　nightfall。
　　
　　She　headed　across　the　ridge　of　hills；　wary；　hiding　in　the　bushes　whenever　she　spied　other　people。　Once　a　group　of　five　men　and　a　woman　passed　within　yards　of　her。　The　men　were　struggling　to　support　the　woman；　two　of　them　carrying　her　a　few　yards；　setting　her　down　to　rest。　She　was　coughing　badly；　her　breath　wheezing　and　rasping　its　way　out　of　her　lungs。　A　conference　between　the　other　three　men；　they　were　worried　and　Jackie　thought　that　they　looked　ill；　too。　Eventually　they　moved　on　and　once　they　were　out　of　sight　Jackie　continued　on　her　way。　But　overall　she　sensed　that　something　was　dreadfully　wrong。
　　
　　Some　time　later　her　foot　caught　against　something；　almost　caused　her　to　fall。　With　a　start　she　saw　that　it　was　the　body　of　a　man　that　the　snow　had　covered。　She　saw　his　face；　stepped　back　in　horror。　Sunken　eyes；　the　flesh　blotched　as　though　some　disease　had　ravaged　him；　a　trickle　of　dried　blood　from　the　open　mouth。
　　
　　Death　was　mon　enough；　she　had　e　to　accept　it　as　an　everyday　occurrence　but　there　was　something　about　this　corpse　that　alarmed　her。　Had　he　been　savaged　by　wild　animals　or　mutilated　by　the　fierce　roving　tribes　then　she　would　hardly　have　given　him　a　second　glance。　But　he　had　died　from　some　inexplicable　cause　that　had　left　its　own　mark　on　him；　he　reminded　her　of　that　woman　she　had　seen　earlier；　the　emaciation；　the　sheer　hopelessness　in　the　features。　And　it　frightened　her。
　　
　　Jackie's　body　was　warmer　now　but　shelter　and　food　were　priorities。　She　remembered　the　fort　of　the　Winder　farmhouse；　foreign　to　her　instincts　then　but　she　needed　such　a　place　now。　And　when　she　spied　the　stone　cottage　set　back　against　the　side　of　the　hill　below　her　she　knew　that　that　was　where　she　must　take　refuge。　She　would　be　warm　and　safe　in　there；　she　had　learned　that　certain　packages　and　jars　contained　nourishing　food　and；　above　all；　the　tribes　mostly　avoided　these　strange　dwelling…places。
　　
　　She　approached　the　cottage　cautiously。　A　small　tumbledown　stone…built　two…up；　two…down　that　had　fallen　into　a　state　of　disrepair；　the　covering　of　snow　hiding　most　of　its　structural　faults。　Window　frames　had　rotted；　a　couple　of　broken　panes　had　been　repaired　with　brown　tape。　Several　slates　were　missing　off　the　roof　and　jackdaws　had　chipped　most　of　the　mortar　out　of　the　chimney　stack。　The　garden　gate　had　e　off　its　hinges；　was　lying　on　its　side。
　　
　　Jackie　took　a　direct　course　for　the　front　door；　it　was　locked。　Following　the　wall；　she　peeped　in　at　the　first　window　she　came　to。　The　usual　furniture　she　had　e　to　accept；　a　couple　of　easy　chairs；　a　sofa　and　a　table。　A　fireplace　with　just　crumpled　newspapers　in　the　grate。　A　table　was　strewn　with　sheets　of　paper　and　some　kind　of　squat　machine　which　she　did　not　recognise；　she　had　never　seen　a　typewriter　before。　She　moved　on；　skirted　a　lean…to；　came　to　the　back　door。　It　was　open　an　inch　or　two　so　that　it　creaked　in　the　wind　and　the　snow　slanted　in。
　　
　　She　pushed　it　wide；　stepped　over　the　threshold。　A　wave　of　dizziness　passed　over　her　and　she　flung　herself　on　to　the　sofa。　Sheer　bliss；　rolling　back；　stretching　out。　She　would　rest　awhile　and　then　she　would　find　something　to　eat　and　drink。　Outside　the　snow　was　thickening；　beginning　to　plaster　the　windows；　darkening　the　rooms。
　　
　　In　her　dreams　Jackie　saw　that　man　again。　He　was　in　the　same　room　as　her　but　somehow　he　always　succeeded　in　keeping　his　back　to　her。　Occasionally　she　glimpsed　his　profile　but　it　was　always　in　shadow。
　　
　　And　when　finally　he　came　to　her　the　light　was　gone　and　she　could　not　see　him；　only　feel　him。　Strong　smooth　f