gns.batsoutofhell- 第9部分

　　
　　The　sun　was　dipping　slowly　in　the　cloudless　western　sky　behind　them；　as　though　reluctant　to　relinquish　its　heat　to　the　cool　of　darkness。
　　
　　'It　hasn't　rained　for　a　month　now。'　Susan　said。　'I　heard　on　the　radio　that　a　drought　has　been　officially　declared。'
　　
　　'Nothing's　acting　naturally　these　days。'　The　professor　sighed。　'It's　as　if　Nature　herself　has　had　enough　of　everything　and　wants　to　wipe　us　all　out　and　start　again。'
　　
　　'Don't　say　that。'　Susan　shivered；　then　added；　'What　a　damp；　derelict　place　this　is！'
　　
　　'Clouds　of　midges　hovered　beneath　the　trees；　and　as　they　rounded　a　bend　which　brought　them　into　view　of　the　stables；　they　surprised　a　couple　of　feeding　rats　which　darted　into　the　sanctuary　of　the　gloomy；　derelict　buildings。
　　
　　'Ugh！'　Susan　grimaced。　'Just　the　sort　of　place　for　the　bats　to　hide　out。　They'd　be　well　at　home　with　all　the　rats　and　mice。　By　the　way；　d'you　think　rodents　are　capable　of　carrying　the　virus？'
　　
　　'I　don't　know；'　Newman　replied。　He　paused　before　the　entrance；　almost　reluctant　to　go　in。　'But　I　guess　we'll　find　out　before　very　long。　Now；　follow　me；　and　let's　take　a　look　inside。'
　　
　　The　Wooden　Stables　were　dark　and　forbidding；　the　sunlight　filtering　in　through　gaping　holes　in　the　roof　and　penetrating　the　shadows；　and　they　stood　just　inside　the　doorway　for　a　few　moments　whilst　then…eyesight　adjusted　to　the　gloom。
　　
　　The　first　thing　they　noticed　was　the　smell；　a　pungent；　decaying　odour。
　　
　　'God；　what　a　stink！'　Susan　wrinkled　her　nose　beneath　her　mask。
　　
　　'Something's　deposing。'　Newman　walked　towards　an　opening　in　the　brick　partition　which　separated　the　building　into　two　halves。　The　floor　was　a　mass　of　saturated　straw　and　rubble；　broken　slates；　fallen　bricks；　and　heaps　of　horse　dung。　His　foot　kicked　against　something；　a　tiny　body　that　rolled　over；　half　deposed；　barely　recognisable。　It　might　have　been　a　dead　mouse　but　for　the　membrane　of　skin　attached　to　it；　a　frail　wing　that　had　somehow　outlasted　the　carcase。
　　
　　'Look；'　he　said；　pointing　to　the　ground。　'That's　one　of　'em。　And　there's　another；　lodged　on　that　shelf。　Let's　take　a　more　thorough　look。'
　　
　　He　produced　a　torch　from　his　pocket；　and　by　its　light　they　uncovered　another　twenty　small　corpses；　some　more　rotted　than　others。　The　professor　directed　the　light　up　into　the　rafters　but　there　was　no　sign　of　life；　only　unbroken　cobwebs　stretching　between　the　beams。
　　
　　'Well；　they're　not　here　now；'　he　muttered。　'And　from　the　way　these　corpses　have　rotted　I　reckon　they've　been　gone　for　some　time。　Of　course；　the　weather's　been　abnormally　warm　for　the　time　of　year；　but　I'd　say　the　bats　haven't　used　this　place　for　a　fortnight。'
　　
　　'Maybe。。。　maybe　they've　all　died　and。。。　that's　the　end　of　it；'　Susan　suggested；　trying　to　sound　convincing。
　　
　　'I　wish　I　could　agree　with　you。'　Newman　switched　off　his　torch　and　they　went　back　outside。　'But　I'm　afraid　we　can　only　wait　and　see。　There's　twenty…five　thousand　acres　of　Cannock　Chase；　and　they　could　be　just　anywhere　on　it。　Maybe　even　further　afield。　We　know　for　a　fact　that　this　virus　can　be　passed　on　to　human　beings；　even　if　Haynes　and　Rickers　pooh…pooh　the　idea。　So　all　we　can　do　is　work　like　hell　in　an　attempt　to　find　an　antidote；　and　await　any　further　outbreaks。　I'm　afraid；　though；　that　before　very　long　Rickers　is　going　to　have　to　eat　his　words。'
　　
　　They　walked　back　to　the　car　in　silence。　In　the　dusk　which　was　now　gathering　a　bat　flitted　overhead；　squeaked　once；　and　then　was　lost　to　sight　amidst　the　tall　pines。
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Five
　　
　　The　Close　was　a　quiet　backwater　of　the　small　city　of　Lichfield；　where　little　change　had　taken　place　during　the　last　century。　The　prominent　feature　was　the　cathedral；　towering　above　the　solid　red　brick　and　black…and…white　timbered　buildings　which　housed　the　Dean　and　Chapter　and　others　connected　with　this　holy　place。
　　
　　In　the　furthermost　corner；　partially　screened　by　a　ten　foot　grey　stone　wall；　stood　the　Bishop's　Palace。　However；　it　no　longer　housed　that　worthy　man；　for　during　the　last　couple　of　decades　it　had　been　taken　over　by　St　Chad's　Cathedral　School；　a　purpose　for　which　it　was　ideally　suited。　Along　with　everything　else　in　the　Close　it　maintained　an　unhurried　existence；　preparing　its　pupils　for　life　at　a　public　school。　As　with　most　establishments　of　this　nature；　tradition　prevailed。　And　one　such　tradition　was　that　the　boys　attended　a　morning　service　in　the　cathedral　on　every　Saint's　day。
　　
　　The　headmaster；　a　young　prebendary　who　was　bining　a　career　in　teaching　with　a　call　to　the　service　of　God；　watched　with　pride　from　the　steps　of　the　cathedral's　north　door　as　his　pupils　were　marched　in　single　file；　shepherded　by　a　couple　of　prefects。　The　choristers　too　in　their　red　and　white　cassocks；　seated　in　the　stalls　adjoining　the　altar；　were　from　the　school　also。　And　this　morning；　to　plete　the　St　Chad's　monopoly；　the　Reverend　Francis　Jackson　himself　would　be　giving　the　short　address。　He　smiled　to　himself　at　the　prospect；　watching　the　last　of　the　boys　file　into　the　stately　edifice。　The　Bishop　personally　would　be　observing　everything；　seated　somewhere　at　the　rear　of　the　long　aisle；　incognito　in　the　shadows；　so　this　morning　everything　had　to　run　to　perfection。　Even　the　celebration　of　the　birthday　of　a　minor　saint　had　to　be　a　splendid　occasion。
　　
　　The　first　anthem　was　already　beginning　when　the　Reverend　Jackson　took　his　place。　He　knelt　briefly；　adopting　an　attitude　of　piety；　eyes　closed；　lips　moving　soundlessly；　then　rose　and　opened　his　prayer　book。　He　knew　the　words　by　heart；　and　this　enabled　him　to　focus　his　attention　on　the　congregation。　It　seemed　to　consist　mostly　of　his　own　pupils；　with　just　one　or　two　members　of　the　public　seated　in　the　rear　pews'。　He　tried　to　identify　the　Bishop；　but　it　was　impossible　at　such　a　distance。　He　had　to　be　there；　though。
　　
　　The　anthem　was　followed　by　prayers；　the　first　lesson；　and　then；　as　the　hymn　entered　its　last　verse；　the　Reverend　Francis　Jackson　embarked　upon　his　dignified　walk　from　his　seat　to　the　lectern。　The　pulpit　was　only　used　on　Sundays。
　　
　　The　strains　of　the　organ　died　away　and　the　Reverend　Jackson　faced　the　congregation　with　a　benign　smile　on　his　angular　face。
　　
　　'O　Lord；'　he　spoke　louder　than　usual　to　ensure　that　the　Bishop　would　hear　him　clearly；　and　affected　an　Oxford　accent；　'may　the　words　of　my　mouth　and　the　meditations　of　our　hearts　be　now　and　always　acceptable　in　Thy　sight。'
　　
　　He　paused　for　a　second；　his　eyes　narrowing。　Someone；　somewhere；　was　fidgeting。　He　couldn't　see　who　it　was；　but　he　could　hear　it；　a　kind　of　rustling；　sweet…papers　perhaps；　a　stealthy　sliver　of　chewing　gum。。。
　　
　　Even　as　the　headmaster　peered　down　the　aisle；　the　soft　swishing　sound　increased；　like　inarticulate　whisperings。　He　looked　upwards；　and　his　jaw　dropped　in　horrified　astonishment。　The　lofty　roof　towered　above；　him；　the　stonework　beautifully　carved　into　figures　and　designs　by　craftsmen　over　the　centuries；　the　sunlight　revealing　every　detail　in　a　variety　of　colours　through　the　stained…glass　windows。　Yet　this　magnificence　went　unnoticed　as　the　headmaster　saw　the　tiny　flying　creatures　fluttering　crazily；　diving；　twisting；　crashing　into　carvings；　falling；　regaining　their　powers　of　flight；　soaring；　diving。
　　
　　'Bats？　Francis　Jackson　grunted。
　　
　　The　whole　congregation　stared　at　him　in　amazement。　From　where　they　sat　they　could　not　see　the　bats；　and　such　were　the　acoustics　of　the　cathedral　that　they　were　unable　to　hear　them　either。　Choirboys　and　prefects　glanced　at　each　other。　Their　headmaster　had　snapped　under　the　strain　at　last。　Somebody　ought　to　go　to　his　aid。　His　arms　were　extended　as　though　trying　to　ward　off　some　invisible　attacker；　his　lips　mouthing　exhortations　of　fear　as　though　a　devil　had　possessed　his　soul。
　　
　　Bryce…Janson；　the　head　boy；　was　on　his　feet；　determined　to　rescue　his　headmaster　before　this　thing　went　any　further。　He　stepped　forward；　trying　to　determine　a　course　of　action；　when　the　full　force　of　the　bat　invasion　came　into　view；　spiralling　down　from　the　roof　in　a　flight　of　uncontrolled　fury；　erratic　and　without　any　obvious　use　of　their　radar。　There　must　have　been　at　least　two　or　three　dozen　of　the　creatures。
　　
　　The　congregation　were　staring　in　amazement。　Bryce…Janson　stood　immobile；　as　though　hypnotised。　The　Reverend　Jackson　was　flailing　his　arms　wildly；　shouting　hysterically。　He　had　always　had　a　fear　of　bats；　and　to　him　this　was　a　nightmare。　It　couldn't　be　happening。　It　was　all　in　the　mind；　and　in　front　of　the　Bishop；　too！　Something　sharp　struck　him　on　the　forehead　and　he　suddenly　knew　that　it　was　real　enough。　It　was　then　that　he　started　to　scream。
　　
　　Bats　zoomed　up　and　down　the　aisle。　Some　of　the　boys　crouched　behind　the　pews　in　an　attempt　to　dodge　them；　others　ran　blindly　for　the　exit。　An　elderly　woman；　a　regular　at　most　services；　fell　to　the　floor　in　a　faint。
　　
　　Jackson　was　surrounded　by　several　choristers　who　were　attempting　to　drag　him　to　the　safety　of　the　vestry；　but　he　seemed　to　have　lost　all　control　of　himself；　lashing　out　blindly　with　his　fists。　One　surplice…clad　boy　fell　to　the　floor；　clutching　at　a　brok