gns.throwback- 第7部分

　　
　　Jackie　looked　up　into　the　face　of　her　lover；　recognised　his　sheer　strength　and　power　and　her　flesh　goosepimpled　with　pride。
　　
　　'Jac；'　she　tapped　her　breasts　and　smiled。
　　
　　His　eyes　appeared　to　glaze　over　for　a　second；　a　moment　of　half…hesitation　as　though　he　was　trying　to　remember　something　but　his　brain　withheld　it；　a　flicker　that　might　just　have　been　fear　and　then　it　was　gone。
　　
　　'Kuz。'　His　reply　was　forced　as　though　his　vocal　chords　were　unused　to　speech。
　　
　　There　was　no　more　to　be　said。　Between　the　three　of　them　they　lifted　her　safely　through　the　broken　window；　climbed　after　her　with　more　caution　than　they　had　shown　on　entering。　Glass　was　not　strong　but　it　was　capable　of　cutting。　And　killing。　They　had　learned　and　they　would　not　forget。
　　
　　Shapes　emerged　from　the　wilderness　that　had　once　been　a　suburban　garden　but　in　the　darkness　it　was　difficult　to　distinguish　between　male　and　female。　A　silent　watching　crowd　which　looked　to　the　one　called　Kuz　for　leadership。　Where　he　went；　they　would　follow　unquestioningly。
　　
　　With　Jackie　at　his　side　he　strode　off　in　a　southerly　direction；　striking　across　the　fields；　skirting　those　lines　of　amber　lights；　glancing　fearfully　at　them　and　quickening　his　pace；　obeying　an　instinctive　calling　to　be　away　from　this　place　which　he　did　not　understand。　Ahead　lay　the　hills；　a　landscape　unchanged　and　older　than　his　own　species。
　　
　　The　calling　was　very　strong。
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　FOUR
　　
　　IT　NEEDED　an　awful　lot　of　courage　to　step　outside　the　cottage　into　a　world　you　had　once　e　to　accept　and　now　feared　what　you　might　find　there。　Jon　considered　some　type　of　protective　clothing；　there　had　been　a　play　on　TV　some　time　ago　about　the　survivors　of　a　nuclear　holocaust。　They　had　donned　plastic　coveralls　to　go　outside；　left　them　at　the　doorway　when　they　returned。　Fine；　but　he　didn't　have　any　such　garments；　an　oversight　which　had　caught　him　out。　But　this　wasn't　radioactive　fall…out；　it　was　micro…organisms　of　a　decidedly　nasty　species。　His　working　overalls　hung　in　the　lobby；　Jackie's　alongside　them。
　　
　　'We'd　better　put　these　on；'　he　said；　'and　leave　'em　here　when　we　e　back。'　'If　we　get　back！
　　
　　Sylvia　wrinkled　her　nose　in　disapproval；　a　mistress　clad　in　the　wife's　apparel。　Humiliating。
　　
　　'I'd　。　。　。　rather　not；'　she　replied　huskily。
　　
　　'Look。'　His　tone　was　sharp。　'You　either　put　them　on　or　else　you　stay　here　and　wait　for　me。　I　ought　not　to　be　taking　you　along　anyway。'
　　
　　Reluctantly　Sylvia　Atkinson　reached　down　the　thin　green　plastic　overalls。　There　was　a　rip　in　the　side；　the　rest　plastered　with　dried　mud　like　a　suit　of　army　camouflage　clothing。
　　
　　'They're　too　big；'　she　muttered　sulkily。　'I　can't　wear　these。'
　　
　　'You'll　have　to；'　he　snapped。　'Roll　the　sleeves　and　legs　up。　You're　not　going　on　a　fashion　parade；　after　all。'
　　
　　Reluctantly；　petulantly；　she　obeyed。　'Is　that　to　your　satisfaction；　sir？'
　　
　　'That's　OK；'　he　nodded；　glimpsed　the　twelve…bore　propped　in　the　corner；　wondered　if　he　should　take　it　along。　No；　it　would　not　be　necessary；　you　couldn't　shoot　micro…organisms。
　　
　　He　opened　the　door；　went　outside；　sensed　her　following　him　but　did　not　glance　back。　Suddenly　Sylvia　was　a　nuisance；　a　liability。　Jackie　would　have　co…operated；　e　up　with　some　constructive　ideas。　As　it　was；　he　was　lumbered　with　a　passenger；　an　additional　responsibility。　Even　being　alone　would　have　been　preferable。　Or　would　it？　You　wouldn't　know　about　that　until　it　happened；　and　by　then　it　could　be　too　late。
　　
　　The　yard　with　its　row　of　outbuildings　faced　him。　The　goat…house；　its　door　open；　the　animals　probably　grazing　the　field　at　the　rear。　The　woodshed　and　implement　shed；　the　hay　barn。　To　the　right　was　the　vegetable　patch；　the　weeds　which　a　week　ago　had　been　brown　and　going　to　seed；　now　ready　for　hoeing；　sprouting　fresh　greenery；　that　storm　the　other　night　had　been　heavy；　an　array　of　puddles　still　on　the　rutted　track。　Maybe　an　inch　of　rain。　The　surrounding　countryside　had　an　artificial　camouflaged　look　about　it　too。　Overhead　the　sky　was　gun　blue；　just　an　odd　wisp　or　two　of　fluffy　white　cloud。　The　long　dry　spell　hadn't　cracked；　just　a　freak　interlude。　Everywhere　smelled　fresh　and　if　you　had　not　known　what　had　happened　you　would　never　have　guessed。
　　
　　'Where　the　devil　are　the　hens？'　Jon　spoke　aloud；　a　puzzled　look　on　his　face。　Usually　the　poultry　spent　most　of　their　time　scratching　in　the　yard　and　trying　to　devise　ways　of　getting　through　the　chicken…netting　into　the　garden。　But　now　there　wasn't　a　single　bird　in　sight。　It　was　strange。　Eerie。　He　experienced　a　chill　in　his　stomach；　licked　his　lips　nervously。　The　hens　were　always　around；　now　suddenly　they　were　conspicuous　by　their　absence。
　　
　　He　stepped　forward；　squelched　in　the　mud。　He'd　better　check　on　the　goats；　he'd　been　worrying　about　them　ever　since　he　and　Sylvia　had　been　confined　below　ground。　The　kids　would　be　taking　the　milk　so　there　was　no　worry　about　mastitis　setting　in；　but　he　did　not　like　leaving　them　untended。　They　surely　would　not　be　far　away。
　　
　　He　saw　them；　the　three　nannies　with　five　kids　along　the　hedgeside　nibbling　at　hawthorn　shoots；　boughs　devoid　of　bark　where　they　had　stripped　them。　Relief　because　the　animals　were　OK。
　　
　　A　horned　head　went　up。　Rosie；　the　oldest　goat；　had　seen　him；　the　ridge　of　hairs　along　her　back　stiffened；　the　hackles　rising。　A　bleat；　deep　and　nearly　unrecognisable。　Two　more　white　Saanen　heads　jerked　round；　eyes　reflecting　a　fear　of　the　unknown。　Kids　leaped　out　of　the　undergrowth；　skipped　towards　their　mothers。　Suddenly　danger　threatened。
　　
　　'Rosie；'　Jon　called。　'Rosie；　it's　only　me。'
　　
　　But　Rosie　did　not　recognise　her　master；　that　much　was　clear。　She　backed　away；　turned；　the　other　two　following　her；　the　youngsters　staying　close　to　their　respective　mothers。
　　
　　Cloven　hooves　scampered；　thudded　on　soft　grass　as　the　animals　broke　into　a　run　heading　diagonally　across　the　small　rough　field　away　from　the　two　humans。　Fleeing　in　fear。
　　
　　'Well；　damn　me！'　Jon　Quinn　cursed。　They've　never　done　that　before；　ever。　Usually　the　moment　they　see　me　they　e　running；　hoping　it's　milking　time　and　they　can　get　a　bucket　of　concentrates。　It's　as　though　they're　。　。　。　frightened　of　me；　like　they've　never　seen　me　in　their　lives　before！'
　　
　　'There's　another　one　over　there。'　Sylvia　pointed　towards　a　spreading　oak　tree　some　fifty　yards　away。　Another　goat　stood　beneath　it　where　it　had　been　taking　advantage　of　the　shade；　a　much　bigger　animal　with　long　curved　horns　and　a　straggling　beard；　head　erect；　watching　them；　a　rough　coat；　the　hair　straggling　down　almost　to　its　forelocks。
　　
　　That's　Gilbert；'　Jon　breathed。　'At　least；　I　think　it　is。　He　looks　kind　of。。。　different。　His　coat　shouldn't　be　that　long　and　his　horns　ought　to　be　shorter　too。　e　to　think　of　it；　the　nannies'　coats　looked　much　rougher　than　usual。'
　　
　　'Well；　he's　ing　this　way；'　Sylvia　muttered。　'He　certainly　isn't　afraid。'
　　
　　Jon　tensed；　stepped　back　a　pace。　Something　about　the　male　of　the　species　alarmed　him。　All　billy　goats　had　to　be　treated　with　a　certain　amount　of　respect；　in　much　the　same　way　that　you　never　trusted　a　bull；　no　matter　how　docile　it　was　reputed　to　be。　Usually　Gilbert　was　content　to　browse　the　hedges　and　graze　the　grass；　lived　in　an　old　rusted　corrugated　tin　shelter　down　in　the　dingle；　but　now　he　was　certainly　interested　in　the　two　humans。　Deliberate　steps；　stopping；　sizing　them　up。
　　
　　Jon's　pulses　quickened。　Gilbert　had　certainly　changed。　He　looked　bigger；　too。　Gone　was　his　usual　stare　of　mild　interest　at　humans　infiltrating　his　domain。　His　eyes　slitted；　thick　neck　thrust　forward　arrogantly。
　　
　　'Move　backwards；'　Jon　spoke　softly　out　of　the　corner　of　his　mouth；　did　not　wish　to　alarm　his　panion　unnecessarily。　'He　might　just　be　protecting　his　harem。　Sometimes　billies　are　a　bit　temperamental。'　Don't　take　your　eyes　off　him。
　　
　　Going　backwards　a　step　at　a　time；　Jon　mentally　calculating　the　distance　to　the　gate。　Ten　yards　at　the　most；　no　more。　Sylvia's　hand　clutched　his　arm　and　he　could　sense　her　fear。　For　Christ's　sake　don't　panic。　I　can　smell　my　own　sweat；　and　so　can　Gilbert。　He　knows　I'm　shit…scared。
　　
　　The　big　goat　advanced；　tossed　its　head；　its　eyes　never　once　leaving　the　two　people　who　retreated　before　him；　blazing　sheer　malevolence　at　them；　an　enemy　trespassing　in　his　domain；　a　threat　to　his　supremacy；　the　male　of　the　species　seeking　to　prove　his　prowess　in　battle。
　　
　　Jon　anticipated　the　rush；　saw　those　tremendous　leg　muscles　tensing；　a　springboard　to　thrust　the　beast　on　its　final　rush。　He　had　lost　count　of　the　number　of　yards　to　safety　but　the　time　for　calculations　was　over。　He　wheeled；　grabbed　Sylvia　in　the　same　movement；　half…leaped；　half…ran。　The　aluminium　steel　gate　was　open　no　more　than　two　or　three　feet；　Sylvia　screamed　and　he　knew　just　what　he　had　to　do。　Terror　lent　him　strength；　enough　to　hurl　her　forward；　sent　her　sprawling　in　the　thick　mud　on　the　other　side；　hearing　a　snort　from　the　enraged　goat　who　saw　his　intended　prey　suddenly　escaping；　a　drumming　of　hooves　as　the　death…charge　began。
　　
　　It　was　the　mud　which