gns.throwback-第35部分

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　and　green　slime；　spat　it　out　as　though　the　tortured　body　was　rejecting　it　forcibly。　And　then　the　cranium　vibrations　ceased　immediately　as　though　somewhere　they　had　been　switched　off。　It　was　all　over。　Finis。
　　
　　'What　。　。　。　went　wrong？'　Westcote　spoke；　maybe　to　see　if　he　stil！　had　his　power　of　speech；　perhaps　as　an　instinctive　apology　to　Reitze　because　he　had　given　way　to　his　terror。　Only　Reitze　was　impassive；　immovable；　he　expected　everybody　else　to　be　the　same。
　　
　　'Nothing　went　wrong。'　The　same　monotone；　still　staring　at　the　hanging；　drooping　corpses。　'That　was　a　phase　one　experiment　to　find　out　how　the　brain　and　the　skin　tissue　reacted。　We　found　out。　Now　we're　ready　for　phase　two。'
　　
　　'Phase　。　。　。　two！'
　　
　　'We　need　to　discover　how　these　throwbacks　will　react　in　extreme　cold。　They　are　being　driven　from　the　towns　into　the　countryside　where　there　will　be　sparse　shelter。　A　few　weeks　and　winter　will　be　here。　We　don't　have　much　time。'
　　
　　Westcote　swallowed。　He'd　seen　a　lot　of　Reitze's　experiments　in　the　past；　probably　the　best　man　in　the　States；　he　knew　that　the　Professor　had　been　under　close　surveillance　in　case　he　defected　to　the　Soviet　Union。　Not　just　a　talent；　a　ruthlessness　that　put　him　at　the　top　of　his　field。　If　somebody　or　something　died　as　a　result　of　an　experiment　it　wasn't　a　failure；　it　was　just　a　step　towards　the　goal　he　sought。　Positive　thinking。　Inhuman。　These　two　who　hung　horribly　lifeless　from　the　whitewashed　wall；　they　were　just　'specimens'。　A　few　weeks　ago　they　had　been　normal　human　beings；　maybe　a　professional　man；　an　attractive　housewife。
　　
　　Now　they　were　mutilated；　festered　corpses；　no　use　to　anybody。　Not　even　a　mourner。　No　dignity。
　　
　　'Get　these　two　incinerated　and　the　place　cleaned　out。'　Reitze　was　scribbling　a　few　hurried　pencil　notes　in　his　pocket　notebook。　Then　tell　Blaby　that　I　shall　be　requiring　one　of　the　deep…freeze　partments　for　further　experiments。　He'll　have　to　shift　the　food　out　of　it　to　make　space。　And　when　that's　done　we'll　see　how　many　degrees　below　these　apes　can　survive　at！'
　　
　　Westcote　nodded；　swallowed；　hated　himself　for　not　protesting。　But　it　wouldn't　have　done　any　good。　Like　the　CND　protesters　a　few　years　ago；　voices　in　the　wilderness　that　went　unheard。　When　you　had　worked　with　Professor　Reitze　long　enough　you　got　to　know　that　you　either　obeyed　or　you　got　your　ass　kicked　right　out。
　　
　　Reitze　was　watching　the　other　carefully；　guessed　what　he　was　thinking。　He　heard　Rankine's　words　again：　These　are　our　people；　you　know。'　Not　any　fucking　more；　they　aren't！
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　FIFTEEN
　　
　　JON　QUINN　felt　autumn　in　the　heavy　rainshower。　The　difference　between　late　summer　and　the　beginning　of　fall；　as　suddenly　as　that。　He'd　lost　track　of　the　days　and　weeks；　regretted　not　having　marked　them　off　on　that　dog…eared　calendar　of　Jackie's　which　hung　from　the　knife　rack　over　the　working　surface　in　the　kitchen。　It　was　too　late　to　start　now　but　he　judged　that　they　were　well　into　September。　The　leaves　would　start　to　turn　soon。
　　
　　That　guy　was　still　watching　him　from　the　patch　of　thorn　bushes　up　on　that　hillside　opposite；　even　if　you　couldn't　actually　see　him　you　knew　he　was　there。　He　had　moved　well　out　of　range　since　Jon　had　fired　a　barrel　of　the　shotgun　in　his　direction；　knew　what　to　expect　if　he　came　any　closer。
　　
　　It　was　obviously　the　same　fellow　who　had　been　mooching　about　after　dark；　one　of　those　who　had　e　that　night　and　looted　the　toolshed。　Hell；　there　were　plenty　of　other　places；　deserted　farms；　why　did　he　have　to　stick　around　here？　Just　having　him　in　the　vicinity　sent　little　shivers　up　and　down　Jon　Quinn's　back。　He　couldn't　understand　it；　the　bastard　wasn't　out　to　steal　anything　now　because　he　had　had　the　opportunity；　he'd　been　in　the　buildings　again　and　hadn't　taken　anything。
　　
　　Jon　had　stopped　him　for　a　time；　used　the　electric　fence　which　worked　off　an　old　car　battery；　heard　him　howl　with　pain　and　shock　the　first　night　after　it　was　set　up。　But　the　battery　had　run　down　and　he　hadn't　got　another　one。　So　he　had　taken　to　padlocking　the　toolshed　but　the　bugger　still　came。　Maybe　he　was　harmless；　just　curious；　but　he　was　getting　on　Jon's　nerves。　No　good　going　up　there　after　him　because　he　was　gone　the　moment　you　set　foot　in　the　field；　bounding　up　towards　the　forest　skyline；　hiding　out
　　
　　there。　Still　watching　you。　Well；　he'd　better　keep　his　distance　because　Jon　never　went　anywhere　without　the　twelve…bore　these　days。
　　
　　Sylvia　had　had　her　trip　into　the　village　and　she　had　not　pestered　him　to　go　anywhere　since。　The　place　had　been　deserted；　everybody　gone；　or　perhaps　nobody　had　ever　lived　there　in　the　first　place。　It　was　getting　difficult　trying　to　imagine　a　world　where　there　was　any　kind　of　normality。　Jon　was　getting　used　to　it；　accepting　it　now。
　　
　　The　manual　petrol　pump　at　the　garage　wasn't　working。　He　had　given　up　trying　in　the　end；　decided　that　he　would　have　to　keep　his　half　tank　of　fuel　for　emergencies。　They　had　called　at　the　shop；　found　the　door　swinging　open；　and　gone　inside。　The　shelves　had　been　raided；　bread　and　cakes　taken；　cooked　meat　trodden　into　the　floor；　putrefying。　The　raiders　obviously　didn't　like　processed　meats　but　the　flies　were　enjoying　a　banquet。
　　
　　Jon　filled　the　back　of　the　Land　Rover　with　as　much　canned　and　packeted　foods　as　he　could　find；　emptied　the　biscuit　rack。　Then　on　down　the　narrow　street　to　the　hardware　store。　He　had　to　smash　his　way　in；　found　an　abundance　of　tools；　more　than　enough　to　replace　the　ones　that　he　had　had　stolen。　The　law　of　the　jungle；　steal　and　steal　again。　He　had　often　wondered　idly　what　it　would　be　like　if　law　and　order　broke　down；　now　he　knew。
　　
　　He　thought　about　taking　another　vehicle；　there　were　ample　cars　parked　down　the　street；　but　he　had　decided　he　needed　a　Land　Rover　more　than　anything。　Funny　how　so　often　you　kick　yourself　for　not　thinking　of　something　at　the　time；　he　could　have　syphoned　some　petrol　out　of　one　of　them。　Maybe　next　time；　if　they　ever　went　to　the　village　again。　Since　that　day　he　had　not　had　any　reason　to　use　the　Land　Rover。　They　were　safer　on　the　Hi！！。
　　
　　The　wild　hill…dwellers　knew　that　he　and　Sylvia　were　here　all　right　but　only　that　one　up　on　the　slope　had　persistently　watched　them。　Doubtless；　a　spy。　Maybe　they　thought　the　electric　fence　was　some　kind　of　magic　and　were　keeping　their　distance　but　surely　they　had　cottoned　on　that　it　wasn't　working　any　longer。　That　guy　gave　him　the　creeps。
　　
　　Jon　had　a　harvest　to　get　in　and　even　though　a　lot　of　it　would　be　wasted　he　decided　to　occupy　his　time　reaping　the　rewards　of　work　done　during　the　days　before　all　this　happened。　The　peas　they　could　dry；　the　potatoes　could　be　stored　in　the　old　barn。　He　made　a　clamp　for　parsnips　and　carrots。　The　swedes　could　stop　in　the　ground；　he'd　lift　the　remainder　towards　Christmas　to　feed　the　goats　on。　Christmas？　How　the　hell　would　you　know　when　it　was　Christmas？
　　
　　Sylvia　was　co…operating　now　because　she　did　not　have　any　choice。　There　was　nowhere　to　go　and　he　was　satisfied　that　she　would　not　take　her　own　life。　If　there　was　a　type　then　she　certainly　wasn't　it。　She　was　adapting　slowly。
　　
　　The　calves　had　vanished　one　night　about　a　fortnight　ago；　Jon　had　found　where　they　had　been　killed；　driven　into　a　corner　of　the　field　and　probably　been　clubbed　to　death。　It　didn't　matter　much　because　he　did　not　have　enough　fodder　to　see　them　through　the　ing　winter；　and　as　he　did　not　eat　red　meat　himself　there　was　no　point　in　slaughtering　them。　All　the　same；　he　felt　sorry　for　them　that　they　had　to　die　so　brutally。
　　
　　The　winter　was　going　to　be　the　big　test　for　all　of　them；　mostly　for　the　throwbacks。　If　they　were　going　to　attack　the　holding　they　would　do　it　then　when　they　were　short　of　food　and　their　crude　houses　were　proving　inadequate　against　the　blizzards。　In　the　meantime　they　just　lived　from　day　to　day；　tried　not　to　think　about　tomorrow。　He　just　wished　he　knew　what　had　happened　to　Jackie　though。
　　
　　He　found　himself　looking　up　towards　the　thorn　bushes　again。　There　was　no　sign　of　that　guy　and　for　some　reason　he　felt　more　uneasy　than　usual。
　　
　　Sylvia　had　finished　her　routine　chores；　put