gns.throwback-第41部分

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　　The　last　two　jumped；　defiance　in　their　wild　shrieks　as　they　leaped　into　space。　You　found　yourself　listening；　counting；　wincing　in　anticipation　of　the　crunch　far　below。
　　
　　Sergeant　Walters　rose　to　his　feet；　dusted　himself　down；　a　half…smile　on　those　swarthy　features。　'I　guess　that　about　wraps　it　up；　Corporal。'
　　
　　'The　kids；　Sarge　。　。　。'
　　
　　Walters　turned　slowly；　saw　how　the　youngsters　were　bunched　under　that　awning；　half…raised　his　pistol。
　　
　　'We　still　need　more　prisoners；　Sarge。'　The　other's　tone　was　nervous；　his　voice　quavering；　staring　at　the　bloodied　shot…up　corpse　of　Kenny　King；　the　lad　from　Wakefield。　He　had　ended　up　that　way　because　he　couldn't　stomach　massacring　women　and　kids。　And　you　were　the　one　who　shot　him；　Corporal！　They　said　they　needed　kids　as　well。　To　experiment　on。'
　　
　　What　experiments？　Oh；　Jesus　Christ　Alive！
　　
　　'Yeah；　they　do　need　kids。'　Walters　lowered　his　weapon。　'Round　'em　up。　Take　'em　down　and　put　'em　in　the　van　with　the　others。'
　　
　　The　sergeant　noted　with　contempt　the　way　some　of　the　rookies　moved　to　carry　out　his　orders。　Fuck　'em；　they　weren't　paid　to　think；　to　reason。　Just　to　obey。　He　watched　the　way　they　took　the　children　down　the　ramp；　almost　reluctantly。　We　don't　want　to　do　this　to　you　but　if　we　don't　then　we'll　be　court…martialled。　They're　the　enemy；　you　fuckers；　prisoners…of…war。　And　when　we　get　'em　back　to　base　in　Hertfordshire　they're　going　to　be　guinea　pigs；　injected　with　Christ…knows…what。　They'll　either　live　or　die；　they've　got　two　choices；　'Hurry　along　there；　you　lot。　We　don't　have　all　day。'
　　
　　The　sergeant's　stomach　knotted；　felt　like　he'd　got　an　appendicitis　ing　on。　He　couldn't　have；　though；　because　he'd　had　his　appendix　out；　peritonitis　when　he　was　a　rookie；　like　this　rabble；　on　the　Rhine。　That　kid　had　e　close　to　chopping　him；　a　matter　of　a　second；　maybe　two。　He'd　buy　the　corporal　a　drink　in　the　Mess　tonight。　Or　maybe　he　wouldn't；　the　others　might　see　it　as　a　sign　of　weakness。　You　saved　a　colleague　because　it　was　your　duty；　and　for　no　other　reason。　He'd　do　the　same　for　any　of　them　and　not　feel　anything　personal；　just　see　that　it　went　down　on　record。
　　
　　On　the　drive　back　he　would　scribble　out　his　report　Just　a　brief　encounter：　attacked　by　the　enemy　hurling　cars　off　a　rooftop；　fought　to　the　last。　The　corporal　would　countersign　it。　And　if　any　of　those　fucking　rookies　had　anything　to　say　they　would　be　court…martialled。　The　country　was　in　a　State　of　Emergency；　you　couldn't　afford　to　be　squeamish。　Soldiers　were　trained　for　battle；　and　in　battle　you　killed　the　enemy。
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　EIGHTEEN
　　
　　DON'T　TOUCH　me；　Jon；　please！
　　
　　Sylvia　tensed；　every　nerve　in　her　body　rigid；　tried　to　think　of　a　plausible　reason　which　she　could　put　into　words。　I've　got　a　headache。　Husbands　had　given　up　believing　that　one　twenty　years　ago。　It's　the　wrong　time　of　the　month；　he　knew　already　that　it　wasn't。　I'm　too　tired。　She'd　once　told　him　that　sex　was　better　when　you　were　tired　because　you　were　more　relaxed。
　　
　　She　bit　her　lip；　resisted　the　urge　to　knock　his　hand　away。　Please　don't　touch　me。　I　don't　want　you；　I　want　my　own　husband　back　because　he's　out　there　in　the　dark　and　cold。　Alive。　Oh　God；　Eric's　alive。'
　　
　　Jon　wanted　her　tonight　and　there　was　no　way　short　of　a　determined　physical　resistance　that　she　was　going　to　stop　him。　She　groaned；　eased　her　legs　apart。　Shut　your　eyes　and　think　of　England。　No；　think　of　Eric。
　　
　　It　was　Eric　in　the　darkness　of　her　bed。　It　had　to　be；　everything　else　had　just　been　a　bad　dream。　No；　it　wasn't　Eric's　feel；　not　his　way。　Her　mind　flipped　back　to　the　other　morning　and　suddenly　her　whole　body　began　to　prickle　and　tingle。　There　had　been　no　fear　because　it　was　Eric　ail　right。　Not　even　rape　because　she　had　been　more　than　willing。　So　strong；　so　fierce；　every　thrust　so　meaningful。
　　
　　Jon　was　lying　with　his　full　weight　on　top　of　her　now。　His　naked　flesh　was　repulsively　smooth；　his　strength　barely　that　of　a　callow　youth。　She　turned　her　head　away；　tried　to　avoid　his　lips。　Screw　me　then　and　get　it　over　with；　let　me　be　back　with　Eric。
　　
　　No　way　was　she　going　to　make　it　to　an　orgasm。　She　let　him　ride　her；　her　feelings　beginning　to　slip　away　like　a　piece　of　driftwood　going　out　with　an　ebbing　tide。　Sobbing　softly　to　herself。　Oh；　Eric；　I　want　you。　I　don't　care　what　they've　done　to　you；　I　just　want　to　be　with　you。
　　
　　j3imly　she　was　aware　that　they　were　no　longer　coupled；　that　he　was　lying　facing　away　from　her。　Oh　how　I　hate　you；　Jon　Quinn。　This　is　all　your　fault。　If　it　wasn't　for　you　I　wouldn't　be　here　now；　I　would　be　out　there　with　Eric；　like　him
　　
　　Her　mind　was　made　up。　She　would　go　to　her　husband。　Not　now；　maybe　not　tomorrow。　But　before　the　winter　set　in　and　trapped　her　here　with　this　man　who　only　wanted　her　body。
　　
　　Day　after　day　Eric　Atkinson　had　squatted　up　on　that　slope　watching　the　smallholding　below　him；　virtually　an　aerial　view；　the　cottage　a　matchbox　house；　the　two　people　dots　which　he　scarcely　recognised。　Only　the　woman。
　　
　　He　had　moved　further　back　up　the　slope　almost　to　the　fringe　of　the　big　forest。　Fear　ate　into　him　day　by　day；　the　knowledge　that　the　hairless　male　had　the　means　to　kill　him　instantly　if　he　got　close　enough；　indeed　he　had　almost　done　so　already。　He　saw　him　shoot　a　rabbit　on　the　edge　of　the　patch　of　ground　where　he　grew　his　vegetables。　Unbelievable；　terrifying。
　　
　　The　coney　had　been　grazing　a　row　of　cabbages；　had　not　heard　the　man's　approach。　Its　ears　went　up　and　it　bounded　away；　a　blur　of　grey　at　full　speed。
　　
　　Bang！
　　
　　The　report　echoed；　the　hills　taking　it　up；　magnifying　it。　Atkinson　started；　almost　fell　back；　clutched　at　his　ears　trying　to　shut　it　out。
　　
　　Bang。　Ba。。ng。。。ba。。aaa。。。ng。　Like　thunder　rolling　before　a　storm。　But　he　could　not　take　his　eyes　off　the　scene　below。　The　rabbit　stopped　as　surely　as　if　it　had　run　into　an　invisible　barrier；　rolled　over　on　to　its　back；　the　white　of　its　belly　uppermost；　legs　kicking；　the　motions　growing　weaker　and　weaker　until　finally　it　was　still。
　　
　　The　man　walked　forward；　not　hurrying^　confident；　the　death…stick　cradled　under　one　arm；　reached　down　and　retrieved　the　dead　creature　by　its　back　legs；　carried　it　back　towards　the　house。
　　
　　Eric　watched　him　until　he　disappeared　inside。　Still　heard　the　killing　sound。
　　
　　Bang。。　。baa…ng。。。
　　
　　The　same　would　happen　to　him　if　he　ventured　too　close　to　the　building。　The　other　had　already　tried　to　kill　him　once。　He　could　run　now；　escape；　leave　this　place。　He　would　have　done　so　had　it　not　been　for　the　woman。　His　woman。
　　
　　Instead　he　would　watch　and　wait　from　up　here。　Incapable　of　forming　any　other　plan；　he　could　think　of　nothing　else。

　　
　　The　days　were　shorter；　colder。　The　leaves　had　begun　to　fall　from　the　trees　leaving　the　branches　stark；　no　longer　a　protection　against　the　chill　westerly　winds；　and　the　dense　bracken　lay　brown　and　flattened　by　the　rain　and　sleet　storms。
　　
　　Eric　had　attempted　to　make　himself　a　shelter　out　of　dead　branches　and　bracken　because　the　thorn　bushes　no　longer　shielded　him　from　the　elements。　He　had　worked　on　it　for　a　whole　day　and　that　night　a　gale　had　demolished　it。　He　would　have　to　move　on　up　to　the　forest；　find　himself　a　place　amongst　the　thick　firs。　The　idea　did　not　appeal　to　him。　The　forest　was　alive　at　night；　wild　dogs　that　howled　and　bayed　as　they　hunted　their　prey。　And　people　who　had　moved　up　here　crept　stealthily　through　the　trees　and　fled　at　the　first　sign　of　a　stranger。　He　did　not　seek　any　pany　other　than　his　own　and　that　of　the　woman　down　below。
　　
　　He　was　permanently　hungry　too。　The　wild　fruit　was　being　mildewed　and　sour　and　he　was　having　to　rely　almost　solely　on　rowan　berries。　He　had　long　since　given　up　setting　deadfall　rock　traps　for　rabbits　because　it　was　a　waste　of　time。　He　never　caught　anything。
　　
　　Grey　skies　stretched　to　the　furthermost　hills　and　beyond；　low　cloud　that　brought　hill…fog　and　fine　drizzle。　He　shivered；　knew　that　he　would　have　to　go　into　the　forest。　First；　though；　he　had　to　find　some　food　of　a　more　substantial　nature。
　　
　　During　the　summer　months　he　had　feaste