gns.throwback-第43部分

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　　It　was　daylight　when　he　awoke；　a　sort　of　daylight。　Grey　drizzly　fog　pervaded　the　damp　forest；　dripped　steadily　off　the　branches。　A　crow　was　calling　harshly　a　short　distance　away。
　　
　　Eric's　pain　was　worse；　his　arm　thick　and　swollen；　red　with　poison。　He　didn't　want　to　look　at　it。　He　wouldn't；　he　would　go　and　find　。。。　he　couldn't　remember　her　name；　the　woman　who　was　his　mate。　She　would　soothe　him；　bathe　his　infection　with　cool　fresh　water。
　　
　　He　tried　to　get　to　his　feet；　almost　made　it　then　fell　back　again；　almost　blacked　out。　He　grunted；　tried　to　shout　but　only　a　hoarse　whisper　came　from　his　parched　throat。
　　
　　And　that　was　when　his　fear　really　hit　him。　Fear　of　the　unknown；　a　dark　forest　world　where　fierce　tribes　hunted　and　animals　roamed　in　search　of　easy　prey。　Worse　than　that；　the　loner　was　afraid　of　being　alone。
　　
　　You　're　going　to　die！
　　
　　The　will　to　survive　was　weaker；　nothing　left　to　fight　with。　It　had　been　a　long　gruelling　search　and　it　had　proved　futile。　The　woman　was　not　far　away；　even　now　he　scented　her；　but　his　strength　was　failing。　He　whimpered　softly；　closed　his　eyes。
　　
　　He　was　going　to　die。
　　
　　Sylvia　had　made　up　her　mind　to　go　to　Eric。　Tonight。　She　could　not　leave　him　out　there　any　longer。　For　two　whole　days　now　she　had　not　caught　sight　of　him　because　the　tops　of　the　hills　had　been　shrouded　by　low　cloud。　He　might　not　still　be　up　there。　On　the　other　hand　he　might。　She　had　to　go　and　see。
　　
　　For　once　Jon　did　not　fall　asleep　the　moment　he　got　into　bed。　Damn　him；　tonight　of　all'nights　he　would　choose　to　be　restless。　She　thought　for　one　awful　moment　that　he　might　be　in　the　mood　for　love；　would　have　yielded　to　him　just　to　get　it　over　with　and　then　perhaps　he　would　go　to　sleep。　But　no；　he　was　in　a　talkative　mood。
　　
　　'There's　an　awful　lot　of　them　moved　up　into　the　hills。'　He　had　remembered　to　bring　the　shotgun　upstairs　tonight。　'I　counted　one　lot　of　at　least　fifty。　Funny　thing；　they　didn't　all　seem　to　be　together；　rather　small　groups　which　had　met　up；　just　happened　to　be　travelling　the　same　route。　It　looks　to　me　like　they're　going　to　winter　in　the　forest。　Well；　there　certainly　won't　be　much　in　the　way　of　food　up　there　for　them。　I　heard　some　shooting；　too；　sounded　in　the　direction　of　the　village。　I'm　just　wondering　if　the　army's　constantly　moving　them　on；　trying　to　drive　them　to　outlying　areas　whilst　they　try　and　get　things　back　to　normal。'
　　
　　Things　will　never　be　normal　again。'　She　laughed　bitterly。　'How　can　they？'　Just　look　what　they've　done　to　my　Eric。　Christ；　I　wish　they'd　done　it　to　me；　too。　It　would　solve　a　lot　of　problems。
　　
　　'I　reckon　there've　got　to　be　more　survivors　than　we　think；'　he　answered　her。　'Damn　it；　it　would　take　hundreds　of　germ　bombs　to　destroy　a　whole　country　the　size　of　Britain。　The　Continent；　the　States；　you've　got　an　even　better　chance　of　dodging　the　germs　there。　All　we　can　do　is　sit　tight；　hold　on　and　wait。'
　　
　　You　can；　Jon。　Me；　I'm　going　out　there　and　even　if　I　don't　find　Eric　I'd　sooner　die　than　go　on　living　like　a　prisoner；　not　knowing　when　you're　going　to　be　attacked。
　　
　　His　conversation　dwindled　and　she　could　tell　he　was　being　drowsy。　At　length　his　breathing　became　regular　and　she　knew　he　was　asleep。
　　
　　Cautiously　she　slid　off　the　bed；　crawled　on　her　hands　and　knees　towards　the　bedroom　door；　stopped　every　time　a　floorboard　creaked。　But　he　didn't　waken。　Down　the　stairs；　dressing　in　the　living…room。　She　wouldn't　need　anything　except　a　torch。　Eric　would　surely　have　some　food　and　if　not　then　perhaps　she　could　persuade　him　to　acpany　her　to　a　deserted　cottage　or　farmhouse　where　there　was　sure　to　be　an　abundance；　these　throwbacks　didn't　understand　what　packaged　food　was。
　　
　　She　let　herself　out　into　the　night；　clicked　the　door　softly　shut　behind　her。
　　
　　And　that　was　when　she　saw　them。　And　they　had　seen　her；　too！
　　
　　The　throwbacks　were　in　the　yard；　ten　or　fifteen　of　them；　an　ominous　semi…circle　of　them　stealthily　closing　in　on　the　cottage；　surrounding　it。　Stooped　creatures　that　would　have　seemed　more　natural　walking　on　all…fours；　every　one　of　them　carrying　some　kind　of　improvised　weapon；　scythes；　pitchforks；　clubs。
　　
　　Sylvia　froze；　cringed。　Searching　their　bearded　squat　faces；　they　all　looked　the　same　in　the　faint　starlight；　might　all　have　been　cast　from　the　same　mould。　They　stopped；　watching　her。
　　
　　She　fought　to　make　her　vocal　cords　work；　struggling　to　get　words　out　and　when　finally　she　succeeded　all　that　she　managed　was　a　hoarse　frightened　whisper。　'Eric　。　。　。　are　you　there；　Eric？'
　　
　　No　answer。　No　movement。　Staring　at　her；　eyes　narrowed　as　though　they　suspected　a　trap。　Shuffling　forward　a　few　paces；　stopping　again。
　　
　　Sylvia　screamed；　a　long　shriek　of　sheer　terror；　and　in　that　instant　movement　returned　to　her　limbs。　Panicking；　turning　back；　her　fingers　struggling　with　the　heavy　door　handle；　slipping；　unable　to　secure　a　grip　and　turn　it。　Pulling；　pushing；　knowing　that　they　were　ing　for　her；　smelling　their　rancid　animal　odour。　Eric　wasn't　amongst　them；　he　wasn't　like　this'；　he　would　not　hurt　her。
　　
　　She　screamed　again；　an　inarticulate　yell；　tugging　at　the　door。　Don't　touch　me；　you　brutes。　'Jon　。　。　。　Jon！'
　　
　　And　then　she　felt　their　grip；　claw…like　fingers　digging　into　her　arms　and　shoulders；　dragging　her　out　of　the　porch；　lifting　her　up；　carrying　her。　She　struggled；　kicked　until　they　grabbed　her　legs；　grunted　their　surprise　and　lust　at　finding　one　so　unlike　themselves。　Curiosity；　others　crowding　round；　prodding　at　her；　hurting　her；　starting　to　tear　her　clothes。
　　
　　She　almost　passed　out。　They　would　rape　her；　maybe　kill　her　when　they　had　finished　with　her。　Perhaps　they　had　already　murdered　Eric；　he　would　not　let　them　do　this　to　her。
　　
　　Sobbing　softly；　her　eyes　closed　because　she　could　not　bear　to　look；　wanted　to　die　now　and　get　it　all　over；　there　was　nothing　left　to　live　for。　Kill　me；　please1。
　　
　　Suddenly　there　was　a　deafening　explosion；　an　ear…splitting　report　that　ripped　through　her；　a　vivid　flash　that　she　saw　even　with　her　eyes　closed。　A　sensation　of　falling；　hitting　the　ground；　lying　there；　not　understanding；　not　wanting　to。　Oh　God；　I　want　to　die；　please　let　me　be　dead。
　　
　　A　second　explosion　and　then　she　heard　her　captors　screaming；　primitive　cries　of　pain　and　fear。　Opened　her　eyes；　saw　but　did　not　understand。　One　of　them　was　lying　on　the　ground；　a　still；　crumpled　form　from　which　blood　poured　out　of　innumerable　wounds。　Surely　he　was　dead。　Two　others；　bleeding　but　still　upright；　whimpering；　pawing　at　their　bodies　in　shocked　amazement。　The　rest　were　running；　howling。
　　
　　'Sylvia　。　。　。　Sylvia　are　you　all　right？'
　　
　　She　recognised　Jon's　voice；　got　to　her　knees。　A　sliver　of　orange　light　played　on　her；　momentarily　dazzled　her。　A　torch；　ing　from　an　upstairs　window。
　　
　　Two　more　loud　reports。　She　recognised　the　stabbing　flames　of　a　shotgun　blast；　screamed　as　she　saw　the　two　wounded　throwbacks　stagger；　clutch　at　their　faces。　Oh　Jesus　God；　they　didn't　have　faces　any　longer；　just　scarlet　bloody　mulch；　their　screams　drowned　by　the　blood　that　spouted　from　where　their　mouths　had　been　seconds　before。　They　hit　the　ground；　did　not　move　again。
　　
　　Sylvia　knelt　there；　tried　not　to　think；　heard　the　door　opening；　Jon's　bare　feet　running　across　the　yard。　Smelled　the　sharp　tang　of　burned　gunpowder；　coughed　and　was　almost　sick。
　　
　　'Sylvia。　。　。Sylvia。　。　。'Still　holding　the　gun；　helping　her　to　her　feet　with　his　free　hand。　'Are　you　OK？'
　　
　　'I'm　all　right。'　The　words　came　instinctively；　a　habit　of　civilised　society。　Somebody　asked　you　how　you　were　and　you　said　you　were　OK　even　if　you　were　ill。　Polite　conversation　because　nobody　was　really　interested　in　your　health。
　　
　　This　was　neither　the　time　nor　the　place　for　formalities；　though。
　　
　　He　was　helping　her　back　to　the　house；　supporting　her　weight；　moving　backwards　so　that　he　did　not　have　to　turn　his　back　on　the　dark　night；　holding　the　heavy　twelve…bore　one…handed。
　　
　　He　kicked　open　the　door；　bundled　her　through；　slammed　it　behind　him　and　forced　the　key　to　turn。　Then　he　shone　the　torchlight　on　her；　r