gns.snakes-第22部分
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copper's one who does his duty even though he's scared to hell； only fools and liars kid themselves。
He looked at the clock on the wall。 Twenty…seven minutes past twelve。 He took a swig of lukewarm coffee； lit another cigarette。 It was no good just rushing blindly out there into the night； he needed to work out some plan of campaign； look what happened to that clever bastard Eversham。 Don't think about him or you won't go。 Or Barbara Brown。 You're different； Ken Aylott； you've got a tidy mind； you plan。
All the facts pointed to the snakes being somewhere in the village。 Well； if the fuckers weren't on the moors or in the fields； and hadn't gone elsewhere （no sightings reported yet apart from scaremongers and those seeking to waste police time）； then they had to be still in the vicinity。 Every garden in the village had been searched； the sandpit and the churchyard （the old disused cemetery adjacent to the current graveyard included）； so logically there wasn't anywhere else left。
It's just a bloody waste of time； you're fooling yourself。 Coward！ You won't know for sure if you don't go out there and look。 And if they're not around you won't be in any danger； will you？ You will have been seen to have done something positive； not just sat here all night on your arse as you're perfectly entitled to do。 Well done； Constable； you didn't find the snakes but at least you did your best。 A fraction of the way towards getting your stripes。
Ken Aylott swallowed the rest of his coffee at one gulp and stood up。 He'd better take a pair of those rubber boots off the heap in the corner； size nines； just to make his feet sweat and stink。 A torch； too。 He thought about a shotgun out of the armoury in the back and decided against it； too many plications if anything went wrong。 The police weren't allowed to arm themselves except on written instructions from the Chief Constable。 I was hunting snakes； sir。 All the other officers carried guns in the daytime。 In the daytime； Constable； but you had no right to be prowling about the village in the dead of night with a gun。 It amounts to armed trespass for which you will be disciplined。 Bloody hell； better leave the gun and play safe。 I'm not out to shoot the snakes or enrage them like Eversham obviously did； I'm only going to try and locate them。 I've discovered their lair； Superintendent； they're in the 。。。 Ken could not for the life of him think where they might be。 It didn't really matter； suffice it that he had had the guts to go out there in the dark； prove himself to himself。
The occasional streetlight broke up the pitch blackness of a summer night； created its own atmosphere of gloom。 Eerie； the night was nowhere near so balmy as it had been a short time ago。 Insects dive…bombed a lamp； seemed intent on kamikaze attacks。 Aylott looked upwards； was aware of a myriad of stars； searched for the moon and detected a silver sliver； barely discernible。 A full moon would have been helpful。 With a torch you felt so vulnerable； gave your movements and position away。
Further down the main street he had to use his flashlight。 Now why the devil hadn't they continued with the street…lighting down here？ The houses were more isolated now； modern dwellings erected after the line of stone…built cottages petered out； but the council had not yet got round to providing full amenities for the occupants。
He shone his beam on the towering rickety church lych…gate； it was a wonder that it had not collapsed years ago； rotting and broken timbers； a half…torn notice of church service times hanging on by a single drawing pin。 When the winds and rain came again （if ever they did） it would be whipped away to lie rotting in the bottom of the cemetery hedgerow。
He decided to check the church； no real reason except that it seemed the logical place to start。 He walked slowly up the weed…covered track； shone his torch from side to side。 A wilderness； even the most recent graves that had not yet had their tombstones erected were being hidden behind a screen of seeding wild willow herb。 There was room for maybe another twenty graves and then the church would have to blow the whistle on burials here unless they obtained permission to dig up the roadside verge。 Full up； book your plot now。 He smiled in the darkness at his humourless joke but all the same he wondered where they would go next。 Stainforth had filled two graveyards in three centuries。 The church authorities would have to find another tract of consecrated ground or else resort to cremation。 There were hundreds more people still left to die in the village。 The snakes could speed up the death toll considerably。
There was no mistaking the four newly dug graves。 He smelled the damp soil that had not yet had time to dry out； sheets of artificial grass vainly trying to hide the morbid excavations。 The day after tomorrow was funeral day； four； one after the other。 Elsie Harrison； Barbara Brown and her child； Eversham； what was left of him。 There'll be more if you don't find the snakes soon； copper。 Shut up； don't think about it。
The church doors were locked； as they should have been； but it was second nature to a policeman to try them。 The wrought…iron latch rattled like the bones of long…dead skeletons turning restlessly in their coffins； echoed inside the church。 Aylott felt uneasy； churches were always disquieting to him； associating them with funerals and with the victims of murderers and road accidents。 And snakes。
He would make sure he was confined to his office on the day of the funerals； for once not objecting to being the Force's stooge； the human telephone answering service for operational headquarters。 You said I was to stay here and look after things； sir。 I don't mind at all。
There would be a big turn…out for the burials； the whole village plus press and TV。 The media would make a big thing of it。 Get your head down over some paperwork； boy； catch up on all that form…filling； and by the time you've finished it will all be over。 Until the snakes strike again。
Perhaps he should have attended church regularly in his youth and then he would not have had this secret disquiet about them。 It wasn't just death； that was routine to a policeman whether it was a nice peaceful pensioner's passing or a gory traffic accident。 It was what happened afterwards； the unnecessary morbid ritual。 Some claimed it was a form of therapy designed to ease the grief of the bereaved。 Aylott believed it was a climax to horror； brought those left behind face to face with the grave。 This is the end； there's nothing else no matter what they try to tell you 。 He had never had any time for the Reverend Philip Emsworth； Stainforth's parson。 Overweight； pink…faced； a flabby handshake and a condescending voice。 A hypocrite if ever there was one； a scrounger of Sunday lunches and afternoon teas； who dodged reality by erecting a pseudo…spiritual barrier； had found his niche in this out…of…the…way village。 But forting words were no defence against killer snakes。
PC Aylott made a slow tour of the cemetery； shone his torch from one moss…covered tombstone to the next。 Christ； some bugger even had a serpent engraved on his stone； a depiction of the Garden of Eden。 That's all I bloody well need。 He shivered； the night air had turned very cold。
Well； the reptiles certainly weren't lying out in this jungle of an unkempt cemetery。 The constable reached the furthest boundary； saw a dilapidated wicket gate that leaned over into an adjoining section of rough ground…the original graveyard。
It was no more than a couple of acres at the most； triangular； bounded by a tall straggling hawthorn hedge that had last been pleached in 1963 and had not been touched since。 Most of the graves went back to the last century； their indecipherable headstones having either been laid flat or fallen over and left that way because in the days when Stainforth Parochial Church Council was able to afford a full…time verger it made mowing easier。 Then came drastic economic cut…backs in the 1970s and both verger and mower were made redundant。 Emsworth took it upon himself to let the old graveyard revert to nature； the hedge； untidy as it was； screened the worst of the wilderness and as the majority of those buried in there had no living relatives left few were likely to plain。 If you can't clear up a mess； hide it； was one of the clergyman's many mottoes。
Aylott did not fancy going in there。 He stood by the remains of the old gate； swinging his torch beam in a wide arc； noted the flattened； tangled growth where the police and army searchers had trodden it down。 There really was not much point in going in there for a second look； now was there？ Not really； but if you're going to check out the sandpit at the far end you'll have to； unless you're going to go back and all the way round by road。 You don't really want to go and shine your torch in those open graves again； do you？…because if you walk by them you'll be pelled to。 The first one's for Elsie Harrison； the second for 。。。
He negotiated the leaning broken gate； snapped another rotten strut with a loud crack。 If
