gns.snakes-第23部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！



　　
　　He　negotiated　the　leaning　broken　gate；　snapped　another　rotten　strut　with　a　loud　crack。　If　those　snakes　are　around　they　will　have　heard　that　for　sure。　But　they　surely　aren't　because　they　would　have　been　found　by　now　if　they　were。　That　was　the　best　piece　of　logic　he　had　e　up　with　all　night　and　it　made　him　feel　an　awful　lot　easier　in　his　disturbed　mind。
　　
　　Through　this　wilderness　that　used　to　be　a　cemetery；　out　into　the　sandpit　and　back　along　the　road　to　the　station；　sorry；　operational　HQ。　I　went　out　on　my　own　and　looked；　sir；　but　I'm　certain　the　snakes　aren't　in　Stainforth。　They've　moved　on　unseen　and　we'll　just　have　to　wait　until　they　turn　up　somewhere。　And　somebody　else　gets　killed。
　　
　　It　was　not　easy　walking　in　there；　the　trampled…down　grass　and　weeds　screening　large　stones　that　you　only　found　when　you　either　stubbed　your　toe　against　them　or　trod　on　them　and　wrenched　your　ankle。　A　hidden　indentation　in　the　ground　threw　PC　Aylott　headlong。　He　cursed；　picked　himself　up；　had　to　retrieve　his　torch　which　had　rolled　away。　Now　this　is　bloody　stupid；　you're　not　proving　anything　either　to　yourself　or　to　anybody　else。　You're　pandering　to　guilt；　trying　to　convince　yourself　that　you're　not　the　bloody　coward　you　thought　you　were。　And　all　the　time　you're　shit…scared。
　　
　　The　sandpit　could　not　be　far　now；　the　hedges　were　beginning　to　angle　towards　the　apex　of　the　graveyard　triangle　and　where　they　met　there　would　be　a　broken…down　stile　and　a　slope　beyond　which　he　would　have　to　negotiate　very　carefully。　Then　it　was　but　a　hundred　yards　or　so　back　to　the　road。　And　safety。
　　
　　His　foot　rested　on　something　flat　and　smooth　beneath　the　grass；　one　of　those　old　tombstones　lying　horizontally；　no　doubt。　He　rested　his　full　weight　on　it　and　felt　it　tilt　like　a　paving　slab　that　had　been　placed　on　uneven　ground。　Well；　it　was　hardly　likely　to　have　been　laid　with　a　spirit…level；　was　it？　It　。。　。
　　
　　Ken　Aylott's　brain　could　not　cope　with　what　happened　next。　A　feeling　like　vertigo；　a　loss　of　balance　and　coordination；　a　sensation　akin　to　stepping　on　to　a　hinged　trapdoor；　aware　of　it　tilting　downwards　beneath　his　feet。　His　logic　screamed　at　him　to　jump　sideways　before　it　was　too　late　but　his　body　refused　to　heed　the　warning。
　　
　　Falling。　A　rush　of　stale　cold　air　came　up　out　of　the　ground　to　meet　him；　and　he　gave　a　strangled　cry　of　terror；　clinging　on　to　his　torch。　Instinctively　he　hunched　his　body；　anticipated　the　bone…jarring　fall；　a　kaleidoscope　of　terrors　jamming　his　crazed　mind；　a　childhood　fear　of　the　dark　was　instantly　released　from　that　corner　of　his　brain　where　it　had　slumbered　for　three　decades；　had　him　screaming　in　infantile　terror。
　　
　　A　cloying　stench　filled　his　nostrils；　the　putrid　suffocating　smell　of　an　airless　place。　And　then　came　impact　and　pain；　the　agony　of　breaking　bones；　gasping　for　air　that　was　putrid；　lying　in　a　crumpled　heap　on　sharp　stones　and　doubting　whether　he　would　ever　be　able　to　move　again。　Crying；　gasping　with　sheer　terror　because　he　could　not　manage　a　second　scream。
　　
　　He　lay　there；　his　body　crunched　up　into　a　tight　ball；　racked　with　pain。　Subconsciously　he　knew　what　had　happened；　an　old　crypt；　the　kind　that　were　popular　in　the　last　century　when　entire　families　were　interred　in　the　same　grave…a　broken　or　loose　stone　that　had　acted　as　a　trapdoor　to　catapult　him　down　into　its　depths。　Oh；　merciful　God；　this　was　a　place　of　the　dead；　hideous　skeletal　remains　。　。　。
　　
　　Somehow　he　was　still　clutching　his　torch　but　he　did　not　want　to　look；　it　was　still　on；　miraculously；　but　he　closed　his　eyes　in　case　he　saw。　He　tasted　blood；　not　a　lot　so　perhaps　he　had　just　bitten　his　lip　or　tongue　in　the　fall。　But　his　leg　was　broken　for　sure；　possibly　both　of　them　because　he　could　not　move　them。　He　gasped　for　breath　and　it　hurt　like　hell。　Broken　ribs；　if　he　tried　to　get　up　he　might　puncture　a　lung。
　　
　　I've　got　to　get　out　of　here！　A　haze　of　pain；　a　red　curtain　before　his　eyes。　I　mustn't　faint；　if　I　pass　out　I　could　lie　here　until　I　die。　Somebody　will　surely　e　looking　for　me　when　the　day　shift　takes　over。　But　they　won't　know　where　to　look；　will　they？
　　
　　He　tried　to　move　his　head；　attempted　to　look　upwards；　desperately　searching　for　a　glimpse　of　those　glittering　stars；　or　that　sliver　of　moon；　anything　that　meant　that　there　was　open　sky　up　above。　Please　。。　。just　one　star。　。。　but　there　were　only　streaks　of　shimmering　red　to　be　seen　in　the　total　blackness　where　there　should　have　been　an　open　square　directly　above。
　　
　　You　mustn't　panic。　Rest　a　bit；　try　to　think。　He　felt　at　his　legs；　bare　bleeding　skin　where　his　trousers　had　been　ripped　and　torn　asunder。　There's　broken　bones　definitely。　Oh　God！
　　
　　Suddenly　he　got　an　awful　feeling　that　he　was　not　alone；　beginning　with　a　prickling　of　the　hairs　on　the　back　of　his　neck。　Don't　be　bloody　stupid；　if　there's　anybody　else　in　here　they've　been　dead　a　very　long　time。　A　heap　of　old　bones　but　they　can't　move　or　hurt　you。
　　
　　Something　definitely　moved；　dislodged　a　trickle　of　small　stones　close　by。　He　jumped；　wanted　to　shine　his　torch　in　the　direction　of　the　noise　but　he　did　not　dare。　If　there's　anything　there　then　I　don't　want　to　see　it。　Rats；　that's　what　it　is；　rodents　are　bound　to　use　these　old　crypts。　Repulsive　but　not　dangerous。
　　
　　His　arms　seemed　to　be　virtually　unscathed。　Perhaps　if　he　could　secure　a　grip　on　something　then　he　could　pull　himself　up；　reach　the　slab　above；　open　it　enough　to　give　him　air；　a　gap　through　which　his　shouts　for　help　might　be　heard。
　　
　　New　hope；　desperation　breeding　determination；　groping　behind　him；　feeling　with　Ms　fingers。　And　that　was　when　he　touched　something；　it　should　have　been　cold　rough　stone；　hard　and　inanimate。　Instead　it　was　rough　and　soft　。　。　。　breathing　and　moving；'
　　
　　He　snatched　his　hand　away　with　an　inarticulate　cry；　could　not　help　himself　from　swinging　his　torch　round；　a　dazzling　white　beam　that　reflected　a　pair　of　tiny　glittering　eyes；　a　long　thick　body　that　ended　over　in　the　shadows　some　yards　away。　Eyes　watching　him　from　every　corner；　pinpoints　of　unwavering　evil。
　　
　　Ken　Aylott's　reason　almost　snapped；　hovered　precariously　on　the　brink　between　sanity　and　madness。　You've　found　'em；　copper；　the　snakes　everybody's　been　searching　for；　holed　up　in　a　derelict　crypt　in　a　disused　churchyard。
　　
　　No；　they　weren't　real；　they　were　a　fevered　nightmare　brought　on　by　the　pain　from　his　injuries。　If　he　closed　his　eyes；　and　then　opened　them　a　few　seconds　later；　they　would　be　gone；　evaporated。　If　there's　anything　there　it's　only　rats　and　I've　got　snakes　on　the　brain。　They　bloody　well　aren't　snakes！
　　
　　He　sensed　them　moving；　heard　their　bodies　dragging　across　the　uneven　floor；　slithering　towards　him。　No；　they　don't　exist；　They　don't　。　。　。
　　
　　Sudden　agony　in　his　leg；　his　whole　body　jerking　up；　pain　that　in　no　way　could　have　e　from　his　fall；　like　a　heated　bradawl　had　been　bored　into　his　flesh；　gouged　a　burning　hole　right　down　to　the　bone。
　　
　　The　policeman　managed　one　long　shriek　of　pain　and　terror；　almost　succeeded　in　standing　on　his　fractured　limbs；　then　fell　backwards。　The　torch　bounced　from　his　hold；　rolled；　and　shone　its　light　back　on　the　awful　scene；　cruelly　showed　Ken　Aylott　everything　he　did　not　want　to　see。　A　3…D　horror　show　in　which　he　was　the　principal　actor。
　　
　　They　were　everywhere；　long　ones；　fat　ones；　thin　ones；　dazzling　deadly　colours　shimmering　in　the　harsh　artificial　light；　sliding　up　to　the　convulsing　human　body；　striking　at　the　exposed　white　flesh。　Fangs　that　dug　deep　and　tore　mercilessly；　drew　blood　and　hungered　for　more。　Darted；　flicked；　speared　him　with　their　poison。
　　
　　Ken　Aylott　watched　his　own　flesh　swell；　bloated　veins　pulsing　with　deadly　venom；　reddening；　purpling。　The　snakes　slid　over　him；　obscene　attacks；　savouring　this　victim　that　had　dropped　obligingly　into　their　lair。　He　felt　their　coldness；　gave　up　any　thoughts　of　escape。　How　long　did　it　take　a　man　to　die　from　a　snakebite？　It　depended　upon　which　species　bit　you。　He　didn't　have　a　chance；　just　wanted　the　end　to　be　quick。
　　
　　I　found　'em；　sir；　when　everybody　else　failed。　Didn't　I？　And　I　won't　get　promotion；　not　even　a　posthumous　award。　They'll　always　remember　me　as　the　copper　who　fucked　up　the　Raglan　case。
　　
　　The　snakes　were　backing　off　him；　a　sudden　withdrawal　that　puzzled　the　dying　policeman　even　in　his　pain…crazed　state。　The　bastards　wanted　to　gloat；　to　watch　him　die；　listen　to　his　pleadings。　They'll　get　you；　make　no　mistake　about　that。　You've　fooled　us　all　for　the　moment　but　they'll　find　you；　they'll　e　with　guns　and　blast　hell　out　of　you。
　　
　　He　could　barely　breathe　now；　as　if　his　lungs　had　given　out；　collapsed；　his　eyes　were　swelling；　restricting　his　vision。　But　he　saw　enough；　enough　to　topple　him　down　into　that　abyss　of　madness；　even　had　him　trying　to　laugh。
　　
　　He　had　wondered　where　the　big　fucker　had　got　to；　the　twenty…foot　python　that　should　have　found　it　impossible　to　hide　out　in　any　tract　of　English　countryside。　Well；　it　was　here　now；　must　have　been　gorged　and　sleeping　off　some　feast　in　the　shadows；　had　missed　out　on　the　action。　Now　it　was　here；　which　was　why　all　the　others　were　keeping　their　dista