gns.throwback-第24部分

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listen　in　to…all　kinds　of　conversations；　and　he　had　been　the　first　reporter　on　the　scene　of　those　macabre　Muswell　Hill　murders　simply　because　he　had　picked　up　a　snippet　from　a　police　radio。　Illegal；　but　in　Rod's　book　of　rules　the　end　justified　the　means。　You　only　got　the　top　stories　by　sticking　your　neck　out。
　　
　　Radio　broadcasts　continued　for　a　few　days；　national　and　local。　There　was　a　lot　of　confusion　at　first；　the　general　opinion　being　that　the　western　world　had　suffered　a　Soviet　nuclear　attack　but　there　were　no　fireballs；　no　total　destruction　of　populated　areas。　Just　civilisation　gone　berserk。
　　
　　Rod　began　to　pile　his　notes　systematically；　sellotaped　a　large…scale　road　map　to　the　wall；　and　using　red　and　black　ballpoints　formed　an　overall　picture　of　the　state　of　the　UK。
　　
　　The　centre　of　Birmingham　had　been　gutted　by　fire　and　the　inferno　was　still　raging　unchecked；　mostly　spread　by　exploding　petrol　tanks　in　abandoned　vehicles。　Casualties　were　virtually　ignored　because　the　rescue　forces　were　primarily　intent　on　saving　'survivors1。　Mobs　clashed　and　fought　using　weapons　that　created　hideous　injuries；　shards　of　glass　from　broken　shop　windows　and　steel　girders　used　as　battering　rams。　No　petrol　bombs；　gunsmiths'　shops　were　ignored　because　the　significance　of　firearms　was　not　realised。
　　
　　Gunfire　from　the　small　army　patrols　threw　the　rioters　into　a　state　of　terror；　had　them　fleeing　and　trampling　their　own　kind　in　their　stampede　to　escape　the　hail　of　lead。　Yet　the　armed　forces　were　so　outnumbered　that　artillery　counted　for　little；　they　were　not　bent　on　wholesale　slaughter；　only　killing　in　self…defence。　It　transpired　that　there　were　more　survivors　than　one　would　have　thought　possible；　underground　workers；　miners；　and　those　who　had　escaped　for　no　apparent　reason。　The　unprecedented　storms　and　gales　had　been　the　one　reason　why　the　casualty　rate　had　not　been　close　on　100　per　cent。　Freak　weather　of　the　kind　which　brought　about　catastrophes　in　tropical　countries　had　swept　across　the　Atlantic；　wreaking　havoc　but　dispersing　the　micro…organisms　out　into　the　North　Sea。　Otherwise　the　poisoned　atmosphere　might　have　lingered　for　days；　even　weeks。　Now　it　was　gone；　leaving　behind　it　a　civilisation　thrown　back　to　the　state　of　its　early　ancestry。
　　
　　Vehicles　littered　every　street；　fresh　food　stores　were　looted；　but　the　rampagers　were　ignorant　of　canned　or　processed　foodstuffs。　Livestock　were　slaughtered　in　rural　areas。　Disease　would　follow　surely；　for　deposing　corpses　lay　in　their　hundreds　in　every　town　and　city；　it　was　to　be　seen　how　resistant　this　new　species　of　mankind　was。　Starvation　was　inevitable。　Would　they　then　turn　to　cannibalism？
　　
　　The　Royal　Family　had　been　safely　transferred　to　the　top…security　underground　headquarters　in　Hertfordshire。　Helicopters　were　being　used　to　air…lift　survivors　from　urban　areas；　and　'safety　regions'　were　being　set　up　away　from　the　towns；　mostly　fairly　remote　villages　taken　over　by　the　army　with　defences　erected　to　repel　primitive　hostile　forces。　Modern　man　had　to　be　protected　from　the　'throwbacks'　at　all　costs　if　civilisation　was　to　survive。
　　
　　Gradually；　painstakingly；　Rod　Savage　pieced　together　an　overall　picture。　After　radio　transmission　had　petered　out；　and　his　CB　went　dead；　he　had　to　rely　on　forays　into　London　itself。　A　fugitive；　he　dodged　both　the　hate…and　fear…crazed　crowds　as　well　as　the　rescue　patrols。　The　last　thing　he　wanted　was　to　be　forcibly　hauled　out　of　here。　He　would　go　when　he　was　ready　and　not　until。
　　
　　Returning　to　his　basement　refuge　at　night　he　typed　up　his　notes　by　candlelight；　developed　the　photographs　which　he　had　taken。　One　bulging　pseudo…leather　briefcase　contained　the　whole　inside　story　and　he　slept　with　it　in　his　sleeping　bag。
　　
　　The　crowds　were　gradually　leaving　the　city；　dispersing　into　the　home　counties；　an　exodus　from　the　concrete　battlefields　where　flies　swarmed　on　the　bodies　of　the　stain；　where　the　stench　of　death　and　blood　was　overpowering。
　　
　　The　night　he　heard　them　rattling　the　door　of　his　basement　hideout；　Rod　Savage　knew　that　it　was　time　for　him　to　be　leaving；　too。　He　left　the　next　day；　moving　cautiously　along　deserted　streets；　a　fugitive　who　would　bee　a　beast　of　the　chase　if　he　was　spotted；　clutching　his　briefcase　to　him　for　he　owed　its　contents　to　the　remnants　of　a　civilised　society。　It　was　also　worth　an　awful　lot　of　money。
　　
　　It　was　towards　midday　that　he　spied　the　low…flying　helicopter；　managed　to　attract　the　pilot's　attention。　Half　an　hour　later　he　was　gratefully　breathing　in　the　fresh　sweet　Essex　air　of　Roydon；　a　picturesque　village　that　now　resembled　a　fortress；　surrounded　by　barbed…wire　fortifications　and　electric　fences；　the　houses　rehabilitation　centres　for　the　rescued；　shocked　men；　women　and　children　who　were　faced　with　the　task　of　rebuilding　society。　It　was　going　to　be　a　long　process；　perhaps　generations；　always　under　the　threat　of　attack　from　the　wild　tribes　which　inhabited　the　fields　and　hills。
　　
　　Rod　Savage　had　no　intention　of　remaining　here。　The　information　he　was　busily　gathering　was　far　from　plete。　There　was　very　little　news　of　what　was　happening　in　Wales　and　he　was　determined　to　go　back　to　his　cottage　and　find　out。　It　would　be　a　long　and　dangerous　trek；　almost　two　hundred　miles　across　terrain　as　it　might　have　been　thousands　of　years　ago；　with　death　an　everyday　occurrence。
　　
　　He　checked　his　roadmap　again；　the　area　to　the　west　of　the　Midlands　was　virtually　blank；　terra　incognita。　The　borderlands；　hiils　and　tracts　of　moorland　which　would　surely　be　teeming　with　squat　hairy　people　who　had　gone　back　in　time。　But　he　would　go　all　the　same。
　　
　　A　week　later　Rod　left　the　Roydon　camp；　a　POW　making　an　escape　bid；　for　nobody　was　allowed　to　venture　outside　the　perimeter。　He　cut　a　strand　of　barbed…wire；　crawled　on　his　stomach　for　over　a　hundred　yards；　dragging　his　briefcase　with　him。　He　had　had　second　thoughts　about　taking　it　along；　he　might　be　killed；　it　might　get　stolen；　but　nevertheless　it　was　unfinished　work；　his　work；　and；　unlike　his　Falklands　mission；　there　was　nobody　he　could　entrust　it　to。　In　all　probability　he　would　never　return　to　Roydon。　So　he　took　it　with　him。
　　
　　A　warm　moonless　night；　reaching　the　motorway　and　following　the　hard　shoulder；　ready　to　dive　into　the　undergrowth　at　the　first　sign　of　anybody　approaching。　Multiple　crashes；　the　stink　of　rotting　flesh　from　the　victims　who　had　not　been　taken　away。　Carnage；　prowling　foxes　slinking　in　to　feed　on　the　bodies　under　the　cover　of　darkness；　rats　scurrying　in　and　out　of　the　battered　vehicles。
　　
　　This　was　Britain　in　the　eighties；　the　start　of　the　apocalypse；　the　New　Stone　Age。
　　
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　ELEVEN
　　
　　JACKIE　COULD　not　get　the　prisoner　out　of　her　mind　that　night。　She　listened　to　Kuz's　breathing；　knew　that　he　slept　heavily。　Instinctively　she　edged　away　from　him；　afraid　of　him。　So　fierce；　so　possessive；　she　had　witnessed　his　anger　amongst　the　others；　seen　how　he　had　frightened　them　into　subservience。　They　all　lived　in　dread　of　him；　not　so　much　for　what　he　had　done　but　because　of　what　he　might　do。　There　was　no　way　of　guessing　that　until　it　happened；　and　when　it　did　she　hoped　she　wasn't　around。
　　
　　A　new　side　of　him　had　emerged　today　although　she　had　long　been　aware　of　its　existence。　Cruelty！　He　was　more　than　cruel；　sadistic；　enjoyed　inflicting　pain　on　others。　He　hadn't　needed　to　jab　the　prisoner　with　the　sharp　fork　but　he　had　done　it　because　he　liked　doing　it；　had　laughed　behind　his　thick　beard　when　the　other　had　winced；　half　cried　out。　And　she　knew　now　that　he　liked　hurting　her　too。　He　had　done　so　only　a　very　short　time　ago。
　　
　　There　was　no　gentleness　in　Kuz's　advances。　When　lust　was　upon　him　he　took　her；　neither　expected　nor　accepted　any　response。　His　personal　pleasure　was　all　that　mattered　to　him；　she　was　an　object　to　fulfil　his　primitive　desires；　nothing　else。　Her　body　screamed　for　orgasm　but　all　too　often　he　cast　her　roughly　to　one　side　seconds　after　he　had　climaxed。　Let　me　sleep；　woman；　for　I　am　tired。　I　will　teli　you　when　I　need　you　again。
　　
　　That　was　how　it　had　been　tonight。　Kuz　had　sat　up　late　by　the　dying　embers　of　the　fire；　his　clouded　expression　that　of　a　man　who　needed　to　be　alone；　to　think　his　own　thoughts　to　the　exclusion　of　everything　else。　So　she　had　retired　to　bed；　was　almost　asleep　when　he　came　for　her。
　　
　　He　jerked　her　into　wakefulness　by　her　long　hair；　pulled　her　up　into　a　sitting　position　and　by　the　glow　of　the　last　embers　she　saw　his　expression；　twisted　animal　lust　that　transcended　fury。　She　choked　back　a　scream　as　he　dragged　her　down　on　to　the　floor；　threw　her　forcibly　over　into　a　kneeling　position。　My　pleasure；　not　yours；　woman！
　　
　　She　hadn't　been　ready；　tensed　herself　as　he　stabbed　at　her；　knew　it　would　hurt。　It　did。　It　could　have　been　a　roughly　hewn　wooden　dildo　that　bored　into　her；　drew　back；　thrust　again。　And　again。
　　
　　She　would　have　fallen　forward　had　he　not　been　supporting　her；　his　arms　around　her　from　behind　in　a　crushing　grip；　his　fingers　twisting　and　gouging　her　soft　breasts；　pinching　and　scraping；　screwing　up　her　soft　nipples。　But　she　dared　not　cry　out　aloud　for　he　would　surely　have　beaten　her；　perhaps