gns.throwback-第36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！


d　before　he　joined　up　who　had　looked　very　similar　to　this　one。　It　might　even　have　been　her　lying　there　in　that　spreading　pool　of　blood。　A　chance　in　several　millions。　He　hoped　it　wasn't。　You　bastard；　Walters；　you　didn't　have　to　kill　her！
　　
　　'Aren't　we　supposed　to　be　taking　prisoners；　Sarge？'　A　tall　sallow…faced　soldier　asked　the　question　that　everybody　was　thinking。'I　mean　。　。　。'wishing　suddenly　that　he　hadn't　voiced　his　thoughts；　'that　is　。　。　。'
　　
　　'You　take　your　orders　from　me；　Private。'　Walters　wheeled　and　for　a　second　the　swinging　barrel　of　the　pistol　took　in　all　of　them。　ll　said　fire　at　will　because　those　fucking　animals　up　there　are　fighting　backV　They　don't　have　any　business　trying　to　drop　cars　on　us。　They　should　run　the　moment　they　see　us　ing。　'Anybody　not　obeying　orders　will　be　court…martialied　when　we　get　back　to　base。　Get　it；　all　of　you　lousy　fuckers？'　They　all　nodded　because　they　didn't　have　any　option。
　　
　　Up　there；　above　them　on　the　top　elevation；　was　a　group　of　very　frightened　people；　people　who　had　once　been　ordinary　peace…loving　folks　now　horrifically　transformed　into　primitive　Man　by　terrible　germs　released　into　the　atmosphere；　were　now　trapped　like　rabbits　in　a　dead…end　burrow。　They　could　be　taken　alive　but　Walters　didn't　want　it　that　way。　He　was　glorying　in　a　one…sided　battle；　lusting　for　a　massacre。　In　a　way　perhaps　the　poor　wretches　would　be　better　off　dead。　Kenny　King　was　sure　he　would　throw　up　before　it　was　all　over。　Afterwards　he　might　even　desert　at　the　first　opportunity。
　　
　　The　second　and　third　storeys　were　devoid　of　life。　So　was　the　fourth。　Only　the　fifth　remained　now　and　they　were　up　there　all　right。　The　soldiers　could　hear　them　as　they　fanned　out　into　an　arrow…shaped　formation　and　began　to　ascend　the　steep　sloping　concrete　ramp。　Textbook　perfection　in　their　approach；　ready　to　unleash　a　hail　of　fire　at　the　first　sign　of　trouble。
　　
　　Kenny's　eyes　focused　on　the　sergeant's　broad　green　and　brown　blotched　camouflaged　back。　You　bastard！
　　
　　A　crash　from　far　below；　muffled；　lingering　like　the　sound　of　a　coin　tossed　into　a　deep　wishing…well。　Another　car　had　gone　over　the　wall。　And　then　the　floor　levelled　out　on　to　a　giant　sunlit　balcony；　a　line　of　cars　on　either　side。　The　top　elevation　and　the　throwbacks　were　right　here。
　　
　　Seven　or　eight　of　them　were　struggling　to　lift　a　Ford　Escort　up　on　to　the　rampart；　powerful　muscles　bulging　as　they　took　the　strain。　Some　more　were　dragging　out　a　Metro。　All　had　their　backs　towards　the　oning　soldiers　except　a　bunch　of　children　who　huddled　together　beneath　an　awning。
　　
　　No！　Kenny　King　felt　every　scrap　of　decency　and　fair　play　in　him　rebel。　Helpless　youngsters　ranging　from　five　to　possibly　ten；　they　could　have　been　mistaken　for　trained　chimpanzees　at　a　cursory　glance；　hairy　creatures　who　were　busily　filling　an　empty　ice…cream　tub　with　sand　and　unsuccessfully　trying　to　make　a　castle　from　it　on　the　concrete　floor。　Each　time　it　crumbled；　powdered；　and　they　tried　again。
　　
　　Kenny　didn't　care　any　more；　didn't　want　to　be　any　part　of　this。　Something　inside　him　took　over；　had　him　rushing　forward　with　pistol　raised；　marksman…style；　trained　on　the　back　of　Sergeant　Walters。　'No；　you're　not　going　to　murder　them。　I　won't　let　you。　I。　。　。'
　　
　　A　shot　rang　out。　Walters　should　have　died　instantly　because　the　young　rookie　was　already　taking　a　trigger　pressure；　hesitating　at　the　last　second　because　that　same　spark　of　decency　which　had　hurled　him　forward　was　also　quavering；　a　fleeting　flash　of　conscience　that　said；　*You　can't　shoot　a　man　in　the　back。　You　can't　take　human　life！'
　　
　　The　slug　fired　by　the　corporal　close　behind　took　Kenny　in　the　back　of　the　head；　tore　a　jagged　hole　through　his　skull　and　spewed　brains　and　blood　out　of　his　forehead；　threw　him　forward　so　that　when　his　own　pistol　exploded　the　bullet　flew　harmlessly　into　the　air。
　　
　　Walters　dropped　to　his　knees。　A　glance　behind　him　told　him　the　whole　story；　he　had　seen　it　before；　it　would　happen　again；　a　boy's　nerve　giving　out；　an　animal　gone　berserk　and　having　to　be　put　down。
　　
　　The　throwbacks　turned；　the　Escort　started　to　slip。　One　of　them　wasn't　quick　enough；　screamed　as　it　rolled　over　on　to　him。　The　others　scattered；　found　themselves　caught　up　in　a　hail　of　pistol　and　rifle　fire。　A　blonde　bearded　male　crumpled　up；　clutching　at　his　stomach；　was　dead　before　he　rolled　over。　Another　had　his　throat　torn　out　as　though　it　had　been　savaged　by　a　fierce　dog。
　　
　　The　soldiers　alongside　Sergeant　Walters　were　lying　on　their　stomachs　firing；　those　directly　behind　him　kneeling；　the　rear　ones　shooting　from　a　standing　position。
　　
　　Seven　or　eight　dead　lay　in　the　foreground；　the　rest　leaping　up　on　to　the　rampart；　running　agilely　along　it。　More　shooting；　a　fairground　game　now；　you　collect　your　prize　when　they're　all　down。
　　
　　Only　three　left；　stopping　because　there　was　nowhere　else　to　run。　Sitting　ducks。　A　single　shot　and　the　far　one　crumpled。　Two　to　go。　It　was　target　practice　now。
　　
　　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。　S