gns.throwback-第51部分

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　　He　hit　her　dead　centre　with　the　Land　Rover；　the　speedometer　needle　flickering　on　35；　a　crunching　impact　that　slewed　the　vehicle　sideways　on；　sprawled　her　across　the　bonnet；　gushing　blood　like　a　burst　flagon　of　claret。　Reitze　jammed　on　his　brakes；　threw　the　Land　Rover　into　a　390…degree　spin　and　threw　her　off　into　the　road。　Then　he　went　over　her　with　the　nearside　front　wheel；　caught　her　with　the　rear　one　as　well。　He　didn't　even　glance　in　his　mirror　because　he　had　spied　some　more　throwbacks　further　up　the　lane。
　　
　　They　ran　for　the　bank；　floundered　in　the　snow　and　had　to　grab　hawthorn　branches　in　the　hedge　to　save　themselves　from　sliding　back　down。　Suspended　up　there　they　thought　they　were　safe。　The　Professor　cruised　slowly　forward；　slid　to　a　stop　fifteen　yards　from　them。　Slowly；　deliberately；　he　picked　up　the　rifle　and　climbed　out。　There　was　nowhere　they　could　go；　it　was　easier　than　the　kids'　airgun　gallery　at　the　fairground。
　　
　　Five　of　them；　he　took　the　furthest　first；　a　teenage　girl；　disintegrated　her　features　with　a　dum…dum　bullet；　transferred　his　sights　to　the　second　and　blew　out　his　jugular　vein　so　that　bright　scarlet　blood　sprayed　technicolour　patterns　all　down　the　snow…capped　hedge。　The　third　had　turned　his　back　so　Reitze　blasted　his　spine；　sent　him　writhing　down　the　slope。
　　
　　The　last　two　jumped　for　it；　gave　him　sporting　shots　as　they　ran　and　slipped　on　the　ice。　He　missed　for　the　first　time；　broke　a　leg　at　the　second　attempt；　scored　a　direct　head　shot　on　the　fifth　one。
　　
　　Four　dead；　one　flaying　about。　He　climbed　back　in　the　Land　Rover；　edged　it　forward　in　low…ratio。　He　aimed　the　offside　front　wheel　for　the　head；　felt　it　crunch　and　split；　bumped　over　the　trunk　with　the　back　tyres；　split　the　abdomen　like　a　squashed　haggis。
　　
　　Half　a　mile　further　on　he　saw　the　big　wood；　knew　there　would　be　some　of　them　in　there　but　he　would　have　to　leave　the　Land　Rover　and　go　on　foot；　hoped　he　had　the　strength　to　clamber　over　those　huge　drifts。　The　fuckers　would　be　in　that　wood　all　right。
　　
　　Only　his　obsession　kept　him　going。　He　was　breathing　heavily；　spitting　blood　all　the　time；　and　his　heart　was　trying　to　hammer　its　way　out　of　his　body。　It　took　him　nearly　half　an　hour　to　make　it　to　the　wood。
　　
　　Huge　trees；　mostly　oaks；　a　few　dead　leaves　still　clinging　stubbornly　to　their　branches。　Rhododendrons　were　virtually　the　only　cover；　that　was　where　he　would　find　the　bastards　skulking；　flush　them　out　as　if　he　was　hunting　rabbits　for　sport。　It　was　sport。
　　
　　It　was　the　blood　that　gave　them　away；　thick　dark　lung…blood；　a　trail　of　it　leading　up　to　a　dense　patch　of　bushes；　maybe　fifty　metres　square。　Reitze　leaned　up　against　the　trunk　of　an　oak；　the　rifle　resting　in　the　crook　of　his　arm。　They　were　in　there；　all　right；　skulking　like　the　animals　they　were。　Getting　them　out　was　the　only　problem　。　。　。
　　
　　He　thought　about　it；　thinking　didn't　e　easy　these　days。　He　found　the　Camel　packet　in　his　pocket；　just　one　left。　Just　one。　He　straightened　it　out；　rolled　it　between　his　fingers。　Just　one　small　white　cylinder　of　paper　packed　with　rich　dark　tobacco。　He　sniffed　it；　it　smelted　sweet。　He　would　in　all　probability　never　smoke　another　after　this　one　because　he　wasn't　going　back。　He　put　it　to　his　lips；　flicked　his　lighter；　drew　the　smoke　down　deep　into　his　diseased　lungs；　sent　himself　into　a　fierce　coughing　fit。
　　
　　They　would　know　he　was　here　now；　but　it　didn't　matter。　Jesus；　he　wanted　the　fuckers　to　know　what　they　were　in　for。　An　idea；　but　the　deep　snow　made　it　impracticable；　if　it　had　been　summer　he　could　have　set　fire　to　the　whole　wood；　stood　downwind　and　waited。　Get　roasted　or　shot；　you　fuck　pigs；　it's　up　to　you！　But　it　wasn't　summer　and　no　way　was　he　going　to　be　able　to　fire　the　wood。　Shit！
　　
　　The　hunter；　it　gave　him　a　sense　of　pride；　Man's　superiority　over　animals。　They　were　in　there　crapping　themselves　because　they　didn't　know　how　to　escape　him。　Well；　there　was　only　one　way　to　get　them…he　would　go　in　there　after　them！
　　
　　Moving　slowly；　unsteadily；　his　rubber　boots　slipping　on　the　snow。　Parting　the　outer　trailing　branches　of　the　bushes　and　peering　inside。　Much　darker　in　here；　even　the　snow　had　only　penetrated　in　places。
　　
　　Something　rustled。　The　rifle　came　up　to　Professor　Reitze's　shoulder；　bucked。　A　bullet　cut　through　the　foliage；　whined；　embedded　itself　in　the　trunk　of　a　silver　birch。　Then　silence。
　　
　　Reitze　stood　there　listening；　sweat　streaming　down　his　face。　There　should　have　been　panic；　throwbacks　stampeding　everywhere　at　the　sound　of　the　shot；　screaming　with　terror。　But　there　was　nothing；　not　even　a　protesting　crow　insulting　him　from　a　distant　tree。　It　made　him　uneasy。
　　
　　He　stepped　forward；　rifle　at　the　ready。　God；　it　was　heavy；　made　his　arms　ache。　More　blood　here；　he　quickened　his　pace；　had　to　stoop　beneath　the　twisting　rhododendron　trailers；　peering　into　every　dark　recess。　So　quiet。
　　
　　A　sudden　noise　had　him　whirling　round；　forefinger　taking　a　trigger　pressure。　Just　dislodged　snow　falling。　Nothing　else。
　　
　　He　came　to　a　birch　tree；　had　to　rest　for　a　moment；　leaning　up　against　it。　Only　then　was　he　aware　of　the　cigarette　butt　scorching　his　lips；　leaned　forward　and　spat　it　out　into　a　patch　of　snow；　saw　how　the　nicotine…soaked　paper　was　pink。　Trying　not　to　cough　in　case　it　gave　his　position　away；　a　heaving　of　his　lungs　that　eventually　threw　up　stringy　phlegm。　He　turned　his　head　away；　didn't　want　to　see。　His　strength　was　failing　fast；　he　had　to　find　them　soon。
　　
　　A　lot　more　blood　now；　they　couldn't　be　far　away。　He　would　e　to　the　end　of　the　rhododendrons　soon；　the　beasts　of　the　chase　hugging　every　last　scrap　of　cover　until　there　was　no　more　left。　Then　they　would　be　forced　out　into　the　open。　Six　。。。　eight。。。　ten　。。。　a　dozen　of　them；　firing　as　fast　as　he　could　pull　the　trigger；　using　his　remaining　strength　and　sheer　will　power　to　work　the　bolt。　Bodies　falling；　convulsing；　lying　still。　That　was　how　it　would　be；　there　could　not　be　any　other　oute。　His　whole　body　trembled　with　anticipation；　somehow　found　that　extra　reserve　of　strength　to　keep　going。
　　
　　And　then　at　last　he　found　them；　a　big　bunch　of　them；　twenty　at　least；　in　a　wide　clearing　amidst　the　dense　bushes；　men；　women　and　children。　A　strewn　litter　of　bodies；　corpses！
　　
　　It　took　some　time　for　Reitze　to　realise；　to　accept；　that　they　were　all　dead。　He　did　not　want　to　believe　it；　wanted　them　alive；　fleeing；　shrieking　their　terror　as　he　cut　them　down　one　by　one；　wanted　the　satisfaction　of　gazing　down　on　every　one　of　them　dead　by　his　own　hand。　But　the　elements　and　the　Coughing　Death　had　beaten　him　to　it。
　　
　　No；　it　couldn't　be；　it　wasn't　like　this。　They　were　all　alive；　trying　to　fool　him　into　thinking　they　were　dead　so　that　he　would　go　away。　But　you　can't　fool　me；　you　shit…pigs！
　　
　　'Get　up！'　He　screamed；　brought　the　rifle　up　to　his　shoulder。　'I　know　you're　not　fucking　well　dead。　D'you　hear　what　I　say？　Get　up　and　run　for　it。　I'm　giving　you　a　chance。　D'you　fucking　well　hear？'
　　
　　No　movement　except　a　piece　of　wet　snow　sliding　off　a　branch；　plopping　on　to　the　ground。　Faces　stared　back　at　him；　dull　orbs　that　were　filled　with　a　hopelessness　that　had　frozen　into　them。　Features　rigid；　defiant。　We're　not　going　to　run　because　we're　dead。　You're　too　late。
　　
　　'For　the　last　time；　are　you　going　to　fucking　well　get　up　and　take　your　chance　with　me？'
　　
　　No　answer；　no　movement。　Reitze　had　the　rifle　barrel　trained　on　the　forehead　of　the　nearest　inert　body；　took　another　trigger　pressure。　Your　chance　has　gone；　you　bastard！
　　
　　The　slug　split　the　skull　in　two；　exploded　a　shower　of　red　bone　splinters。　The　second　shot　was　almost　simultaneous；　bowled　a　small　child　over；　rolled　it　so　that　you　could　not　see　the　gaping　wound　in　its　side。　Firing　fast　now；　corpses　ing　alive　with　the　impact　of　the　bullets；　thrown　back；　jerked　one　way；　slumping　another。　Reloading；　shooting　again；　the　cloud　of　cordite　smoke　thickening；　doing　its　best　to　screen　the　awful　mutilation。
　　
　　Reitze　paused　to　reload；　looked　for　unscathed　bodies　and　could　not　find　any。　The　first　throwback　again；　this　time　a　chest　shot；　ripping　out　the　breast　bone；　breaking　legs；　arms；　disembowelling　others　so　that　the　stench　of　human　offal　mingled　with　the　smeil　of　powdersmoke。
　　
　　Only　when　he　was　out　of　cartridges　did　he　stop；　dropping　on　to　his　haunches；　leaning　back　against　the　birch　trunk。　His　eyelids　were　heavy；　wanted　to　close；　the　smoke　was　making　them　smart　but　he　forced　them　to　remain　open。　The　conqueror　revelled　in　the　sight　of　his　conquest；　wanted　to　savour　the　bloody　carnage。　All　my　own　work。　Liar！　No；　I　killed　'em　because　they　were　still　alive；　trying　to　fool　me　but　1　was　too　damned　smart　for　'em。　They　paid。
　　
　　'I　got　you；　you　fuck　bastards！'　A　cracked　whisper　that　was　meant　to　be　a　jubilant　yell。　'I　got　you　for　what　you　did　to　us。'
　　
　　And　when　dusk　drifted　into　the　wood　Reitze　was　still　propped　up　against　the　bole　of　that　tree；　rigid；　eyes　still　fixed　on　the　bloodshed　in　front　of　him。　The　rifle　had　fallen　from　his　grasp；　half…buried　in　a　patch　of　snow。　Anyone　stumbling　upon　him　might　have　been　forgiven　for　thinking　that　he　was　still　alive；　that