gns.snakes-第36部分
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The corporal pushed fresh shells into the breech； snapped the barrels shut but he was too late。 Its vicious lunge； a hurtling forward of its dragging body； sent the gun spinning from his grasp； its fangs fastening in his throat； cutting off his scream as it tore out the flesh； blinded itself temporarily in a fountain of human blood。
Its instinct was to wrap itself around the body of its prey； crush it to a mulch； but it sensed that it no longer had the strength； time was running out。 It flopped back； ignored the fallen convulsing human who still jetted scarlet blood from his throat wound； lay there and felt the pain from its own injury； knew that it； the king of the snakes； must flee。 Only its supreme strength enabled it to turn； to head back the way it had e； its frantic slithering slowing with every yard。 Bright lights blinded it； it heard the roaring of engines； the frantic shouts of men who saw it； knew that it was fatally wounded； yet kept their distance。 If it could only get back to that dark hole in the ground it would be safe。
The Land Rover had stopped on the road； the mobile searchlight on the cab focused on the twitching python。 Three soldiers ran forward； fanned out into a semicircle； Browning 5…shot automatic shotguns at the ready。
The corporal was dead； the big snake had almost had it； but they were not taking any chances。 A volley of gunfire shattered the stillness of the summer night； each soldier emptying his magazine into the African rock python。 Dissecting it； decapitating it； cutting it into segments； splattering the reptilian body across the forecourt； reducing it to an unrecognisable mulch。 Later the experts would scrape up the remains； cross it off their list。 Another one down； five to go。
The King of the Snakes was dead。
Chapter 18
JOHN PRICE had lost valuable time on the A701 just outside Dumfries。 The petrol pump was playing up； cutting out every few miles； bringing him to a stop。 He pulled into the side of the road； waited a few minutes and the engine started again； a spasmodic fault that would worsen over the miles。 Disconcerting on the motorway； always the nagging fear that it might stop you in the middle of the fast lane 。 。 。
In all probability the car would get him back to Stainforth。 In stages。 There was no time to stop and get it fixed。 Sorry； sir； we don't seem to have a pump in stock but we can phone and get one sent out from Glasgow； no more than a couple of hours at the most。 He decided to chance it。
The last thing he wanted was attention drawn to that battered suitcase on the back seat with a number of holes punched in the scuffed leather； some busybody of a mechanic poking his nose into what did not concern him。 There's something alive in that case； mister。 Yes； it's ferrets； I do a bit of rabbiting now and then。 That's odd； I keep ferrets myself； mister； but you can't ferret rabbits at this time of the year。 They're breeding； your ferrets will lie up eating the baby rabbits and you'll never get 'em out of the warrens。 Mind your own fucking business； I'll ferret whenever I want to。
John could not chance anybody seeing those two animals that were lying asleep in the cramped； suffocating suitcase。 Rick and Tick； a pair of mongooses； at first sight the layman might mistake them for ferrets but their size would give the game away。 About a metre in length with brownish grey fur； short legs； pointed muzzle and a long bushy tail。 Domesticated up to a point…until they scented snakes and then they reverted to their wild instincts。 At least； John hoped they would。 The safety of the people of Stainforth depended upon it。 It was like that experiment that the Forestry mission were conducting； importing a predatory insect from Sweden in an attempt to eradicate the larch beetle from the forests of Wales。 They could not be sure whether or not it would work。 A process of trial and error。
Once he hit the motorway he kept to the slow lane； joined a mile…long convoy of heavy transport lorries。 Twice the petrol pump faltered and he glided on to the hard shoulder； waited； resumed his journey。 As long as some bloody police motorway patrol car doesn't e along trying to be helpful； I'll be all right； he decided。 They didn't； they were too busy policing the fast lane。
He estimated that it would be midnight before he reached Stainforth； began to re…think his plan of action。 Realistically an hour or two did not make much difference （except that somebody else might get killed in the meantime）； so long as he released the creatures under cover of darkness nobody would be any the wiser。 He just hoped Rick and Tick would keep clear of soldiers and police； would not get shot by some trigger…happy rookie。
It was 12。15 when he pulled up at the roadblock on the outskirts of the village。 Fortunately the soldier on duty recognised him； waved him through。 He drove on steadily through the village； noted the Land Rovers and trucks parked at intervals； knew that armed police and soldiers would be stationed nearby in the shadows。 Waiting。
He parked outside Aunt Elsie's bungalow； carried the suitcase up the short drive and round the back； laid it down adjacent to the aluminium coal…bunker。
He was trembling； trying to peer into the shadows； expecting an armed figure to emerge at any second。 'What you got there； son？ Releasing wild animals into the environment； eh！ I'll have to report it。 And in the meantime I'll hang on to those creatures。'
But nobody came； there was no sound to be heard anywhere； Stainforth might have been any one of a thousand English villages on a hot summer's night； its inhabitants fast asleep in bed。 Except that John Price knew different。 He was sweating heavily。
He unfastened the straps； lifted the lid cautiously； made out the silhouettes of two ferret…like bodies； heads upraised enquiringly。 Thank Christ they were still alive； it had been stifling in the Mini。
'This is it； Rick and Tick；' He spoke softly； let the lid of the case rest back against the bunker。 'It's up to you now。 Go and do your stuff and when you've finished the case will be here for you to e back to。' They don't understand； but you have to talk to animals； gain their confidence。 Just let 'em go and roam until they get a sniff of snakes。
The two mongooses just lay there； made no attempt to leave their temporary home。 He thought about lifting them out but decided against it。 It was their show； they would have to do it their way without his interference。 Just leave them to get on with it。
He tip…toed away； retired to the back door； stood just inside with the door ajar； watching intently。 But the snake…killers appeared to be in no hurry。 They were confused； they might still be there in the morning。 It was asking a lot of them。
He went inside； closed the door； and stretched himself out on the settee。 He needed to rest。
A burst of gunfire jerked him out of a deep sleep； a volley of shots that were still echoing across the village by the time he made it to the back door。 People were shouting； vehicles were on the move。 Something had happened。
And when he checked on that old suitcase outside it was empty。 The mongooses had done what he had wanted them to do； slunk off into the darkness of a village that was alive with the threat of reptilian death。
It was the second night in succession that Cynthia Eversham had heard the rattlesnake in her dreams； like a bag of witchdoctor's dried bones being shaken frantically； a sinister background noise that got louder。 And louder。 Until it woke her up； brought her upright in bed； her naked body shiny with sweat； a scream forming on her lips。
This time she screamed because she knew it was not a nightmarish figment of a bereaved and tortured mind。 It was real！
She stared about her in the darkness； feared for one terrible moment that the reptile was in the room。 No； it was outside somewhere； down below on the drive。
She didn't want to look； never wanted to see a snake again as long as she lived but she had to check
