gns.snakes-第11节

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her　life。　'Maybe　your　folks　would　like　me　to　do　their　garden　for　them。'
　　
　　'You're　impossible；'　she　snapped。　'Anyway；　I　don't　think　you're　pregnant。'
　　
　　'You　don't　think！'　She　almost　screamed。　'And　what　do　you　know　about　it？　But　I'll　tell　you　this；　Keith；　we　continue　going　out　together　and　if　I　let　you　have　sex　with　me　again；　you're　going　to　wear　something　every　time。　None　of　this　not　taking　precautions　a　few　days　either　side　of　my　period。　If　I　have　another　period！'
　　
　　Keith　would　have　liked　to　phone　Kirsten　this　morning。　Just　to　put　his　mind　at　rest。　Or　otherwise。　He　could　have　gone　into　the　house　to　make　the　call；　there　was　a　key　kept　just　inside　the　garage；　but　he　would　have　to　think　about　it。　It　was　something　that　would　require　a　certain　amount　of　courage。　Kirsten　worked　at　the　drapery　shop　in　town　and　Mrs　Holloway；　the　proprietor；　was　a　peculiar　old　bird。　'I　don't　like　my　staff　having　private　calls　during　working　hours；'　Keith　decided　he　would　leave　it　a　bit；　think　about　it　some　more。　In　the　end　he　would　probably　wait　until　tonight；　meet　Kirsten　down　by　the　church；　if　she　came。　Lately　there　were　too　many　bloody　ifs　to　everything。
　　
　　He　attacked　the　weeds；　a　legacy　from　old　Fred's　days。　A　marvellous　tool　the　hoe；　cutting　them　all　out。　You　either　left　them　to　wither　and　die　in　the　sun　or　else　you　raked　them　up　and　carted　them　away　in　the　barrow。　Keith　did　the　latter。
　　
　　Ten　o'clock　was　'bait…time'。　Bait　was　a　cup　of　tea　out　of　a　flask　and　a　sandwich。　Keith　ate　the　rest　of　his　sandwiches　at　half　past　twelve；　and　by　six　he　was　ravenous　for　the　cooked　meal　which　his　mother　had　on　the　table　on　his　return　home。　He　had　lived　with　his　mother　in　Stainforth　ever　since　his　schooldays；　his　father　had　run　off　with　a　young　village　girl　when　Keith　was　ten　and　they　had　not　heard　from　Peter　Doyle　since。
　　
　　Keith　was　sweating　profusely　as　he　sat　on　the　edge　of　the　lawn　sipping　his　tea。　He　looked　up　at　the　sky；　a　gun…blue　universe　with　not　so　much　as　a　wisp　of　white　cloud　in　sight。　The　farming　weather　forecast　on　Sunday　lunchtime　had　predicted　dry　and　hot　for　the　whole　week。
　　
　　Time　to　get　going　again。　He　peeled　off　his　shirt；　dropped　it　down　on　the　grass。　He　did　not　have　the　inclination　to　walk　back　to　the　van。　Just　take　your　time；　you've　got　all　day　and　it's　going　to　get　hotter。
　　
　　The　ground　was　hard…baked；　every　weed　required　a　good　pull　to　free　it；　toss　it　clear　of　the　soil。　He　wondered　again　about　Kirsten。　A　lot　of　girls　had　had　their　futures　ruined　by　this　kind　of　class　consciousness；　sheer　bloody　snobbery。　He　would　fight　for　her　every　inch　of　the　way。　Sod　it；　she　was　twenty；　old　enough　to　please　herself；　an　adult。　But　when　you　were　brainwashed；　indoctrinated；　age　didn't　matter。　Some　people　got　into　the　habit　of　doing　whatever　anybody　told　them　throughout　their　entire　lives。
　　
　　He　wondered　what　would　happen　if　she　was　pregnant。　Her　old　man　would　go　up　the　wall　but　that　wouldn't　remove　the　baby　from　inside　her。　Unless　。。。　God；　he　wouldn't　make　her　have　an　abortion；　would　he？　Legalised　murder。　The　bastard　would；　Keith　knew　he　would；　and　it　made　him　angry；　had　him　chopping　viciously　at　a　clump　of　chickweed。
　　
　　He'd　like　a　baby；　a　son　or　a　daughter；　he　didn't　care　which。　One　day　he　would　have　one。　In　the　meantime　he　needed　the　flat　hoe　on　this　chickweed。　He　dropped　the　one　he　was　using；　heard　it　rattle　on　the　hard　ground；　picked　up　the　other。　The　hoe　rattled　again。
　　
　　It　was　some　seconds　before　he　looked　round；　before　he　realised　that　the　hoe　should　not　have　rattled　a　second　time；　could　not　possibly　have　rolled　and　clanked　again。　Even　then　he　did　not　spot　the　lurking　creature　right　away　and　when　he　made　it　out　amongst　a　thick　growth　of　weed　he　could　not　be　absolutely　sure　what　it　was。　Unsuspecting；　he　stood　there　just　staring　at　it。
　　
　　At　first　he　thought　it　was　a　frog　or　a　toad；　light　coloured　with　dark　markings；　giving　it　a　kind　of　slimy　slippery　look　in　the　bright　sunshine。　He　peered　closer；　noticed　that　it　tailed　off　back　into　the　undergrowth；　that　what　he　had　mistaken　for　a　frog　was　only　its　head；　that　it　had　a　body　attached　to　it；　a　long　thick　one　that　went　on　and　on；　partially　screened　from　his　vision　so　that　he　could　only　hazard　a　guess　at　its　length；　several　feet　for　sure！
　　
　　Keith's　mouth　went　dry　and　there　seemed　to　be　a　constriction　in　his　throat。　He　met　those　eyes；　felt　an　inexplicable　force　boring　into　him；　numbing　him。　A　slight　shifting　of　that　lengthy　body　as　it　began　to　uncoil；　a　noise　that　reminded　him　of　a　football　rattle　on　the　terraces　when　he　went　along　to　watch　United　play　at　home。　The　sound　broke　the　spell；　brought　him　back　to　reality；　a　jumble　of　warnings。　PC　Aylott's　curt　sarcastic　tones；'　The　snakes　could　be　anywhere。''
　　
　　He　leapt　backwards；　landed　on　the　lawn；　caught　his　feet　in　the　shirt　which　he　had　thrown　carelessly　down；　fell；　extricated　himself；　burst　into　headlong　flight。
　　
　　And　behind　him　he　heard　that　rattling；　angrier　and　faster　now　like　far…off　bursts　of　machine…gun　fire　trying　to　gun　him　down。　Running　blindly；　anywhere；　his　panic　like　a　coronary　attack　thudding　in　his　chest。　He　heard　his　heartbeat　（or　was　it　that　snake　rattling　with　a　deeper　tone？）；　his　pulses　thudding；　a　roaring　in　his　ears；　sweat　lathering　his　naked　torso。
　　
　　He　did　not　look　back；　dared　not　waste　a　second；　off　the　lawn　and　on　to　the　drive。　The　van　was　too　far　away；　it　would　have　to　be　the　garage；　pull　the　shutter　down　as　you　go　through。　Oh　Jesus　Christ；　I　hope　it's　flush　with　the　floor　because　if　there's　a　gap　then　I'm　trapped！
　　
　　The　reptile　was　close　behind　him。　He　didn't　look；　he　knew。　He　felt　its　vibrations　like　a　sack　of　loose　beads；　its　malevolence　and　determination　to　overtake　him。　An　anticipation　of　pain　as　it　struck；　an　agony　that　would　have　him　writhing　and　screaming　on　the　tarmac　drive；　helpless　as　it　struck　again　and　again；　its　vile　body　close　to　his　own；　those　evil　eyes　watching　his　death　throes。
　　
　　Almost　there。　He　reached　up　for　the　handle　of　the　shutter　as　he　ran　beneath　it；　tugged　downwards　with　all　his　strength。　For　one　terrible　moment　he　thought　it　had　jammed　or　that　perhaps　for　some　reason　Peter　Eversham　had　fitted　a　locking　device　to　stop　kids　from　playing　with　it。　Keith　almost　yelled　his　relief　out　loud　as　the　shutter　began　to　move　almost　silently　on　its　oiled　mechanism；　gathering　speed　downwards；　clattering。
　　
　　Only　then　did　Keith　Doyle　look　back；　had　a　momentary　view　of　his　pursuer　before　the　shutter　crashed　down　to　the　floor；　saw　a　reptile　that　was　close　on　six　feet　in　length；　light…coloured　with　distinctive　dark　diamond　markings；　looking　like　the　personification　of　evil　in　serpent　form。　It　rattled　viciously；　was　still　some　yards　from　the　garage；　Keith's　lead　had　been　greater　than　he　had　dared　to　believe。　He　had　won　by　a　clear　length。　Temporarily；　anyway。
　　
　　One　awful　thought　that　the　shutter　might　bounce　back　up；　or　not　close　properly。　He　anticipated　a　metallic　bang　as　it　hit　the　floor；　instead　there　was　a　well…oiled　click；　a　mechanical　sound　as　though　levers　had　slotted　into　place。　The　door　locked；　held；　and　there　was　not　so　much　as　a　sliver　of　daylight　showing　beneath　it。
　　
　　He　leaned　back　against　the　wall；　thought　that　he　was　going　to　faint　and　buckled　his　knees　into　a　crouching　position　in　anticipation　of　blacking　out。　The　feeling　passed。　He　closed　his　eyes；　could　not　shut　out　a　mental　picture　of　that　rattlesnake；　saw　again　its　anger　and　its　hatred　for　Man；　heard　its　deathly　rattle。
　　
　　Sweat　poured　off　him。　The　bloody　thing　had　been　lying　in　wait　for　him　amongst　the　weeds　and　if　he　had　not　decided　to　change　hoes　and　thrown　the　first　one　behind　him；　disturbing　and　frightening　the　rattlesnake　as　it　waited　to　strike；　then　he　would　not　have　forced　it　to　give　a　warning　rattle。　So　close；　but　he　had　been　given　those　few　vital　seconds'　grace　which　was　the　difference　between　life　and　death。　Jesus　Christ　Almighty！
　　
　　I'll　chop　'em　in　half　with　the　hoe　if　I　see　'em。　Like　fuck　you　will；　you　stupid　bugger。
　　
　　His　nerves　were　calming；　his　heart　was　not　beating　nearly　so　fast；　the　roaring　in　his　ears　had　lessened　and　he　had　almost　stopped　shaking。　He　began　to　think　logically。　That　key；　it　was　up　on　the　first　shelf　inside　that　tin　of　nails。　He　stood　up；　lifted　the　tin　down　and　had　to　put　pressure　on　the　lid　to　force　it　off。　Good；　the　key　was　there；　a　front　door　one　。。。　oh　shitfire　and　Holy　Moses！
　　
　　Frustration；　anger；　he　closed　his　hand　over　the　Yale　key；　would　have　crushed　it　to　a　piece　of　twisted　metal　if　he　had　had　the　strength。　He　didn't；　so　he　flung　it　at　the　wall；　watched　it　bounce　on　the　floor　and　land　in　a　patch　of　sticky　oil。　Far　better　had　there　been　no　key　hidden　in　the　garage　at　all　than　this　one　that　built　his　hopes　and　then　destroyed　them　a　few　seconds　later。　For　this　was　a　front　door　key；　and　to　reach　the　front　door　it　would　be　necessary　to　go　out　across　the　drive　where　undoubtedly　the　snake　still　lay　waiting。　The　back　door；　which　was　in　the　patio　at　the　rear　of　the　garage　and　could　be　reached　without　going　outside；　was　almost　certainly　locked。　So　certain　that　it　was　a　waste　of　time　even　checking　it。
　　
　　You'r