gns.snakes-第3部分

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　　He　tensed；　thought　he　caught　a　far…off　rumble　of　thunder。　It　could　have　been　an　aircraft。　Thunderstorms　always　made　him　uneasy；　had　done　so　ever　since　childhood。　And　those　bleedin'　snakes　didn't　help。　He　shuddered　again。
　　
　　He　glanced　about　him　almost　furtively。　He　knew　this　area　well；　and　that　made　him　uneasy　too。　Hold　on；　you're　imagining　things；　that　woman　isn't　likely　to　be　wandering　around　a　closed…down　zoo。　Your　chances　of　bumping　into　her　are　virtually　nil　and；　anyway；　she　wouldn't　recognise　you　with　this　moustache；　certainly　not　in　passing。　He　shaded　his　eyes　with　a　hand　that　was　unsteady　and　squinted　across　to　where　the　conurbation　began；　or　ended；　depending　on　how　you　looked　at　it。　Tall；　unsightly　blocks　of　council　flats；　there　was　a　rumpus　going　on　about　whether　they　were　safe　or　not。　He　had　read　in　the　papers　that　they　had　put　glass　tell…tales　in　them　to　check　whether　the　foundations　were　shifting　or　not。
　　
　　She　lived　in　one　of　those。　Ken　Wilson　used　to　go　there；　sometimes　stopping　overnight。　No。　117。　He　experienced　a　twinge　of　guilt。　Maybe　Veronica　had　forgotten　all　about　him；　certainly　she　hadn't　made　much　effort　to　trace　him　and　she　wasn't　likely　to　after　all　this　time。　Stop　worrying；　she's　OK；　probably　shacked　up　with　another　guy　by　now。　Nevertheless；　Ken　Wilson　did　not　like　it　when　his　truck　driving　brought　him　this　way。　There　was　always　the　awful　chance　that　Fate　might　have　destined　him　to　meet　up　with　Veronica　Jones　again。　And　now　that　he　was　living　with　an　eighteen…year…old　check…out　girl　from　Wiggins　superstore　the　last　thing　he　wanted　was　a　thirty…five…year…old　spectre　ing　out　of　the　past。　Forget　the　woman　and　the　snakes。
　　
　　'Everything's　loaded　up；　mate。'
　　
　　Ken　Wilson　turned　slowly；　saw　that　the　zoo　workmen　had　even　shut　the　back　of　the　van　up　for　him。　All　you　have　to　do　is　to　drive　it。
　　
　　A　clap　of　thunder　had　him　starting　visibly。
　　
　　'Looks　like　we're　goin'　to　get　it　this　time；　mate；'
　　
　　'Yeah；　looks　like　it。'　Wilson　walked　towards　the　cab；　opened　the　door；　felt　the　heat　e　out　at　him　like　the　forerunner　of　a　fireball。　He　winced；　saw　the　clouds　of　flies　buzzing　on　the　windscreen。　This　was　what　you　got　in　flaming　June；　either　pouring　wet　or　too　hot　to　move。　No　moderation。
　　
　　He　climbed　up　into　the　cab；　wound　the　window　down；　he　should　have　done　that　as　soon　as　he　arrived。　He　felt　in　his　pockets　for　cigarettes　and　matches…his　hands　were　still　shaking。　Deliberately　blowing　smoke　at　the　flies。　Take　that　lot；　you　bastards。　They　bunched　and　buzzed　their　protest　but　they　did　not　fly　off。
　　
　　Finger　on　the　starter　button；　he　hesitated。　Listening；　Listening　intently；　anticipating　slitherings　and　stirrings　from　the　back。　They　can't　get　into　the　cab　even　if　they　escape　from　their　containers。　Can　they？
　　
　　Then　the　thunder　rolled　again；　terminating　in　a　reverberating　clap　almost　overhead。　The　sun　was　obscured　by　the　advancing　clouds　which　brought　with　them　a　gloom　that　was　akin　to　dusk。　Eerie。
　　
　　He　pressed　the　starter　and　the　engine　turned　over　maybe　half　a　dozen　times　before　it　fired。　This　van　was　a　heap　of　crap；　a　'P'…registered　vehicle　that　had　struggled　to　pass　its　MOT。　Like　everything　else　at　Hadleys　Transport　it　was　on　the　way　out。　But　in　this　day　and　age　a　job　was　a　job　and　you　stuck　it。
　　
　　Ken　Wilson　let　in　the　clutch　and　the　van　rolled　forward；　crunched　on　the　gravel　as　he　turned　towards　the　main　gates。　A　few　rain　spots　smacked　on　the　windscreen；　but　the　expected　downpour　did　not　follow。　The　storm　was　ing　from　the　south…west；　he　was　travelling　north。　He　might　just　keep　ahead　of　it。　He　was　going　to　do　his　damnedest；　anyhow。
　　
　　Motorway…1　mile。　A　sense　of　freedom；　no　stops　until　he　reached　his　destination。　One　last　glance　in　the　direction　of　those　hideous　council　flats。　Just　thinking　about　Veronica　gave　him　an　arousement。　Well；　that　was　all　she　was　good　for；　get　her　out　of　bed　and　she　wasn't　much　use　for　anything　else。　No　intelligence；　you　couldn't　take　her　anywhere；　not　with　that　whining　plaining　voice。　Veronica's　virtues　began　and　ended　between　her　thighs。　All　the　same；　he　hoped　she　was　OK。　Hell；　he　was　getting　a　guilt　plex。
　　
　　The　motorway　was　unusually　busy；　an　unending　line　of　trundling　trucks　in　the　slow　lane；　cars　cruising　in　the　middle　one。　He　awaited　his　chance　and　pulled　out；　got　in　behind　a　Mini　Clubman　estate　that　seemed　packed　with　kids　and　luggage　right　up　to　the　roof。　A　gimmicky　notice　above　the　rear　number　plate　read：　'If　you　can　read　this　you're　too　bloody　close。'　Silly　buggers；　what　did　they　expect　on　the　motorway？　If　you　dropped　back　then　somebody　overtook　you　and　cut　in　front　so　you　couldn't　make　a　gap　no　matter　what　you　did。　The　roads　were　dry。　All　the　same；　Ken　doubted　if　he　could　pull　up　in　time　if　anything　happened　in　front。　Very　few　drivers　could。
　　
　　The　sun　was　shining　again。　He　glanced　in　his　mirror；　saw　those　black　and　yellow　clouds　way　behind；　thought　he　could　make　out　the　rain　sheeting　down。　He'd　give　the　storm　a　run　for　its　money。　He　experienced　momentary　exhilaration。
　　
　　He　was　watching　those　kids　in　the　Clubman　quarrelling　and　fighting　when　something　on　the　seat　beside　him　moved；　something　cylindrical；　rolling；　jerking。　Oh　God！　The　van　swerved　violently　and　he　only　just　hauled　it　back　into　the　middle　lane　in　time。　Horns　blared；　somebody　flashed　his　headlights。
　　
　　Now　he　could　see　the　offending　object　lying　motionless　on　the　floor；　a　screwdriver；　one　he　had　used　to　tighten　a　loose　screw　on〃　the　dash　earlier　and　had　left　lying　on　the　seat。　Bloody　hell；　for　a　moment　he　had　thought　it　was　a　。。。
　　
　　Don't　think　about　those　snakes。　Like　the　man　at　the　zoo　said；　you　won't　even　have　to　unload　them　at　the　other　end。　You　can　report　your　arrival；　go　and　get　a　cup　of　tea　and　by　the　time　you　get　back　you'll　have　an　empty　van　to　take　home。　As　simple　as　that。　You're　just　a　driver；　Ken　Wilson；　nothing　else。
　　
　　He　would　have　to　break　the　return　journey　overnight。　That　was　a　bit　of　a　bummer　when　there　was　a　teenage　girl　waiting　back　home；　willing　to　do　anything　you　wanted　her　to。　If　it　wasn't　for　these　bloody　tachometers　they　fitted　in　HGVs　these　days　he　would　have　put　his　foot　down　and　gone　all　out　to　get　home　in　one　run。
　　
　　Those　bloody　kids　in　front　were　getting　on　his　nerves。　One　had　climbed　over　into　the　boot　and　was　clinging　precariously　on　to　a　pile　of　luggage　and　trying　to　kick　hell　out　of　the　other　at　the　same　time。　Why；　for　fuck's　sake；　didn't　their　bloody　parents　do　something　about　it！　Vandals　and　muggers　in　the　making；　that's　how　it　all　started；　a　lack　of　discipline　in　the　home。
　　
　　The　sun　had　gone　behind　the　clouds　and　it　was　hotter　than　ever。　That　crap　cooling　system　must　have　packed　up　altogether。　Wilson　wondered　if　he　could　get　his　overalls　undone　whilst　he　was　driving　but　changed　his　mind　when　a　police　patrol　car　passed　him　in　the　fast　lane。　The　sweat　was　pouring　off　him；　his　trousers　were　stuck　to　the　seat。
　　
　　In　his　mirror　he　noticed　headlights　being　used；　and　switched　his　own　on。　Those　thunder　clouds　had　moved　at　an　unbelievable　rate　of　knots。　Now　he　heard　the　thunder　again；　resonant　rolls　like　an　angry　monster　roaring　its　wrath　as　it　tried　to　run　him　down。
　　
　　The　sudden　daytime　gloom　had　him　thinking　about　his　reptilian　passengers　in　the　back　again。　Man　was　a　daytime　creature；　scared　of　the　dark　no　matter　how　he　tried　to　tell　himself　he　wasn't。　Probably　the　snakes　were　all　asleep。　It　was　bloody　cruel　imprisoning　them　in　zoos。　Just　done　to　make　money。　Taken　out　of　their　natural　environment　they　slept　and　ate　their　lives　away　in　sheer　boredom。　You　couldn't　blame　them　if　they　got　nasty　and　turned　on　somebody。　Man　was　the　cruellest　creature　of　all；　there　was　no　getting　away　from　that。　Christ；　Ken　thought；　I'm　going　bloody　soft。
　　
　　He　found　himself　listening　again　but　all　he　heard　was　engine　noise。　If　the　buggers　did　manage　to　escape　they　couldn't　go　anywhere。　It　was　the　guys　the　other　end　who　would　find　them　whilst　he　was　somewhere　safe　having　a　bite　to　eat。　He'd　keep　well　clear　of　the　van　until　it　was　empty。
　　
　　The　rain　came　without　warning；　a　few　heavy　spots　followed　by　an　instant　downpour；　the　wipers　struggling　to　cope。　Ken　Wilson　cursed　under　his　breath；　the　most　depressing　sound　of　all　was　that　of　the　monotonous　noise　of　windscreen　wipers。　Fuck　it！
　　
　　Rain　was　bouncing　up　off　the　tarmac；　being　whipped　into　a　blinding　spray　by　the　tyres　of　speeding　traffic；　obliterating　from　view　the　vehicles　up　ahead。　The　cars　and　lorries　did　not　seem　to　be　slowing　any　and　those　idiot　children　in　the　Clubman　were　still　slinging　punches　at　each　other。　One　had　found　a　tennis　racket　somewhere　and　was　attempting　to　brain　the　other；　battering　him　viciously　with　it。
　　
　　Ken　glanced　at　his　watch。　5。45。　Night　had　e　about　four　hours　early；　there　was　driving　rain　and　a　lashing　gale　that　was　bending　newly　planted　birch　saplings　on　the　embankments　almost　double。　Another　police　car　passed；　doing　a　ton　for　sure。　One　law　for　some；　another　for　others。
　　
　　And　then　it　happened！　Ken　did　not　know　whether　the　Clubman　estate　had　failed　to　see　the　brake　lights　of　the　Ford　Transit　in　front　or　whether　he　had　simply　driven　into　its　back；　distracted　by　those　bastards　of　fighting　kids。　Suddenly　the　Clubman　crunched；　reared　like　a　frisky　filly；　momentarily　upright　on　its　rear　wheels。　AH　in　an　instant　before　he　hit　it；　the　roof　buckled；　split　and　the　glass　showered　out　of　the　windows　spilling　those　children　with　it。
　　
　　He　saw　them　for　a　split　second　and　braked　hard；　but　knew　he　could　not　miss　them。　One　was　still　clutching　the　racket；　swinging　it；　the　other's　face　a　mass　of　scarlet　pulp；　a　broken　rag　doll　bouncing　on　the　hard　surface。　Disappearing。
　　
　　Please　God！　He　felt　the　front　tyre　crushing　the　infant　body；　saw　in　his　mind　the　squashed　form　like　those　hedgehogs　you　saw　flattened　on　the　roads　every　morning。　The　crunching　of　frail　bones；　instant　death。　The　other　child　was　still　airborne　when　he　hit　it；　saw　it　flatten　on　the　windscreen　without　breaking　the　glass；　a　gnat　caught　by　a　speeding　vehicle。　The　wipers　would　knock　it　off　in　a　second；　they　were　buffeting　it；　bouncing　back　off；　swipin