gns.batsoutofhell-第24部分

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　　And　gradually　the　sounds　of　insects　in　the　woods　and　fields　were　dying　away。　The　grasshopper's　chirruping　became　slow；　like　a　chain…saw　with　the　power　switched　off。　Wasps　crawled　lazily；　not　even　having　the　energy　to　sting　when　molested。　Midges　died　by　their　millions　in　hedgerows　and　fields。　And　already　bird　life　was　beginning　to　suffer。　The　swifts　and　swallows　should　have　been　congregating　on　telegraph…wires　in　readiness　for　their　long　flight　south；　but　many　were　found　lying　beneath　these　munal　perches　as　though　electrified　by　the　currents。　Everybody　knew　the　true　cause　of　death。
　　
　　Only　the　bats　seemed　unharmed　by　the　extermination　of　almost　every　form　of　insect　life。　The　creatures　for　whom　the　poison　had　been　intended　showed　no　signs　of　ill　effects。　In　fact；　they　became　more　active；　and　were　seen　in　greater　numbers　than　before。
　　
　　They're　restless；　disturbed；'　Rickers　said　uneasily　as　he　stood　at　the　laboratory　window；　with　Haynes　and　Newman。　Dusk　was　closing　in　over　the　Chase；　and　already　dozens　of　bats　were　to　be　seen；　flying　apparently　aimlessly；　frequently　dashing　themselves　against　the　windows　of　the　Biological　Research　Centre；　almost　as　though　they　recognised　this　place　as　the　headquarters　of　the　war　which　was　being　waged　against　them。
　　
　　'And　the　insecticides　are　apparently　having　no　effect　on　them；'　Newman　murmured。　'We've　killed　off　nearly　everything　else　within　a　radius　of　sixty　miles；　but　the　bats　appear　to　be　unharmed。　How　the　hell　are　they　surviving？'
　　
　　They're　eating　poisoned　insect　life；'　Haynes　said；　shaking　his　head　in　bewilderment；　'and　they're　thriving　on　it。　They　don't　even　have　to　look　for　it。　The　woods　and；　fields　are　carpeted　with　it。　And　there's　more　than　enough　to　keep　them　going　until　the　winter。'
　　
　　'Maybe　that'll　be　the　finish　of　them；'　Rickers　suggested。　'They'll　hibernate；　and　then　in　spring　there'll　be　no　food　for　them　and　they'll　starve。'
　　
　　'Like　hell！'　Newman　said。　They'll　just　spread　to　the　rest　of　the　country。　And　we　can't　poison　the　whole　of　the　British　Isles　from　John　o'　Groats　to　Land's　End。　Anyway；　this　hibernation　isn't　what　everybody　thinks　it　is。　Bats　don't　sleep　solidly　throughout　the　winter。　A　spell　of　mild　weather　and　they're　as　active　as　they　are　in　summer。'
　　
　　'But　we　don't　know　that　we've　failed　yet；'　Rickers　insisted。　'Maybe　the　poison　is　taking　longer　to　work　on　the　bats。　The　virus　could　be　slowing　it　up。'
　　
　　'Or　even　acting　as　an　inoculation。　The　virus　could　well　be　rendering　it　harmless。　There's　so　much　we　bloody　well　don't　know　about　the　whole　thing。　All　we　can　do　is　wait；　but　right　now　things　don't　look　very　hopeful。'
　　
　　By　24th　September　it　was　clear　to　the　whole　world　that　the　insecticide　experiment　was　a　failure　and　also　that　the　overall　situation　had　worsened。　The　numbers　of　bats　flying　at　night　had　visibly　increased。　The　young　were　now　totally　independent　and　flew　with　the　adults　like　swarms　of　locusts　over　the　whole　countryside。　Every　night　held　its　own　terrors。　Even　the　most　secure　barricades　were　proved　to　be　inadequate；　almost　as　though　the　creatures　were　now　deliberately　seeking　out　human　victims。　Fleet　Street　constantly　reminded　the　public　that　Professor　Brian　Newman　was　the　sole　cause　of　the　disaster　and　that　every　death　must　weigh　heavily　on　his　conscience。
　　
　　The　man　responsible　for　the　spread　of　this　mutated　virus；'　one　London　daily　newspaper　leader　article　ran；　'has　so　far　failed　to　e　up　with　an　antidote；　and　it　is　now　reasonable　to　assume　that　none　exists。　An　experiment　to　poison　the　bats　has　resulted　in　the　destruction…of　virtually　the　whole　of　the　insect　life　in　the　Midlands。　What　is　Professor　Newman　doing　about　it？　The　man　responsible　for　the　spread　of　myxomatosis；　the　scourge　which　once　cleared　Britain　of　rabbits；　entered　a　monastery　in　an　attempt　to　cleanse　his　conscience　of　the　suffering　which　he　had　caused　to　millions　of　coneys。　Surely　that　is　all　that　is　left　for　Professor　Newman；　a　monk's　habit；　and　a　lifetime　spent　praying　for　forgiveness。　Repent；　Professor　Newman。'
　　
　　Brian　Newman's　hand　trembled　as　he　put　the　paper　down　on　the　table。
　　
　　'Stop　blaming　yourself；'　Susan　Wylie　said　as　she　entered　the　room　and　placed　a　cup　of　coffee　at　his　elbow。　'The　Press　always　have　to　put　somebody　in　the　stocks。　How　the　hell　can　they　pare　you　with　this　myxomatosis　guy？　His　intention　was　to　cause　deliberate　suffering。　Yours　was　an　accident；　a　biological　freak。'
　　
　　Newman　sat　up　suddenly；　his　fists　clenched。
　　
　　'My　God！'　he　muttered。　'Why　didn't　I　think　of　it　before？'
　　
　　'Think　of　what？'
　　
　　'Where's　last　week's　Scientific　American。'　He　began　to　rummage　through　a　pile　of　newspapers　and　magazines　beside　where　he　was　sitting。
　　
　　'What　is　it？'
　　
　　'Here　it　is。'　He　pulled　out　the　magazine　he　sought　and　began　to　flip　quickly　through　the　pages。　'Now；　let　me　see；　I　know　I　read　it　somewhere　in　here。。。　ah；　yes；　this　is　it。'
　　
　　Susan　Wylie　peered　over　his　shoulder。　The　article　in　question　was　written　by　one　of　the　leading　biologists　in　the　United　States　and　was　titled　'Myxomatosis　for　Rats　and　Mice。'
　　
　　'Recent　experiments　have　proved；'　it　read；　'that　a　type　of　myxomatosis；　a　mutation　of　the　virus　which　destroys　rabbits；　is　lethal　to　rats　and　mice。　Once　this　can　be　distributed　widely　it　could　save　the　United　States　billions　of　dollars　annually…in　vermin　destruction；　damage　to　growing　crops；　and　also　help　to　check　the　spread　of　many　diseases。。。　'
　　
　　'Is　it　possible？'　Newman　breathed。
　　
　　'You　mean。。。　？'
　　
　　'Yes；　you've　got　it！'　the　Professor's　eyes　shone。　'If　it　kills　rats　and　mice；　there's　no　reason　why　it　shouldn't　kill　bats。　It　could　be　the　answer　to　our　prayers。　I'll　ring　Rickers　right　away。　Maybe　we　could　get　some　of　the　stuff　flown　in。'
　　
　　Rickers　was　not　enthusiastic。　Neither　was　he　pleased　about　being　disturbed　whilst　trying　to　catch　up　on　some　lost　sleep。
　　
　　'Doesn't　sound　very　promising　to　me；'　he　grunted。
　　
　　'Neither　did　your　insecticides　idea。'　Newman　snapped；　'and　that　certainly　didn't　work。　Now　it's　my　turn。'
　　
　　'Myxomatosis　took　months　to　spread。'
　　
　　'Obviously　it　did；　because　rabbits　live　in　warrens；　often　isolated；　without　ing　into　contact　with　others。　The　fleas　had　to　carry　the　virus。　This　one　is　contagious。　Quicker　acting；　and　bats　are　much　more　sociable　creatures。　And　even　if　it　doesn't　work　on　them　at　least　we'll　cut　down　the　spread　of　the　disease　by　destroying　rats　and　mice。'
　　
　　'I'll　sleep　on　it。'　Rickers　mumbled　and　replaced　the　receiver。
　　
　　'Well？'　Susan　Wylie　asked。
　　
　　'He's　interested。'　Newman　told　her　laughing。　'Pooh…poohed　it；　of　course；　because　he　hadn't　thought　of　it　first。　Tried　to　find　reasons　why　it　wouldn't　work。　Then　said　he'd　sleep　on　it。　That　means　he's　fetching　Haynes　out　of　bed　right　now。　Probably　Professor　Talbot　and　Sir　John　Stirchley；　too；　and　there　might　even　be　a　trans…Atlantic　call　to　New　York　before　morning。'
　　
　　'Oh；　Brian！'　She　flung　her　arms　around　his；　crying　softly。
　　
　　'Now　hold　on；'　he　said。　'Let's　not　count　our　chickens。　There　are　one　helluva　lot　of　obstacles　to　overe　before　we　even　get　round　to　trying　to　spread　this　thing。　The　government　will　have　to　agree　to　another　virus　being　released；　and　they　aren't　exactly　sympathetic　to　everything　we've　done　so　far。　Like　Rickers　said；　let's　sleep　on　it。'
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　Fourteen
　　
　　The　safari　Land…Rover　bumped　its　way　across　the　heather　and　gorse　on　Cannock　Chase。
　　
　　'That'll　do；'　Newman　said　to　the　driver。　'We'll　release　the　bats　in　those　firs　over　there。　The　rats　and　mice　we'll　take　down　to　the　Sherbrook　Valley。'
　　
　　The　driver；　a　small　man　in　overalls　who　spent　most　of　his　time　nodding　assent　to　any　orders　he　was　given；　brought　the　vehicle　to　a　standstill。　Newman　climbed　down　and；　taking　a　small　wicker　container　resembling　a　pigeon…basket　from　the　rear；　he　walked　with　it　towards　the　nearest　line　of　trees。　From　inside　the　basket　came　frenzied　squeaks　and　fluttering。　The　bats　were　impatient　for　their　freedom。
　　
　　Professor　Newman　opened　the　lid；　and　immediately　six　bats　hurtled　up　into　the　air；　flew　round　in　a　circle；　and　then　disappeared　amongst　the　branches　of　the　towering　pines。　He　closed　the　basket　and　walked　slowly　back　towards　the　Land…Rover。　Twenty　consignments　of　similarly　treated　bats　were　today　being　released　at　various　strategic　points　around　the　Midlands。　Most　of　the　injected　rodents　had　been　set　free　in　the　towns。　Just　one　more　lot；　he　told　himself；　and　that　was　it。
　　
　　They　had　played　their　last　card。　He　prayed　that　it　was　an　ace。
　　
　　Ken　Tyler　was　abroad　shortly　after　daylight；　moving　silently　through　the　swirling　mist；　gun　beneath　his　arm。　The　fog　did　not　worry　him。　He　knew　every　inch　of　this　land。
　　
　　There　were　unlikely　to　be　any　bats　about　until　the　mist　thinned。　As　with　most　creatures；　mist　confused　their　sense　of　direction；　even　the　mad　ones。　Fog　meant　safety　for　him；　the　chance　to　get　some　work　done。
　　
　　He　followed　the　course　of　the　Castle　Ring　moat；　his　boots　squelching　in　the　soft　grass；　eyes　scanning　the　ground　ahead。　Then　he　stopped　suddenly。　Only　an　experienced　eye　would　have　spotted　the　rectangular　outline　of　a　small；　artificially　made　tunnel；　two　3ft　lengths　of　wood　with　a　roof；　camouflaged　by　clods　of　earth。　Inside　this　he　had　set　a　humane　vermin　trap　only　days　earlier；　one　of　a　network　around　the　Ring；　the　only　means　by　which　the　ground　vermin　could　be　controlled。

　　
　　He　laid　his　gun　on　the　ground　and；　kneeling　down；　peered　into　the　entrance。　The　daylight　at　the　opposite　end　was　partly　obscured。　Something　was　caught　in　the　trap。　He　gripped　the　chain　and　tugged；　feeling　the　trap　and　whatever　it　had　caught　being　dragged　towards　him。
　　
　　A　grunt　of　satisfaction　escaped　his　lips；　turning　to　one　of　revulsion　almost　at　once　as　he　caught　sight　of　his　catch。　A　rat。　He　often　trapped　rats　up　here　on　Castle。　Ring；　but　not　like　this　one。　Its　head　was　swollen　almost　to　the　size　of　its　body。　The　eyes　were　puffed　up；　hidden　beneath　two　huge　growths　which　sprouted　out　of　the　sockets　themselves；　pink　and　bloated。　The　mouth　was　open