gns.batsoutofhell-第7部分

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keep　his　expression　impassive；　yet　his　hand　shook　visibly　as　he　returned　the　instrument　to　its　case。
　　
　　'I'm　going　to　call　an　ambulance；'　he　said　as　calmly　as　possible；　moving　towards　the　door　and　the　telephone　in　the　hall。
　　
　　'It。。。　it；'　Walter　Williams　stammered　white…faced　and　shaking；　'it　ain't。。。　rabies；　is　it？'
　　
　　'No。'　Patrick　Jenkinson　forced　a　smile　and　shook　his　head。　'I　can　assure　you　it's　not　rabies。'　Though　what　the　hell　it　is；　he　mused　as　he　dialled；　God　only　knows。　The　initial　symptoms　are　akin　to　those　found　in　meningitis。。。　but　this　paralysis　had　him　beaten。
　　
　　Jenkinson　travelled　in　the　ambulance　with　Mr　and　Mrs　Williams。　Shirley　lay　still　and　stiff；　eyes　closed；　and　periodically　the　doctor　checked　her　breathing。　The　faint　movement　of　her　chest　was　the　only　sign　that　she　was　alive。　Within　twenty　minutes　she　was　hi　the　intensive　care　unit　of　Walsall　General　Hospital。　Her　parents　remained　anxiously　in　the　waiting…room；　and　it　seemed　an　eternity　before　they　saw　Dr　Jenkinson　ing　down　the　long　room　towards　them。　The　doctor's　expression　was　grim　and　sorrowful；　and　the　flame　of　hope　which　had　remained　alive　in　their　hearts　flickered　and　died。　Some　terrible；　inexplicable　illness　had　snatched　their　beloved　daughter　from　their　lives　with　the　unexpectedness　of　a　bolt　of　lightning。
　　
　　It　was　exactly　a　week　after　the　funeral　that　Walter　Williams　began　to　feel　unwell。　For　a　time　he　told　nobody；　assuming　that　it　was　just　tiredness　caused　by　a　bination　of　grief　and　sleepless　nights。　Life　had　to　go　on　although　the　summons　he　had　received　from　the　police　for　allowing　the　horses　to　wander　on　to　the　road　did　not　make　him　feel　any　better。
　　
　　'What's　up？'　Gladys　regarded　him　through　red…rimmed　eyes。　'What　yer　'oldin'　yer　'ead　for；　Walter？'
　　
　　'I　think　I'm　going　to　be　sick。'　Walter　replied；　and　only　just　made　it　to　the　bathroom　in　time。　It　was　the　thought　of　the　autopsy；　the　dissecting　and　stitching　of　a　pretty；　innocent　little　girl。　The　final　analysis；　the　moment　of　truth。
　　
　　Walter　was　still　heaving　when　he　came　back　into　the　room。　He　was　sweating；　too；　and　shivering　at　the　same　time…The　light　seemed　to　have　dimmed。　Gladys　was　in　shadow　and　he　could　not　discern　her　features。　'You　ought　to　go　to　bed；'　she　said。　He　looked　at　her；　knew　that　she　was　speaking　to　him'；　but　he　could　not　hear　her　words。
　　
　　'Yer　what？'　he　forced　the　words　out；　but　whether　there　was　any　sound　he　did　not　know。　'Walter？　You're　ill！'
　　
　　His　prehension　faded。　He　sensed　himself　at　a　disadvantage。　His　back　and　neck　muscles　were　agony。　This　woman…he　didn't　know　who　she　was…was　advancing　on　him；　hands　outstretched。　She　was　an　enemy。　He　had　to　defend　himself；　and　the　best　way　to　do　that　was　to　attack。　He　stumbled　towards　her；　using　every　ounce　of　physical　and　mental　effort　to　force　his　limbs　to　respond。　Gladys　Williams　was　heavily　built；　but　for　her　size　she　was　surprisingly　weak。　He　lurched　against　her；　and　she　fell　back　against　the　table。　His　stiffening　fingers　found　her　flabby　neck　and　closed　around　it；　locking　in　a　paralytic　vice　as　they　did　so。
　　
　　Her　mouth　was　opening；　but　whether　any　sound　came　from　it　he　could　not　tell。　Her　tongue　was　out；　blue　and　swollen；　her　eyes　bulged　and　rolled。　Walter　Williams　could　see　no　longer；　yet　it　did　not　frighten　him。　He　felt　the　woman　struggling　in　his　grasp　for　a　time；　but　eventually　she　grew　still。　Then　he　became　aware　that　he　was　losing　balance；　sliding；　falling；　taking　her　with　him。　They　hit　the　floor　and　rolled　over。　She　was　on　top　of　him；　a　crushing　weight　that　restricted　his　breathing；　the　only　bodily　function　of　which　he　was　now　capable；
　　
　　He　lay　there　in　a　black　void；　his　breathing　being　more　shallow　every　minute；　and　eventually　the　trickle　of　spittle　from　his　lips　slowed　and　stopped　altogether。
　　
　　'Look　at　this。'　Professor　Brian　Newman　thrust　some　newspaper　clippings　across　the　desk　towards　Haynes。　'You　can't　ignore　these。　This　is　the　consequence　of　bur　experiments　with　the　bats。'
　　
　　'Nonsense；'　Professor　Rickers　spoke　up　moving　from　the　window。　'You're　seeing　things　as　you　want　to　see　'em；　Newman。　You're　a　sensationalist…or　maybe　you're　just　trying　to　justify　your　own　balls…ups　and　prove　us　wrong　in　the　bargain。'
　　
　　'Read　them；'　Newman　snapped。
　　
　　'I've　read　'em；'　Haynes　pushed　the　cuttings　back。　'Apart　from　the　girl's　death；　and　her　father's；　too；　which　are　diagnosed　as　a　type　of　meningitis…'
　　
　　'Meningitis；　buggery！'　Newman's　anger　was　rising。
　　
　　'Maybe　the　horses　and　that　guy　in　the　car　died　from　it；　too；'　Rickers　laughed。
　　
　　'There's　a　tie…up。　My　theory　is　that　this。。。　this　disease　has　an　indirect　bearing　on　all　four　deaths；　maybe　the　horses'；　too。　We　can't　be　sure。'
　　
　　'You're　just　wasting　your　time；　Newman；　and　ours。'　Haynes　said。　He　had　not　called　the　professor　by　his　first　name　since　the　day　when　the　bats　had　escaped　from　the　laboratory。　It　wasn't　that　he　was　worried　about　them；　he　simply　could　not　tolerate　fools。　And；　in　his　estimation；　Newman　was　an　inpetent　fool。　Women　and　science　did　not　mix。
　　
　　'Let　me　tell　you　what　happened　as　I　see　it！'　Newman　thumped　the　desk　with　his　fist。
　　
　　'Go　on；　then；'　Haynes　released　with　a　sigh；　adjusting　his　spectacles。　He　glanced　at　Rickers；　who　had　returned　to　the　window　and　was　staring　out　across　Cannock　Chase。
　　
　　'I　reckon；'　Professor　Newman　began　glancing　at　Haynes　and　then　across　at　Rickers；　'that　the　reason　for　those　horses　being　loose　on　the　road　was　that　they　had　been　upset　by　the　bats。　Unfortunately；　out　of　the　whole　saga　there　is　no　one　left　alive　to　tell　us　what　really　happened。　The　girl　and　her　father　have　both　died　as　a　result　of　some　strange　form　of　meningitis　which　is　identical　to　that　from　which　the　bats　were　dying　in　my　laboratory。　Unfortunately　the　virus　dies　with　the　victim；　and　the　only　way　in　which　its　true　form　can　be　determined　is　to　examine　it　in　the　body　of　a　sufferer　before　death　occurs。　So　far　we　haven't　been　afforded　that　opportunity。　In　the　final　stages；　the　disease　brings　on　paralysis　and　madness。　Williams　attacked　and　strangled　his　wife　before　the　paralysis　claimed　him。　As　for　the　bats；　they　just　go　crazy；　flying　blindly。　They　scared　the　horses　out　of　the　stables　and　the　field　on　to　the　road。　The　driver　of　that　car　was　just　unfortunate…'
　　
　　'He'd　been　drinking；'　Haynes　interrupted。
　　
　　'Maybe　so；　but　that　doesn't　alter　the　fact　that　the　horses　were　stampeding　crazily　down　the　road。　And　we　must　also　face　up　to　the　fact　that　bats　carrying　this　virus　are　loose　in　the　countryside。　I　had　hoped　that　those　which　escaped　might　die　quickly　without　harming　anybody　or　anything；　but　we　must　face　the　thought　that　some　of　them　are　carriers。　They　won't　die　from　the　disease　themselves；　but　they'll　pass　it　on　to　other　bats；　and　I　dread　to　think　how　far　it　will　spread。'
　　
　　Rickers　laughed　harshly。
　　
　　'You're　crazy；　Newman；'　he　said。　'I've　said　it　before；　and　I'll　say　it　again…the　whole　thing　is　preposterous。　You　made　a　balls…up　of　your　experiments；　a　few　bats　died；　and　if　your　theories　became　known　outside　this　Research　Centre　half　the　population　would　be　panicking。'
　　
　　'All　right。'　Brian　Newman　stood　up；　shaking　his…head。
　　
　　'Have　ft　your　own　way。　But　don't　say　I　haven't　warned　you。　Any　time　now　those　bats　will　start　to　mate。　About　forty　per　cent　of　those　which　are　carriers　could　pass　the　virus　on　to　their　young；　creating　a　new　generation　of　carriers　which　won't　die。　A　bat　can　live　from　four　to　twelve　years；　and　during　that　time　they'll　be　spreading　this　plague；　breeding　again。　Seven　weeks　from　now　the　whole　thing　could　be　totally　out　of　control；　and　we　won't　be　able　to　do　a　thing　to　stop　it。　The　bubonic　plague　outbreaks　of　the　Middle　Ages　will　seem　like　head…colds　by　parison。'
　　
　　'And　supposing　you're　correct　in　your　assumptions？'　Haynes　smiled　in　the　manner　of　a　tolerant　uncle　who　has　just　listened　to　the　fantasies　of　an　infant　nephew。　'How　do　you　propose　halting　the　spread　of　this　。。。　this　mutated　meningitis　virus？'
　　
　　'That　I　can't　say　right　now。'　Newman　was　tight…lipped。　'Maybe　I　can　find　an　antidote　which　neutralises　the　poisons　produced　in　the　body　by　the　germs；　perhaps　by　taking　a　blood　sample　from　a　bat　which　has　recovered　from　the　disease　and　then　injecting　it　into　an　infected　one；　though　I　must　admit　I　don't　foresee　any　survivors　in　this　instance。　We　can　try　to　determine　the　reasons　for　immunity　in　the　case　of　the　carriers。　In　any　case　I'll　either　have　to　try　to　recapture　some　of　the　escaped　bats；　or　inject　the　virus　into　some　more　and　start　again　from　scratch。'
　　
　　'If　you're　going　to　do　that；'　Haynes　snapped；　'then　you　do　it　in　your　own　time。　You　were　allocated　one　month　for　this　meningitis　experiment。　You　have　already　submitted　a　negative　report　and　admitted　failure。　I　can't　allow　you　to　waste　any　more　time　on　it。　There　are　far　more　important　research　matters　to　be　attended　to。'
　　
　　'OK；'　Newman　retorted　pausing　in　the　doorway。　'Ill　do　it　in　my　own　time。　I　take　it　you'll　have　no　objections　to　my　using　the　laboratory　in　the　evenings　and　at　weekends？　Miss　Wylie　will　assist　me。'
　　
　　'Carry　on。'　Haynes　picked　up　a　folder　and　beckoned　to　Rickers。　'You　can　use　the　place；　but　don't　go　wasting　our　time。'
　　
　　As　Brian　Newman　closed　the　door　and　walked　down　the　corridor　towards　his　own　laboratory　he　could　hear　Haynes　and　Rickers　laughing。
　　
　　'Well？'　Susan　Wylie　looked　up　as　he　entered　the　small　lab。　'What　are　their　reactions？'
　　
　　'Ridicule；　naturally；'　Newman　told　her。　He　walked　across　to　the　open　window　and　gazed　out　on　the　sunlit　Cannock　Chase。　'What　else　could　one　expect　from　a　guy　like　Rickers？　And　in　the　meantime；　out　there；　there's　a　death…force　gathering　which　will　sweep　across　this　country　like　a　swarm　of　locusts。'
　　
　　'What　are　we　going　to　do？'　she　asked；　laying　a　hand　on　his　arm。
　　
　　'Work　like　hell　to　try　and　find　an　anti…toxin；'　he　said。　'I'd　appreciate　your　help；　but　it　won't　be　in　the　government's　time；　nor　will　there　be　any　remuneration　for　evening　work　and　weekends；　and　at　the　end　of　it　all　we　may　have　absolutely　nothing　to　show　for　our　efforts。'