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'But maybe they'll kill 'em after all。 I'd like that。 Snakes are horrible。'
'e on。' Veronica grabbed her son's hand and pulled him along with her； almost running until they reached the open gate that led out into the street by the bus…stop。
Veronica Jones felt foolish now。 It had been the excessive heat； the eerie lighting in the reptile house which had been responsible。 She was just glad that nobody there had recognised her； witnessed her terror。 Everything was going to be all right now。
All the same； that night mother and son had a dual nightmare in the cramped bed which they shared in the council flat。
In the darkness the snakes came； condemned creatures that had escaped from their death cells； slithering their way up the steep flights of stairs and across the dingy ill…lit landings until they smelled out flat number 117。 Their； serpent bodies shrank and flattened； enabling them to pass beneath the warped door； guided by that sour human body odour emanating from the woman who had scorned and defied them。
Growing again to their full size once they were within； wriggling and sliding up on to the bed； wrapping themselves around the warm…blooded forms of the adult and the boy； delighting in the screams of their victims； entwining them until their death throes ceased。
And then moving on in search of others 。 。 。
'It was only a bad dream。' Veronica forted the sobbing Ian until the first light of a summer dawn crept through the dirt…stained bedroom window。
'It was real。' he muttered。 'But they've gone now。'
'It's always worse at night。' She held him close and kissed him。 'Tell you what； tonight we'll sleep with the light on。' She wondered how much the meter would take and regretted her rash statement。 'It's always all right in the light。'
But she still had that uneasy feeling and wondered how long it would take to get yesterday out of her system。 Even in full daylight she could still see those snakes； the way they glared their hate out of their prisons； desperate hopeless inmates willing to risk death rather than succumb to a life of incarceration。
They would kill if they could； there was no doubt in Veronica's mind about that。
Chapter 2
'HEY。' THERE was a cry of indignation mingled with horror from the fair…haired man in dungarees standing back from the big van。 'This bloody ain't on。 No； it bloody ain't and I'm not standing for it。'
The two workmen carrying the large glass case covered with a soiled and torn dust sheet lowered it to the floor of the van and turned to the speaker。 'What bloody ain't on； mate？'
'That。' Ken Wilson's normally pale features had turned deathly white。 'Nobody told me the consignment was 。。。 was fucking snakes？
'Nothin' to do with you。' One of the workmen drew himself up to his full height and his expression hardened。 'Why should it be？ You're just the bleedin' driver。'
'I refuse；' Wilson began to bluster； but deep down he already accepted the futility of his protests。 He had been lucky to get this driving job； he might have to wait months； years to get another。 'I can't stand bloody snakes。 The very thought of 'em makes me ill。'
'They'll be safely locked up in the back of the van；' the second workman intervened； tried to cool it。 The last thing they wanted was a bloody driver refusing to take the snakes up north。 He visualised union intervention； maybe an embargo on the transport of all dangerous animals。 A little diplomacy was called for。 'You won't even see 'em； mate。 They'll all be stacked in the back； covered up； locked up； and when you get to the other end you'll have 'em unloaded for you。 AH on a plate and you don't have to do anything except drive from A to B。 Can't see what you're plaining about。 Christ； yesterday we were moving the elephants and giraffes。'
'All right； all right。' Ken Wilson puckered his lips； hoped the others didn't notice the way his skin goosepimpled and a shudder shook his body。 'I'll take 'em。 Just wish somebody had had the mon courtesy to tell me first what the load would be。 I thought it'd probably be monkeys。'
'They went Wednesday。'
Wilson turned away。 There was a cafeteria some fifty yards across the children's playground but he could tell from here that it was closed。 You sensed the desolation； the atmosphere of a place that had once been alive with animals and sightseers and was now suddenly dead。 A sadness that you couldn't escape even as an onlooker。
Some more men in overalls were struggling out of a narrow doorway with a cage that reminded Ken of a coffin。 It was bigger； in fact； the one side a hinged glass partition。 He didn't want to look； tried to turn his head away； but all the same he looked。
Jesus Christ！ There were no prizes for guessing that that was a python。 As thick as his own arm； with brown and green markings that would have camouflaged it almost anywhere； not moving。 Maybe it was dead。 No； that was too much to hope for。 Even coiled it filled the container and he found himself mentally calculating the constrictor's length； it had to be eighteen； twenty feet； possibly more。 Christ only knew what other horrors were down in that underground place waiting to be brought up and loaded into the van。 And they would be his travelling panions for the next five or six hours！ Do like the man said； forget about 'em； they're just a cargo； units in transit。 No； he couldn't shut them out of his mind； that was impossible。 Once he got out of here he would go like hell as soon as he hit the motorway； push the old wagon to its limit until he reached his destination。 e on； you buggers； get her loaded up and let's get the job done。
It was hotter today than it had been yesterday； more of a sultry heat with cloud formations building up in the western sky。 The driver had listened to the weather forecast on the way down…hot and dry being thundery towards mid…afternoon。
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 had