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dom。
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; rigor mortis having retained the expression of viciousness which the rodent had worn in life。
Tyler used a stick to part the jaws of the trap; kicking the corpse to one side and noting its pink underside; covered with more cancerous growths which had not reached maturity before death had claimed the host。
'Bloody mixy in rats?' He shook his head; and began the task of resetting the trap in the tunnel。
Ken Tyler had seventeen traps set on Castle Ring。 On average four or five caught victims daily。 Two or three were usually sprung without killing。 This morning; twelve had killed。 All the creatures were rats; and every one was in the final stages of this terrible disease。
The gamekeeper was puzzled。 It was as though the vermin had entered the dark tunnels searching for a place in which to end their lives; their usual alertness for traps having been nullified。 He made his way towards the woods。 There was a small pool hidden amidst a dense reed…bed。 Sometimes there were mallard on it; and often a brace of these found their way into the Tyler's larder without his employer being aware of it。
Stealthily he crept up on the pond。 The mist was thicker here; screening his approach。 He stiffened; half…crouching; easing forward the safety…catch on his gun。 There was definitely something on the water this morning; unrecognisable shapes in the fog。
He peered intently。 There was something unnatural about the whole scene。 It was lifeless。 Not a splash or a ripple on the surface。
He stepped forward; his boots splashing in the shallows; anticipating an alarmed quacking and frenzied wing beats as ducks took to the air。 But nothing happened。 There was no sound other than his own movements in the clammy stillness。
Then he felt the bile rise in his throat as he recognised the shapes。 Rats。 Floating; bellies uppermost; legs rigid。 And those same cancerous growths all over them。
'Jesus!' He backed away on to firm land。
Tyler was trembling as he entered the wood。 Something unnatural was happening all around him this morning。 Not that this hadn't been so for weeks on end now; but this was far worse。 More horrible。 A new kind of death。
The ground beneath the trees was devoid of undergrowth。 Only odd fronds of bracken sprouted at intervals; for seldom did the sunlight penetrate the evergreen foliage of the tar pines。 Nothing else grew here。
He trod on a bat before he noticed others lying beneath the trees; his heavy…soled boots squashing it to pulp; splitting open the growth which incorporated most of its body; thick yellowish pus mingling with the blood as it squelched out。
'Ugh!' He scraped his boot on the carpet of pine…needles in an endeavour to wipe off the sticky mess。 It smelled; and he backed away from it: a sickly; penetrating odour like a mixture of vomit and excreta。 There were bats lying dead all around him; as though a whole roost of them had been stricken in the night。 And every one of the tiny creatures was disfigured by those same growths。
Tyler was sweating。 Carefully he made his way to the other end of the wood; stepping over and around the bats; taking care not to tread on any more。 He paused once; thinking that he saw a grotesque wingless bat; bloated with death; amongst some others。 Then he saw it was a field…mouse。 He wondered why it had not died in its hole; and decided that perhaps; unlike some of the rats in his tunnel…traps; it had surfaced in quest of air and light。
He started as something flapped silently from a branch above his head and quickly disappeared into the fog。 An owl。 Another species which would suffer in the long run if it was deprived of these rodents which were its natural prey。
Professor Brian Newman and Susan Wylie returned from the Biological Research Centre just in time for the televised news at ten 'O'clock。 A reporter was talking in one of the main Birmingham thoroughfares; with blackened skeletons of buildings all around him; people huddled into small groups; and some traffic filtering by at intervals。 Gangs of workmen wearing protective headgear were engaged in clearing…up operations;
'The weeks of terror have finally e to an end;' the reporter was saying; 'and at last people are emerging from their homes; wondering if it really happened or whether it was all one hellish nightmare。 But here is the proof of reality。' He indicated the wrecked city around him。 'Burnt out shops and office blocks; many collapsing and burying bodies beneath them。 During today alone; sixteen corpses; beyond recognition; have been recovered from the ruins of New Street Station。 The fighting is over; and the restrictions which have been in force throughout the Midlands were lifted today。 Members of the British Volunteer Force are assisting in site clearance; and many civilians have joined in to help also。 But the gladdening news is that the bats from hell; the disease…carrying creatures which have been responsible for the thousands killed and a state of near…an