Harry Adam Knight Fungus

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each passing moment.
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Hopefully you ll be able to avoid any such confrontations. The beauty of the
Stalwart here is that it can go practically anywhere, including through rivers
and canals. If you should spot any army vehicles ahead of you, just try to
detour around them, said Buxton.
Yeah, easy, muttered Slocock.
There are also two portable flame-throwers in a locked container clamped to
the rear of the vehicle. Not enough room for them in here, besides they d
stink the place out. Your air systems wouldn t be able to cope. But they may
come in handy when you reach London. I hear the fungus can grow pretty thick
in places. He looked at his watch. I suggest you get moving at first light,
which is less than four hours away.
Sergeant Slocock, I ll have one of my engineers give you a run-through on all
the equipment so you can familiarize yourself with it.
No need, sir, said Slocock quickly, anxious to hit the sack with his bottle.
I ll pick it up along the way.
Buxton gave him an expressionless look. He said quietly, I think it would be
a good idea to have the run-
through, Sergeant. The automatic gun controls are especially tricky.
The Major s tone of voice told Slocock it would be a waste of time arguing.
Besides, he didn t have the
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Buxton turned to Wilson. As for you, Doctor, you might as well get some
shut-eye.
All right, but first I want to check in on Kimberley.
Yeah, you do that, Doctor, said Slocock with a barely concealed sneer. And
while you re at it take her temperature for me too.
That s enough, Sergeant, said Buxton curtly. Stay here. I ll send Sergeant
Boardman along. He helped customize this beast so he can tell you everything
you need to know. And I d appreciate it if you didn t touch another drop of
what s in your kitbag. Understand?
When the Major and Wilson had gone Slocock slumped onto the bunk and pulled
the bottle out of his bag.
He took a long drink and frowned as he thought about Wilson. He d been
clucking around Kimberley like a bloody mother hen ever since they d left
Bangor. And she, the bitch, seemed to be lapping it up. Well, he d put a stop
to that somehow.
I hope you won t have any trouble with him, said Major Buxton as they left
the shed.
Wilson glanced at the young, serious-faced officer. With Slocock? Should I?
I ve been talking to his commanding officer in Belfast.
The Sergeant s a good soldier in many ways but he has a record for being a
trouble-maker. And there were certain incidents involving him that were under
investigation. .
Incidents?
Shootings. On three occasions he has shot and killed men, while on patrol,
who he claimed were carrying firearms. A gun was found on only one of them.
Apparently the other two men had no connection with the IRA. And as all three
incidents happened in a relatively short space of time it suggests that the
Sergeant has become, how shall we put it. . .?
Trigger happy?
I m afraid so. Not the sort of chap I d personally have picked for a job like
this.
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But I understand he volunteered.
Yes. Which is rather worrying, don t you think?
Wilson found Kimberley running a checklist on her medical supplies and
equipment which she d laid out on her bunk in the empty barrack room. She was
looking a little better but was still shockingly white and her army-issue
t-shirt was soaked with sweat despite the coolness of the night.
Almost time for us to have our shots, she said. Where s the Sergeant?
Still outside, playing with his battle-wagon. He then told her what Buxton
had said about Slocock. She didn t seem alarmed.
Someone who shoots first and asks questions later is the sort of man this
situation calls for. The Major s living in the past. What does he think his
men are doing out there at this very minute?
She was referring to the gunfire that had been going on in the distance ever
since they d arrived. The camp was close to the barrier. The troops strung out
along it were continually shooting at refugees who were trying to escape from
the ever-growing infected area. Even so Wilson was a little chilled by the
callousness of her words. It revealed an aspect of her that he hadn t
suspected existed.
But the Major has a point in wondering why Slocock volunteered for this job.
I mean, what man in his right mind would?
She gave him a weary smile. You did.
No. I had no choice. I was drafted. But Slocock. . .
A thought struck him. And you. You volunteered. You know our chances of
surviving until they find the means of eradicating the plague are pretty slim,
so why are you throwing your life away?
She shrugged. I want to see the fungus stopped and destroyed. It s as simple
as that.
Is it? he wondered.
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They got underway at 5.45 a.m. They were escorted to the barrier by Major
Buxton in a Saracen armored car. The barrier consisted of great rolls of
barbed wire that stretched off into the distance in both directions. Behind
the wire, small groups of soldiers were positioned at regular intervals,
backed up by the occasional armored vehicle. There was a gap in the wire where
it crossed the road. Two tanks sat in the middle of the road, plugging the
gap. They began to trundle to the side as the Stalwart approached.
The Saracen also pulled up on the side of the road.
The opening between the two tanks yawned like the mouth of some monster.
Abandon hope all ye who enter here, Wilson thought grimly.
Well, cheerio chaps, came Buxton s unnaturally jovial voice over the radio.
This is as far as I go. But I ll be with you in spirit all the way.
You have no idea what that means to me, sir, said Slocock into the mike.
Buxton ignored the sarcasm. Don t forget to report in on this frequency at
half-hourly intervals or in the event of emergencies. Goodbye and good luck.
Well, here goes nothing, said Slocock. He took a swallow from the bottle
sitting between his legs and then gunned the engine. The Stalwart lurched
forward and sped through the gap.
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It s a beautiful day, said Wilson, peering up at the cloudless blue sky.
Keep your eyes on the bloody road, growled Slocock. They d been traveling
for over half an hour now and even though Slocock intended doing most, if not
all, of the driving he thought it would be wise if
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Wilson knew the basics of handling the Stalwart. He d even instructed Wilson
on how to operate the guns, despite his insistence that he could never bring
himself to use them.
They were heading down the A449 towards Worcester in order to avoid the chaos
that was apparently surrounding Birmingham and Coventry. North of Worcester
they would try and get onto the M5, if it was clear, and proceed toward
Gloucester, then across on the A4o and M4o to London, making a wide detour
around Oxford as well.
Everything looked deceptively normal, apart from the lack of traffic on the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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