He opened the door and stepped outside. It was warm, almost like summer, and too nice to stay indoors. He headed across the street to where the soldiers were grouped around the small tank. He noted that someone had already supplied them with beer.
'Could do with a job like this every week,' a corporal was telling some young girls who were hanging around. 'Gives a chap time to appreciate life. No fear of getting a sniper's bullet in the back every minute of the day. For me, this here beast can take its time. Keep showin' up just enough to keep the top-brass happy. After all we don't want to kill it too soon do we ?'
Peals of laughter. Southgate smiled. The Slime Beast was certainly doing everybody a big favour.
The slight breeze was blowing off the land. It made a pleasant change. Gave a man a whiff of the farms, of newly harvested potatoes and barley stubble.
Southgate paused. His nostrils twitched. It seemed like somebody's spuds were going rotten already. Or maybe it was the large pond beyond the village, stagnant after the dry spell, its surface covered with floating algae. Somehow the foul odour seemed familiar.
The laughter around the tank increased. Somebody brought some more beer. Then came the first scream. Loud and piercing embodying every vestige of human terror. It was one of the girls about a hundred yards inland from the tank. One of the young soldiers was with her. They had been enjoying themselves in the seclusion of a side alley... until they discovered that they were no longer alone.
The creature seemed to materialise out of the shadows. They might have smelled it first had their attention not been diverted elsewhere. The apparent slowness of the Slime Beast was deceptive. Its scaly webbed claw flashed up and down in one blur of shivering moonlight The talons touched flesh, closed and then pulled. The girl's left breast came away in one piece trailing bloody roots and exposing a pumping gushing heart in a gaping hole.
The soldier's reactions were hindered by the fact that his trousers and pants were around his ankles. His hand, reached for the .303 propped up against the wall but he never made it. The beast's other claw flashed down scraping the young man's thighs as it did so. Once again it grasped flesh, and gave another tug. There was more screaming, more spurting of blood, and the soldier sank down on top of the dead girl's body, his own life's fluid mingling with hers. The most pleasurable act available to mankind had ended in death for both of them.
'What is it? What's up?' The tall sergeant fought against the drink which was beginning to dull his brain and pushed the two girls away from the tank. "There's something going on up the other end of the street Come on you chaps. Rifles at the ready!'
Five khaki-camouflaged figures advanced commando-style, yet somehow they lacked professionalism. The surroundings did not blend with the school which had taught them. The relaxed atmosphere beforehand had dulled their appetite for action, and the beer had clouded their thinking. Their foe was unreal. Had not the CO in Lincoln joked and told them that their main enemy was the superstition of a bunch of east coast peasants? This was not war.
Then they saw it! Lurking in the shadows. Crouched, watching, waiting, but not afraid.
The sergeant missed with his first shot. Splinters of brick flew from the cottage wall above the Slime Beast's head, and the slug whined harmlessly, viciously into the air. The creature turned, moving out from the shadows. Now they could all see it clearly. Its slit-like mouth was open, steadily chewing and slobbering the human flesh. Blood trickled down the hideous countenance. It gulped, swallowed, and then it roared, bellowing with anger and frustration at the continual harassing by those who sought only to fire leaden missiles at it.
The sergeant's finger was tightening on the trigger for the second time. He paused. The noise seemed to have a paralysing affect on his brain. It was as though his whole body jarred and vibrated. His skin crawled. Everybody else stopped too. It was the first time they had heard the Slime Beast give full vent to its vocal chords. The previous raspings and gruntings were like sweet melodies by comparison.
The sergeant forced himself into action. He pressed the trigger and held it back. The stabbing flashes of flame from the barrel of the automatic weapon were virtually constant. The others were firing too. Yelling 'Give it to the bastard!' They were scared. They had to boost their confidence to stop themselves from running.
The Slime Beast just stood there. Bullet after bullet was on target. Jets of thick foul slime marked (he place where each slug had struck, like pebbles thrown into a pond.
It just stood there.
'Keep at it!' the sergeant shouted There was a lull as trembling fingers fitted fresh magazines into the rifles. 'Keep firing! Mow it down. It can't take much more. Corporal get the tank round. Blow it to hell! '
The corporal turned and ran back down the street glad to be away from it for a few minutes. The watching crowd had swelled. Every upstairs window seemed to be full of watching white faces.
There was another burst of firing, and gunfire from the cottage windows too. Everybody was determined to throw some lead at this thing from the deep.
Street and houses trembled as the tank lumbered under way, sweeping round in a wide arc and heading back up the road. The corporal manipulated the searchlight. God! The creature was more terrible than ever in the circle of white light. Every detail was exposed. Slugs were still pouring into it. Puffs of grey vapour marked where each one had struck. The stench was vile.
The sergeant was moving his men well dear, at the same time shouting for the crowds to get back.
'Keep well away,' he yelled. 'Give us a chance to get the big gun on it. Blow its guts out, corporal. Give it the lot. Straight hi the belly!'
The soldier in the tank was swinging the big gun round. Then suddenly the arc of white light was empty. The Slime Beast had moved back into the shadows. Another burst of rifle fire rang out, wild and erratic this time. Windows smashed. People were screaming. The watching crowd panicked. Some ran back towards the wharf. Others pounded frantically with then' fists on locked doors.
'Hold your fire!' the sergeant yelled, not wanting half a dozen deaths to answer for. 'Keep the searchlight on it corporal!'
This was easier said than done. The Slime Beast suddenly seemed to have become gifted with cunning. No longer was it just a horrific foe relying on brute strength and fear. It clambered over the brick wall which bordered the front gardens of the terraced cottages. Now it was on all-fours, the searchlight revealing only occasional glimpses of its back as it smashed through the flimsy wooden fences separating one patch of lawn and rose bushes from the next
'Keep following it!' The four infantrymen piled on to the rumbling tank as they endeavoured to keep abreast of it Somebody leaned out of an upper-storey window and discharged both barrels of a twelve-bore at no more than five yards range. He might as well have thrown a bucket of water for all the difference it made.
The sergeant was tempted to radio for reinforcements. More men and more powerful weapons would soon put paid to it. He hesitated and changed his mind. That wasn't the way to quick promotion.
Then they lost their quarry. Somewhere it discovered an alleyway, a temporary escape route to the rear of the buildings.
The corporal brought the tank to a standstill and switched off the engine. Silence. Even the screaming stopped. 'It's bloody well disappeared sarge!'