'It's still Eric though.1 Her voice was subdued, she wanted to cry but couldn't. 'My Eric.'
They've surrounded the house,' he muttered. 'We've got a fight on our hands. There are hundreds of them in the hills, starving and without adequate homes. It's them or us, I'm afraid.'
She nodded dumbly. I still want to go to Eric though. If we've got to die then I want to be with him. But she made no move towards the door, just asked, 'What are we going to do, then?'
'Nothing much we can do except fight.' He tried to smile. 'They're frightened of guns, I've proved that. It all depends on how determined they are. We'd better get back upstairs, the bedroom window is the best place to hold them off from.'
They went back upstairs and Jon returned to the window, looked out. There was nobody in sight, just those three bloody corpses in the yard. He felt physically sick, Christ, it was bloody murder whichever way you looked at it; they had been ordinary people like himself once.
And if Eric Atkinson was out there somewhere then the chances were... his heart threatened to stop then speeded up ... so was Jackie.
He rested the shotgun on the window-sill and waited for daylight.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JACKIE KNEW by the time she reached the forest that she had thrown off her pursuers, temporarily at least. But the dog was still on her trail.
She had been aware of it about a mile back. On the slopes below her she had caught a glimpse of it as it darted from gorse bush to gorse bush snuffling on her scent, a huge black shaggy thing which she recognised. Kuz's hound, the hellish creature he had trained to run down deer, take them in full flight and tear their throats out. It had been a stray, an outcast from one of the wild packs that inhabited these hills but Kuz had taken it into the village and now it knew only one master. It had had its ordersrun down the woman! And it would run until its heart burst.
It could have caught up with her earlier but possibly it hesitated, hung back because it knew her and was uncertain. But now its mind was made up and it had her scent. It had adapted to hunting humans.
Jackie could not go much further. Her legs had gone soft and if she did not give them a respite they would take it. A pain in her side, a stitch that had her doubling up. She could not outrun the creature, neither could she destroy her scent and hide from it. There was only one possible chance . . . she saw the trees, their low branches, so easy to climb . . .
Even as she reached for a bough and was about to haul herself up she heard the low moans, groans of pain and hopelessness, physical and mental agony. Delirium.
She hesitated, looked behind her once more. There was no sign of the dog but it could not be far away. Safety lay within her grasp.
A cry, a hoarse whispered shout of pain as though whoever it was had lost the strength to give full voice. She peered into the darkness, a mass of dark shapes that were tree trunks and branches, could have been anything. The noise came again, nearer than she had at first thought. Climb up into the boughs whilst there is still time. No, somebody needs help. The female protective instinct prevailed.
She walked forward, outstretched arms warding off low branches, protecting her face. That dog could not be far away now. She ought not to linger. It might be a trap. It might . . .
Something grabbed her ankle, a tightening grip that would have thrown her off balance had she not clutched at a branch. She gasped, tried to drag herself away but the hold on her was too strong to break. A groan but there was nothing threatening in it. Pain, despair.
Jackie looked down, could just make out the shape of a man on the pine-needles, one who was incapable of doing anything more than hold on to her. He was either ill or injured.
'What is the matter?' she whispered, thought about the dog again. There was not much time, there couldn't be.
'Snake,' he grunted, held up his other arm for a second but its weight was too much for him. 'I am dying.'
His hold on her relaxed; she dropped to her knees, felt at his arm. The hairy flesh was very swollen, throbbing, so hot. His whole body was lathered in sweat. She could see his eyes in the blackness, the whites showing starkly.
'Sylvia.' His voice altered to a tongue which she did not understand. 'Where is Sylvia? They haven't taken her, have they? I must see Sylvia but I am too weak. Too weak.'
'I do not understand,' she answered him. This strange language frightened her. Words like Phil Winder had used but this man was not one of the smooth-skinned race. So why did he talk like one?
She listened intently for a second. Twigs cracked somewhere not far away. That dog . . . She wondered if she could lift this man up into the trees.
'A dog is following me,' she breathed. *A fierce one that will kill us both. If I help you can you climb up into the branches of this tree?'
There was silence for a moment. Those eyes dulled, brightened again. 'Where is Sylvia?'
Jackie grasped his uninjured arm, pulled with all her strength. Perhaps she could make him understand. He groaned, began to .push with his legs. That's it, now try and hold on to this branch. A slow process and at any second that loathsome hound might show up.
He gripped the branch and she lifted his feet up on to a lower one. Pull and I will push. The bough creaked but somehow she got him up there. Pushed again. Now he was lying across a hammock of interlaced fir branches; they sagged but held. It would have to do, she could not get him any further.
Jackie had just taken the weight of her body on another thick branch when she heard the dog coming. A fast trot now, panting heavily, the need for caution gone. The beast knew its prey could not outrun it now.
Her sweat went cold, she could smell its stale sweaty odour, heard the low killing growl in its throat. She gripped the branch, kicked her legs and swung her body at the same time, a trapeze artist getting early momentum, a human pendulum gathering speed.
Just in time! She was aware of the dog's spring, its snapping slavering jaws, mad eyes glinting in the forest blackness. Had it anticipated her swing it would have hit her, instead it leaped behind, missed and fell back. It snarled its fury, head upturned, waiting for her to fall, tensed and ready, hackles raised.
Jackie grabbed another bough, forced her protesting muscles into one last tremendous effort. She made it, hauled herself up and gave a sob of relief as she lay across the branches, a couple of feet above her unknown companion.
The dog barked, howled, jumped at the tree trunk, its vicious claws shredding the bark, trying for a hold but failing. It snarled, sat back on its haunches, stared at the two humans with sheer malevolence.
Jackie looked down at the man. His body was limp but with luck the branches would hold. If they didn't . . .
She could smell the animal's breath, foul vapours that drifted up to her, reeked of putrid flesh. A scavenger. Jaws that had killed, mutilated. A ravening beast whose only thought was to rip human flesh to bloody shreds, devour it raw. Canine madness.
She trembled, wished she had some water. The stream she had splashed through earlier, its icy cold current serving to revive her, came back to taunt her. She should have paused to slake her thirst but there had not been time. Likewise she had not eaten for several hours. Hungry, thirsty, exhausted, and afraid to sleep.
The dog's jaws opened. Not a snarl, something much more sinister. A yawn, a noisy slow relaxation that posed the worst threat of all. The creature had overcome its initial fury and frustration, now it was resorting to patience and cunning. It was in no hurry. Its prey was trapped in the tree above it and there was no way of escape. It could rest and watch. Sleep if necessary, because its senses were so alert that the slightest movement would wake it instantly. Time was on its side.
Jackie shivered, moved slightly and dislodged a shower of icy raindrops out of the foliage above. Staring at that shape below, the wolf-like silhouette with eyes that glowed green fire.