‘That sounds great. I’ll see you soon.’
Allan put down the phone. He got up from behind the desk, groaning against the ache in his back. He stared at the pile of books and at the notes he’d been making. On an impulse he stacked up the books and took them with him as he left the lab. He made his way out of the building, nodding to the security man. Tossing the books on the passenger seat Allan started the Capri and drove away from the hospital. He turned the car on to the road and put his foot down. The rush-hour traffic had been and gone, so he had the road to himself. Long Point was deserted too. The town’s nightlife wouldn’t commence for another half-hour. The town slipped behind him. Allan cruised steadily along the narrow road, searching for the side-road that would lead him to Chris’s cottage. He almost missed it. Touching the Capri’s brake he brought the car to a shuddering halt. Spinning the steering wheel, he took the car on to the side-road. Chris’s neat cottage was the last in line. It stood in its own carefully tended gardens, surrounded by bloom-filled rose bushes and green lawns. Easing the Capri into the drive Allan parked behind Chris’s own car. He picked up the pile of books and climbed out, making his way to the cottage’s front door. It opened before he reached it, and Chris stood there.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Come on inside.’
Allan stepped through the door. The room he entered was low-ceilinged, furnished with care. It gave him a comfortable feeling, and made him want to forget his own sparse, modern flat.
Tut your homework down,’ Chris said.
Allan remembered the books he was carrying. He looked round awkwardly, not sure where to put them. Chris reached out and took them from him, placing them on a small table by the wall.
‘Are you hungry?’ she asked.
He realized he was. ‘Starving.’
‘Thank the Lord for that,’ Chris laughed. ‘I’ve got two huge steaks cooking and enough salad to hold a vegetarian banquet.’
‘That sounds fine.’
‘I’ll be a few minutes,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you sit down and relax.’
She guided him to a big, soft armchair and Allan sank gratefully into the sensual embrace of the cushions, stretching his long legs. He watched Chris leave the room, noticing that she was wearing a clinging, one-piece suit in some soft material. It was a rich golden-yellow shade that complemented her mass of shining dark hair. He allowed himself the luxury of total relaxation, forcing the day’s events completely from his mind. They would still be around in the morning - and with his luck they’d most probably double tomorrow.
‘Allan!’
The soft voice reached him from a long way off. He opened his eyes, blinking away the heaviness. Chris was leaning over the arm of the chair, grinning down at him.
‘Come on, sleepy, food’s on the table.’
It was starting to get dark by the time they finished the meal. Chris served coffee and taking their cups with them they crossed to the armchairs. Chris switched on a low lamp, then drew the curtains across the darkening windows.
‘It’s a nice place,’ Allan said.
‘I like it.’
‘How long have you lived here?’
‘All my life,’ she said, sitting down opposite him. She smiled at his expression. ‘In my mind I have lived here all my life. This has been my dream house ever since I can remember. It only became reality three years ago.’
Allan drank his coffee and leaned back in his armchair. He felt very envious of Chris and her secure, comfortable home. He was surprised at his feelings; envy was not a weakness he gave in to.
‘Can I show you the paper?’ Chris asked some time later.
She handed Allan a copy of the Long Point News. The feature was on the front page. Allan gave a low groan.
‘My God, Camperly’s going to bury me over this!’ He scanned the columns. ‘Did I say that? I suppose I must have done.’
The article explained how Doctor Allan Brady of the Tropical Diseases Research Unit had established the identity of the mysterious creatures responsible for a number of deaths in the area. The creatures in question, it turned out, were scorpions. There was a little more, most of it pure speculation on the part of the reporter. To drive in the nails even deeper the paper had printed a large black headline over the article: SCORPIONS AT LARGE!
‘Was it a scorpion that stung Les?’ Chris asked.
Tm pretty certain it was.’
‘How did you find out? From someone who was stung?’
Allan nodded. ‘A workman who’d been up on the coast road got himself stung on the arm. He was able to describe in detail what had stung him. And so were a number of his workmates.’
‘But, Allan, scorpions aren’t native to this country. All right - I’ll accept one, maybe two. But the way things have been happening it reads as though there are lots of them. That couldn’t be true, could it?’
‘I’m not sure. You see, there is a quite large colony of scorpions in this area.’
Chris stared at him in disbelief. ‘Where?’ she asked.
‘About three miles along the coast is that abandoned dock complex. It’s been closed down for over ten years. There are dozens of scorpions living there. They’ve been there for fifty-odd years. Originally they must have come ashore from some cargo boat - maybe only one or two, perhaps only a female who laid her eggs. But the scorpions survived and established themselves. Over the years they multiplied and adapted to their new environment. The scorpions who nest in the docks are small and completely harmless as far as we know. Over the years they lost the use of their stings.’
‘Until now, that is,’ Chris said. ‘Do you think something has happened? That these harmless scorpions aren’t harmless any longer?’
‘Right now, I’m ready to believe anything.’ Allan tried to hold back a powerful yawn but he failed. ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Maybe it’s time I left.’
Chris leaned over and took his empty coffee cup. ‘How about another drink?’
She crossed the room and filled both their cups from the warm pot. A slight noise caught her attention. She crossed to a window and eased back the curtain. Heavy rain had started to fall, large drops spattering against the glass. Chris let the curtain fall back into place. She took the coffee and returned to the armchairs. Placing the cups on the low table she knelt before the wide fireplace and turned on the gas-fire set at the back of the hearth.
‘It’s raining like mad out there,’ she said.
Allan groaned wearily, the thought of dragging himself out into the wet night filling him with disgust. He felt the warmth reaching out from the gas-fire. Chris handed him the cup of coffee.
‘No need to rush off,’ she said.
They sat and talked, listened to the rain slapping against the cottage, watched the comforting glow spill out from the fire. Much later Chris excused herself and vanished upstairs. Allan sat up, stretching lazily. He glanced at his watch and saw with a shock that it was well past midnight. He heard the rain beating against the windows, felt the pull of the armchair and muttered, sod it, as he lay back. Lulled by the warmth of the fire Allan’s eyes drooped…
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and jerked awake. The room was in semi-darkness. Allan turned his head and saw Chris kneeling beside his chair. He stared at her, his mind still muzzy from sleep.
‘Do you think you could climb the stairs?’ she asked softly.
‘Stairs?’ he asked, puzzled.
‘Yes. It’s time you were in bed, Doctor Brady.’
She helped him stand up, then took his hand and led him across the room and up the short flight of stairs. He was too sleepy to raise any protest - even if he’d wanted to. By the time they reached the top of the stairs Allan had realized there was something different about Chris. The yellow suit had gone, replaced by a thin robe that molded itself to her supple young figure. He was still enjoying the view of her shapely rear when Chris took him through a door and into a bedroom.
‘I’m afraid it’s the only one I’ve got,’ s
he said, without too much of an apology in her tone. ‘But the bed’s rather on the large size.’
It was the least subtle invitation Allan Brady had ever received from a woman - but at that moment it might have been the most sophisticated. He turned, just as Chris switched off the light. The room dimmed, only a pale glimmer of light shafting in through the uncurtained window.
‘Can you manage?’ Chris’s voice whispered out of the shadows.
Allan began to form some witty remark, but his voice had translated itself into an unintelligible croak that made him sound like an amorous frog. He kept quiet and undressed as casually as he could. Somewhere across the room he heard the bed creak very gently, heard the soft glide of flesh against cotton sheets. He padded across the room, bumping against the side of the bed, and groped his way in. Pulling the covers over him he lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. There was a brief silence.
‘It’s not that large,’ Chris said out of the darkness, and for a moment Allan wondered if she knew something he didn’t. Then he realized she was referring to the size of the bed, and the absurdity of his thoughts almost caused him to burst out laughing. ‘Well, is it?’ Chris asked.
‘I’ll time you if you come on over,’ he said.
She giggled softly and slid across to him. Her slim, warm hands touched his face, soft lips seeking his. Allan drew his arms around her lovely body, pulling her tight against him, and that was how they stayed. For the moment it was enough.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The rain caught a number of them out in the open. The dark skies had been filling with swollen clouds for a few hours now, and suddenly the rain came slanting down. The first drops dusted the dry earth, being swiftly absorbed, but as the rain increased in intensity, there was nowhere else for it to go so it began to pool and gather. It flattened the tall blades of grass, exposing the very ground, and exposing, too, the scorpions that were out foraging for food. As the rain struck their hard, shell-like bodies, they halted and probed the air with their claw-tipped arms. After a time realization came to them that the rain did not present an immediate threat. Even so it seemed to affect their progress. They began to scurry back and forth, their movements hurried, abrupt, the flexing tails curling over their wet backs.
As if with a single thought they turned and began to retrace their path through the grass. The darkness did little to hinder them. They knew with an inbred instinct the way back to the breeding ground. Scurrying lightly over the sodden ground they returned to the place they had made their home. Almost reluctantly they crawled under cover, gathering at the entrance for a while watching the rain… waiting… But it did not cease. The scorpions slid silently into the shadows. Soon the rain would stop - and when it did they could emerge once again…
***
Lemmy Tyson stirred uncomfortably in his sleep. He wriggled his behind on the hard surface, wishing he had something a little more comfortable beneath him. He swore softly, opening his eyes a fraction, and peering out from his shelter. The rain was still pelting down out of a black sky. Lemmy sniffed. Christ, it was cold! That was just like the weather. For weeks now it had been nothing but blazing sunshine. Long hot days and sweltering nights. And now look at it! Fucking rain! He struggled to sit up, groping in the pocket of his filthy, smelly old raincoat. His grubby fingers closed over the bottle of whisky. Lemmy pulled it from his pocket, shaking the bottle and listening to the sloshing sound it made. A swig of that should keep me warm, he decided. He unscrewed the cap, sniffing the fumes that rose from the bottle. He hesitated before he raised it to his lips, recalling how he’d nicked the bottle from the front seat of the Rolls-Royce he’d spotted parked off the road. He’d crept up to the car, keeping his eyes open for the owner, and had peered in through one of the side windows. The first thing he’d seen was the couple on the rear seat. A middle-aged man and a girl who couldn’t have been more than nineteen. There they were, in broad daylight, naked as anyone could be, and going at it as if sex was about to be rationed. For a while Lemmy hadn’t been able to tear his eyes away from the pair. Reluctantly he had edged towards the front of the car. The passenger door window was down and there, resting on the rich leather seat was a full, sealed bottle of expensive whisky. Lemmy hadn’t hesitated. He’d stretched his arm through the open window and deftly lifted the bottle off the seat. The sounds coming from the rear seat told him that lust, rather than honor, was about to be satisfied, so Lemmy had slipped quickly into the undergrowth.
That had been three days ago. The bottle was a big one, and Lemmy had worked out that he could make it last for at least four more days if he rationed himself. He had already had his daily quota, but circumstances had changed. When a man was on the road he had to be prepared to make changes at a moment’s notice. This was one of those times. Lemmy put the bottle to his lips and took a long swallow. The whisky flowed down his throat and warmed his stomach. He leaned back, sighing contentedly. The remembrance of the couple in the back of the Rolls stayed with him. Lemmy found himself forming an image of the girl again. Blonde she’d been, with the sort of rounded, lush young body he favored himself. Not that he got the chance to indulge much these days - but if he ever did she was the type he’d go for. He took another swallow of whisky. It seemed to stimulate his thoughts. Though he hadn’t been able to see all of her, on account of the man lying on top, Lemmy had pleasant memories of the girl’s white legs, the curve of one hip, her soft buttocks raised off the seat as she arched her body under the man. There was a lingering image of one exposed breast, all full and white, trembling softly as the girl squirmed, the big nipple all red and jutting. Lemmy swallowed. He felt himself growing hard and fumbled under his coat, opening the front of his pants. It was the best he’d get tonight! He closed his fingers over his stiffening organ, starting to fantasies about nineteen-year-old blondes in the back of big cars.
He was so withdrawn from reality that it was some time before he became aware of the movement. Lemmy sat upright, flinging the whisky bottle from him in a reflex action. His other hand withdrew from his clothing, and he began to slap at his clothes, lurching to his feet. He began to yell… to scream… to roar in pure terror.
His body was alive with wriggling, clawing, biting things. They were all over him, under his clothing, scaly legs crawling over his puckering flesh. Lemmy began to stagger about, hopping from one foot to the other. Desperately he began to strike his own body, hoping to crush the things. One or two squashed and burst, spreading a pulpy wetness across his flesh. He went on striking at them, ignoring the hurt he was inflicting upon himself. It didn’t matter, he had to get the things off. His actions only seemed to enrage the creatures and they began to tear at his flesh with increased ferocity.
In his agony he turned and ran out into the pouring rain, his numbed mind thinking that the downpour might wash them away. He slipped and slithered on the wet ground, losing his balance and falling. He writhed about in the muddy earth. A high, shrill scream burst from his throat as one of the crawling horrors worked its way into his groin, clawing at the tender flesh. Lemmy plunged both hands between his legs and snatched the thing free, ignoring the snapping claws, the curving tail that kept driving its sting into his flesh.
‘Got you… you bugger!… ‘ Lemmy screamed wildly, and closed his hands over the twisting body. It crunched between his palms, the body bursting open, filling his hands with a revolting pulpy mess.
He was still enjoying his minor victory as one of the things crawled up from his chest and over the open neck of his shirt. The sensitive membrane beneath its body detected the pulse beat in the external carotid artery in the side of Lemmy’s neck. The movement seemed to excite it and it began to claw at the soft flesh directly over the artery. Blood began to bubble from the ragged wound, spurting over the hard body. As pain exploded fiercely across Lemmy’s throat his fingers clutched at the blood-slick thing clinging to his neck. As he got a grip on the wriggling body and jerked it away, one of its snapping claws sliced open the exposed
carotid artery. A thick jet of bright blood spurted from the gashed vein. With each beat of Lemmy’s racing heart the blood gushed out. Lemmy clamped a hand over the wound in a vain attempt to stem the flow of blood. It still came, squirting from between his fingers and streaming down his arm. He staggered to his feet and began to run in aimless circles. He didn’t know what to do or where to go. He simply ran, in total, blind panic.
And in that panic he ran away from the coast road, down the sloping grass, and stepped over the edge of the high cliffs overlooking the sea. It was almost a three-hundred-foot drop, straight down. Lemmy fell screaming all the way, his body turning over and over. The turning and the screaming ceased in the same instant. His body struck hard rock at the base of the cliff. The impact shattered every bone in his body, compressing flesh and organs. Bone was thrust out through flesh, internal organs erupting through the ruptured trunk of the body. The skull burst apart like a smashed egg, the brains spattering across the rock, wiping out everything that had been Lemmy Tyson in one split second of time.
The scorpions clinging to Lemmy’s body survived for the most part. Three of them were no more than pulpy smears on the rock. But five of them, entangled in Lemmy’s clothing, crawled out of the sodden remains. They huddled together on the slimy surface of the rock until a wave crashed down on the rock and swept them out to sea. Little by little, the remains of Lemmy Tyson were washed from the rocks, sluiced away by the recurrent waves, until by dawn there was no sign left at all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘I think I’ve uncovered something about the nuclear plant,’ Chris said as they ate breakfast.
They were sitting up in bed with a large tray between them. Chris had woken early, gone down to the kitchen, and returned with coffee and toast.
‘Something important?’ he asked.
‘First I have to make sure of my facts,’ Chris said. ‘But what I’ve got points to a radiation leak that went undiscovered for a long time - and was then conveniently hushed up.’
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