They went in the shed over there, rummaged around, then came out again and left the door swinging open, just like it is now.' Two screwdrivers, a hammer, a hacksaw, a chiselThe Black and Decker toolset Jackie had given him for Christmas was still there, so was his spare chainsaw. Consequently, within a couple of minutes he knew which of his tools were gone, a process of elimination from those still hanging from the nails above the bench. If you put everything back where you got it from as soon as you've finished with it, you'll know where to find it next time, he used to tell her. Jon Quinn had a tidy mind, Jackie used to call him obsessional. Jon tried to tell himself that it was a ram, lied to try and avoid accepting the fact that what was left of the carcass was indisputably goat. Now it was time to go back to the wood again and He backed into the yard, tipped the trailer, watched the logs showering out, bumping into a sprawling heap, one or two bowling away as though they sought to escape the splitting axe and the Rayburn. 'I heard somebody in the shed so I locked the door.' She clung on to his arm. He closed his eyes momentarily, almost yelled 'Then how the fuck did you know they were here?' Instead he spoke calmly, knew he had to reassure her. Maybe Sylvia was right, they had to go and find other survivors, //there were any others. That stemmed from spending too much time alone. He was starting to get depressed, a gradual erosion of his positive thinking. Nervous, working fast, wanting to get the job over and done with.
Chainsaws were noisy things, they let all and sundry know exactly where you were and you wouldn't hear if anything crept up on you. It won't attack a human.Īll the same he fetched the saw, kicked it into life and began cutting up a thick trunk, a deafening whine that showered sawdust everywhere. It ran before and it'll run again, like a desert jackal. Pull yourself together, Gilbert was probably killed soon after we last saw him, jumped by that dog of Gwyther's in the same way that it killed the calf. He glanced back to where he had left the chainsaw, began edging towards it. He climbed back up to the wheel, started on the bumpy journey back home. Within an hour the trailer was full of neatly sawn cylindrical birch trunk. No, but whatever killed him might still be around, lurking in the undergrowth, creeping up on you Damn it, he's dead, he can't hurt you now. He wished again that he'd brought the shotgun. If only Jackie had been there awaiting him. 'A thief,' Sylvia's tone was low and frightened. Those magpies were still telling the crow all about it, how they had feasted from first light to dusk, and then the foxes had come and taken over rats, too.
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