The Death of Grass (Jerry eBooks) by John Christopher

Author:John Christopher [Christopher, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jerry eBooks
Published: 2016-03-12T05:00:00+00:00

John said: The important thing is to get away from here. After that we can decide the best plan to follow. As far as our things are concerned, I suggest we take three small cases for the present. Rucksacks would have been better, but we haven’t got them. I shouldn’t bother with blankets. Fortunately, it’s summer. If it’s chilly, we shall have to huddle together for warmth.’

‘I shall take my blanket roll,’ Pirrie said.

‘I don’t advise it,’ John told him.

Pirrie smiled, but made no reply.

The Masham men, having removed their booty, had faded back into the shadows that lined the road, and were watching them with impassive disinterest. The children, sleepy-eyed and unsteady, watched also as their elders sorted out what they needed from what had been left. John realized that he no longer counted Mary as one of the children; she was helping Ann.

They got away at last. Looking back, John saw that the Masham men were pulling the abandoned cars round to reinforce the barrier they had already set up. He wondered what would happen when the cars really began to pile up there—probably they would shove them into the river.

They toiled up rising ground, until they could look down, from a bare field, on the starlit roofs of the town lying between them and the moors. The night was very quiet. ‘We’ll rest here for a while,’ John said. ‘We can consider our plans.’

Pirrie dropped the blanket roll; he had been carrying it, at first awkwardly under his arm and then more sensibly balanced on his shoulder.

‘In that case, I can get rid of these blankets,’ he said.

Roger said: ‘I wondered how long it would be before you realized you were carrying dead weight.’

Pirrie was busy undoing the string that tied the roll; it was arranged in a series of complicated knots. He said:

‘Those people down there . . . excellent surface efficiency, but I suspect the minor details are going to trip them up. I rather think the man who went through my car wasn’t even carrying a knife. If he was, then his negligence is quite inexcusable.’

Roger asked curiously: ‘What have you got in there?’

Pirrie looked up. In the dim starlight, he appeared to be blinking. ‘When I was considerably younger,’ he said, ‘I used to travel in the Middle East—Trans-Jordan, Iraq, Saudi Arabia. I was looking for minerals—without much success, I must add. I learned the trick there of hiding a rifle in a blanket roll. The Arabs stole everything, but they preferred rifles.’

Pirrie completed his unravelling. From the middle of the blankets, he drew out his sporting rifle; the telescopic sight was still attached.

Roger laughed, loudly and suddenly. ‘Well, I’m damned! Things don’t look quite so bad after all. Good old Pirrie.’

Pirrie lifted out a small box in addition. ‘Only a couple of dozen rounds, unfortunately,’ he said, ‘but it’s better than nothing.’

‘I should say it is,’ said Roger. ‘If we can’t find a farmhouse with a car and petrol, we don’t deserve to get away with it.

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