Herbert, James - '48 by Herbert James

Author:Herbert, James [Herbert, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Thrillers, London (England), Fiction - Horror, English Horror Fiction, Technological, Espionage, Horror, Biological Warfare, Plague, Viruses, Horror Tales, World War; 1939-1945 - Biological warfare - Fiction, Plague - Fiction, Horror - General, Military, History, Imaginary Histories, Alternative Histories (Fiction), World War II, London (England) - Fiction, World War; 1939-1945, Americans
ISBN: 9780061052934
Google: RGJ_jcfg-koC
Amazon: B001TB0RAW
Publisher: HarperPrism
Published: 1996-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

That's what he tried to say, but it didn't come out quite that well. I couldn't have cared less anyway - I was ready to blow his brains out.

'Hoke!'

Female's voice, but I wasn't taking enough notice to decide whose. It was time to settle the score with the German and I was just mad enough to do it right then and there. Blood oozing from my cut hand made the gun's grip slippery, but still I pressed it into the flesh of his neck. A scream then and I glanced round to see Muriel standing in the doorway. It was Cissie who attacked me though.

Her knee connected with the side of my head, knocking me aside. Then her fingers tangled themselves in my hair and she pulled me backwards, so that I sprawled onto my back. She followed through by kneeling on my chest and grabbing at my gun hand, while Cagney leapt around us, yapping and too excited to figure out which one of us to attack. With a quick swipe of my other hand, I knocked Cissie away and raised my shoulders off the carpeted floor, the Colt finding its target once more.

'Don't shoot him!'

Now it was Muriel who was getting in the way. She pos-itioned herself between me and the stunned German and screamed down at me.

'Stop it, stop it now! We can't go on killing one another, don't you understand?'

To complete the picture, Albert Potter came lumbering along the corridor from his suite. For some reason he still had the warning rattle he'd used last night in his hand and for one bad moment I thought he was gonna blast our ears with it again. Instead he shouted: ' What the bleedin 'ell's goin on? Can't a fellah get a decent kip around 'ere?' Mercifully, he tucked the rattle back into one of the large pockets in his overalls.

Cissie, a leg still across my chest, finally got both hands around my wrist and pulled the gun away from its mark.

'Please, Hoke, give it up,' she pleaded and there was a sob at the end of her words.

I glanced at her, saw the tears beginning to roll, and I guess it was that that took the wind out of me. I was still full of rage, but some of its energy had left me. I let my head slump back onto the carpet, and as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, I relaxed my grip on the gun, let my arm go limp. Still Cissie clung to my wrist, not trusting me.

'Okay. I'm done,' I assured her. 'Just get him outta my sight for a while.' They knew I meant Stern and not the dog who, now that the commotion was over, was trying to lick my face.

I heard someone helping the German to his feet, and then he was standing over me, looking down. There was no wari-ness in his eyes, no fear, only a simmering anger.

'You are a fool,' he hissed. 'There was no need for this.

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