London Wild by Vincent Shearman

Author:Vincent Shearman [Shearman, Vincent]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2012-10-29T00:00:00+00:00

21

And February Makes Five

February hadn’t had a lot of success in trying to sleep. For a start the couch was wet where Kitty had been sitting on it after having been out in the pouring rain. Also her own clothing had gotten wet where her coat hadn’t been able to protect her fully. But there was a lot more to it than that. Today her brother was going to go up against Slim Dorris, the Great Cat Killer, and there could only really be one possible result from that sort of matching. Then there was the house itself. It stank of herd. She would like to trust them and knew that Kitty trusted them fully, but they were still herd, and she had trouble with the concept of closing her eyes when they were so close. She wouldn’t want to admit it, but she was scared.

She had turned the newspaper back on at around four that morning and had kept the sound down to the barest minimum at which she could still hear it. Actually, the volume was so low that at first she couldn’t hear much herself. But she knew that given a few minutes her ears would adjust, especially as there were no other sounds in the house and only the gentle patter of easing rain outside.

She lay back down on the couch, watching the scene at the green. It was still dark there, and not a lot seemed to be happening. The civilian line seemed to be the only real activity that the broadcasters were interested in. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of an artificial light coming out from either the refreshment tents or from one of the tanks that were already there waiting. But the camera didn’t dwell on either, and even the reporter whose job it was to keep the subscriber interested sounded bored or tired or both. Slowly his voice became hypnotic to February as she lay there. She found it hard to keep her eyes open, and as soon as she closed them, she was asleep.

Actually, she didn’t remember closing her eyes. She didn’t remember any of her dreams, nor indeed did she have any recollection at all of having fallen asleep. Yet somehow the clock had moved to six fifteen.

She raised her head to look more closely at the newspaper. It was very blurred after so little sleep, but slowly it came into focus. The convoy hadn’t left yet. It was supposed to have left the starting point at six, and it was still there. She decided that that was good. It would give her people a little more time to prepare for them. She laid her head back on the cushion and listened as best she could to the almost silent voice.

‘Yes, as remarkable as it might seem, someone has taken a shot at Slim. Soldiers are already searching the outlying buildings for the sniper’s nest, but many here must be wondering…’

February closed her eyes, thinking about it. A sniper had taken a shot at Slim Dorris and she had missed it.

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