Bats Out Of Hell

The incoming fresh air seemed to attract the bats. Whereas their disturbed radars had previously forced them to fly aimlessly, panic-stricken, now they scented freedom. In a matter of seconds they had gone, speeding across the Chase like jet-propelled butterflies, lost to the view of the two people who stared after them through the shattered window of the laboratory.

'Well, they're gone,' Brian Newman slipped an arm around Susan, and this time she made no attempt to squirm from his grasp. 'I'm sorry,' she said weakly. 'It wasn't your fault. I shouldn't have hit you.' 'What are we going to do now?'

Newman looked around the lab, noting the slivers of broken glass on the floor, the smashed cages, mice and guinea-pigs scuttling fearfully to and fro.

'Well, I guess we'll have to tell Haynes the whole truth now,' he said, 'and we can only pray that the virus died in those victims, and that the bats which escaped are neither infected nor carriers. Otherwise . . . ' He shook his head slowly, and his expression was grave. If the virus had been carried from the Biological Research Centre, then the possible consequences did not bear thinking about. Voices in the corridor outside interrupted them. Someone was banging on the door.

'What's happening in there? Are you all right, New-man?' It was Haynes's voice.

Brian Newman strode to the door and unlocked it. Haynes, Professor Rickers—a tall, balding man with rimless spectacles—and the night-porter, who had been just on the point of going off duty, crowded into the small laboratory.

'What the hell,' Haynes's face took on a deep flush as he surveyed the wreckage,

'There's been an accident,' Newman said. 'I slipped and overturned the table.'

'You'd better get these rodents caught quickly,' Haynes snapped, noting two or three white mice ru

Professor Newman closed the door and leaned up against it, looking at the others. 'I think we've got a lot of talking to do,' he said softly.

'Talking?' Haynes glanced at him with a puzzled expression on his face.

'I think Johnson was just going off duty,' Newman nodded to the porter. 'We don't need to delay him.'

Johnson grunted, and Newman opened the door to let him out. He could not take any risk of wild stories finding their way into civvy street.

'Now,' Haynes adjusted his spectacles and glared at the bacteriologist, 'perhaps you'd tell me just what the hell is going on.'

In a few words Newman explained about the mutated virus and the fact that about a dozen bats, possibly carrying the disease, were loose upon Ca

'Impossible,' Rickers snapped.

'I wish it was impossible,' Newman retorted. 'But the first thing we've got to do is to carry out tests on the dead bats and try to determine the extent of this virus.'

'Well, let's get cracking,1 Haynes glanced at Rickers, 'I suggest that Professor Rickers carries out the post-mortems here and now.'

'Fair enough,' Newman replied, 'but I suggest we all wear rubber gloves and protective clothing. From what I've seen these last few days we're dealing with a virulent disease which could be capable of striking us all down.'

Somewhat reluctantly Professor Rickers do

For the next hour the three of them watched Rickers working painstakingly, dissecting bat after bat, examining entrails with the aid of a microscope, making notes on a scrap of paper, scraping furry remains into a plastic bag, and then starting on another tiny corpse. They could not see his expression behind the mask, and not once did he indicate his findings.

Finally, with every bat dissected and the remnants enclosed in the waste bag, Rickers removed his mask and gloves and turned to the others. His expression alighted briefly on Newman, disbelief and mockery in his eyes.

'These bats died of a brain disease,' Rickers said. 'Meningitis, which is what they were injected with anyway, so that's hardly surprising. The virus is dead, so we can hardly be expected to pronounce a mutation. To ascertain that we should have to examine a living creature, but as they have all apparently escaped there is no opportunity to do that. Doubtless they will die from meningitis in the wild, their bodies will never be found, and that will be that. I would doubt very much whether mankind or even wildlife is at risk.'

Haynes was gloatingly triumphant as he turned to Newman. 'You are making mountains out of molehills, Professor Newman,' he said, drawing himself up to his full height. 'And it would seem that a whole week of work has been needlessly wasted.'

'I tell you, the disease is deadly!' Newman spoke hotly.

'I suggest you compile your negative report,' Haynes turned to the door, ignoring his protest. 'Let me have it by tomorrow, please.'

Two minutes later only Susan and Brian Newman remained in the laboratory.

'And that's that.' Newman sighed, 'Officially, anyway.'

'What are we going to do?'

'We can't do anything except wait. Whatever happens now will happen in the outside world, instead of in the laboratory where we stood a chance of controlling it.' His hand found hers and squeezed it lightly. 'By the way, I'm sorry about last night.'

'So am I. What are you going to do, though? I mean, about that girl?'

'I dropped her off home, and as far as I'm concerned that's that'

'So we're back to square one. Just you and me.'

'Perhaps we can manage to make a go of it this time.' he said, avoiding her gaze.

'Maybe.' She picked up a broom and began sweeping up broken glass. 'Like everything else, we'll just have to await developments.'

Chapter Three

The Wooden Stables, as the sprawling, untidy outbuildings were known, had fallen gradually into a state of disrepair since the war. Once they had been the property of the Marquis of Anglesey, and thoroughbred stock had been stabled there. Then, with the breaking up of the estate, which had once stretched from Ca

Walter Williams cursed to himself as he swung the old Austin pick-up truck off the Ca

Dusk was gathering, and the shadows from the conifer wood on his left prompted him to switch on his headlights. The twin beams lit up the dereliction ahead of him, a vista of crumbling brickwork and rotting timbers, with gaping holes in the slate roof of the nearest building. Something large ambled out of the shadows and trotted towards him as he brought the vehicle to a halt.

'Hello Pe

The mare nuzzled him as he let the tail-board down.

There's a good girl,' he coaxed, fondling her. 'But where's Stango?'