ib.thewaspfactory-第8章
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nned。 The rest went off quickly； the puff of smoke from the charge around the mouth of each bomb bursting out of the fuming earth just before the main charge went off。 Scattering earth was blasted out into the Rabbit Grounds； and the thudding noises rolled through the air。 I smiled at that。 There was very little noise really。 You wouldn't have been able to hear a thing back at the house。 Almost all the energy from the bombs had gone into blowing the earth out and the air in the burrows back。
The first dazed rabbits came out； two of them bleeding at the nose； looking otherwise unharmed but staggering； almost falling。 I squeezed the plastic bottle and sent a jet of petrol out of it； over the wick of the lighter； held a few centimetres out from the nozzle by an aluminium tent…peg。 The petrol burst into flame as it flew over the wick in the tiny steel cup； roared through the air and fell brightly on and around the two rabbits。 They took flame and blazed； running and stumbling and falling。 I looked round for more as the first two flamed near the centre of the Grounds； finally collapsing into the grass； stiff…limbed but twitching； crackling to the breeze。 A tiny lick of flame flickered round the mouth of the 'thrower； I blew it out。 Another； smaller rabbit appeared。 I caught it with the jet of flame and it zipped off out of range； heading for the water by the side of the hill the savage buck had attacked me on。 I dug into the War Bag； drew out the air…pistol； cocked it and fired in one movement。 The shot missed and the rabbit trailed a thread of smoke round the hill。
I got another three rabbits with the 'thrower before I packed it in。 The last thing I did was to fire the blazing stream of petrol at the buck still sitting stuffed and dead and oozing blood in the forefront of the Grounds。 The fire dropped all round it so that it disappeared in the rolling orange and curling black。 In a few seconds the fuse caught； and after about ten seconds the mass of flame blew up and out； throwing something black and smoking twenty metres or more into the late…afternoon air and scattering pieces all over the Grounds。 The explosion； much bigger than the ones in the holes； and with almost nothing to muffle it； cracked across the dunes like a whip； setting my ears ringing and making even me jump a bit。
Whatever was left of the buck landed way behind me。 I followed the smell of burning to where it lay。 It was mostly the head； and a grubby stub of spine and ribs； and about half the skin。 I gritted my teeth and picked the warm remnant up； took it back to the Grounds and flung it into them from the top of the bank。
I stood in the slanting sunlight； warm and yellow around me； the stench of burning flesh and grass on the wind； the smoke rising into the air from burrows and cadavers； grey and black； the sweet smell of leaking unburned petrol ing from the Flame…thrower where I'd left it； and I breathed deeply。
With the last of the petrol I covered the body of the catapult and the used…up bottle of the 'thrower where they lay on the sand and set fire to them。 I sat cross…legged just by the blaze； staring into it from up…wind until it was out and only the metal of the Black Destroyer remained； then I took the sooty skeleton and buried it where it had been ruined； at the bottom of the hill。 It would have a name now： Black Destroyer Hill。
The fire was out everywhere； the grass too young and moist to catch。 Not that I'd have cared if it had gone up。 I considered setting the whin bushes alight； but the flowers always looked cheerful when they came out； and the bushes smelled better fresh than burned； so I didn't。 I decided I'd caused enough mayhem for one day。 The catapult was avenged； the buck…or what it meant； its spirit maybe…soiled and degraded； taught a hard lesson； and I felt good。 If the rifle was all right and hadn't got sand inside the sights or anywhere else awkward to clean； it would almost have been worth it。 The Defence budget would stand buying another catapult tomorrow； my crossbow would just have to wait another week or so。
With that lovely sated feeling inside me； I packed the War Bag and went wearily home； thinking what had happened over in my mind； trying to figure out the whys and wherefores； see what lessons were to be learned； what signs to be read in it all。
On the way I passed the rabbit I thought had escaped； lying just before the sparkling clean water of the stream； blackened and contorted； locked into a weird； twisted crouch； its dead dry eyes staring up at me as I passed by； accusatory。
I kicked it into the water。
My other dead uncle was called Harmsworth Stove； a half…uncle from Eric's mother's side of the family。 He was a businessman in Belfast； and he and his wife looked after Eric for nearly five years； when my brother was a toddler。 Harmsworth mitted suicide； eventually； with an electric power…drill and a quarter…inch bit。 He inserted it through the side of his skull and； finding that he was still alive though in some pain； drove to a nearby hospital； where he later died。 Actually； I might just have had a little to do with his death； as it occurred less than a year after the Stoves lost their only child； Esmerelda。 Unknown to them…and to everybody else； for that matter…she was one of my victims。
I lay in bed that night； waiting for my father to return； and for the phone to ring； while I thought about what had happened。
Maybe the big buck was a rabbit from outside the Grounds； some wild beast e into the warren from beyond； to terrorise the locals and make itself boss； only to die in an encounter with a superior being it could have no real prehension of。
Whatever； it was a Sign。 I was sure of that。 The whole fraught episode must signify something。 My automatic response might just have had something to do with the fire that the Factory had predicted； but deep inside I knew that that wasn't all there was to it； and that there was more to e。 The sign was in the whole thing； not just the unexpected ferocity of the buck I'd killed； but also in my furious； almost unthinking response and the fate of the innocent rabbits who took the brunt of my wrath。
It also meant something looking back as well as forward。 The first time I murdered it was because of rabbits meeting a fiery death； and meeting that fiery death from the nozzle of a Flame…thrower virtually identical to the one I had used to exact my revenge on the warren。 It was all too much； all too close and perfect。 Events were shaping up faster and worse than I could have expected。 I was in danger of losing control of the situation。 The Rabbit Grounds…that supposed happy hunting…ground…had shown it could happen。
From the smaller to the greater； the patterns always hold true； and the Factory has taught me to watch out for them and respect them。
That was the first time I killed； because of what my cousin Blyth Cauldhame had done to our rabbits； Eric's and mine。 It was Eric who first invented the Flame…thrower； and it was lying in what was then the bicycle…shed （now my shed） when our cousin； who had e to spend the weekend with us along with his parents； decided it would be fun to ride Eric's bike into the soft mud at the south end of the island。 This he duly did while Eric and I were out flying kites。 Then he came back and filled the Flame…thrower with petrol。 He sat in the back garden with it； obscured from the windows of the lounge （where his parents and our father sat） by the washing blowing in the breeze； he lit the 'thrower and sprayed our two hutches with flame； incinerating all our beauties。
Eric in particular was very upset。 He cried like a girl。 I wanted to kill Blyth there and then； the hiding he got from his father； my dad's brother James； was not enough as far as I was concerned； not for what he'd done to Eric； my brother。 Eric was inconsolable； desperate with grief because he had made the thing Blyth had used to destroy our beloved pets。 He always was a bit sentimental； always the sensitive one； the bright one； until his nasty experience everybody was sure he would go far。 Anyway； that was the start of t
