Thursday, February 21, 2013

Dead Rite chapter 138.03


He was jarred from the pleasure of releasing his bladder by the clatter of camping pots and a shout of surprise from Peters. He tried to stop the flow and failed, merely achieving a reduced flow which splashed over his police-issue safety shoes. “Dammit.”

He was forced to immobility until the stream slowed of its own accord. It was a produce of his age, he thought, that muscles got flabby and loose. He used to be able to start and stop his flow whenever he liked. When had he got old? He called out while he waited. “Sergeant? What's the matter?”

“Er... Nothing sir. I heard a noise.”

“In a woodland clearing? What sort of noise?”

“An underground sort of noise, sir.”

“What sort of... Hang on.” He shook the last few drops from his penis and tucked it away, zipping up his fly as he returned to his sergeant. “What sort of noise? An animal? An earthquake? What?”

“A sort of banging and crashing, sir.” Peters pointed to the Carn. “It came from in there.”

“I thought there was noting down there?”

“There wasn't.” Peters swallowed. “Nothing alive, anyway.

“Nothing alive?” He stepped cautiously to the mouth of the Carn and cocked his head. “I presume by that remark you're inferring that the few animal bones left down there have come to life? Or perhaps we overlooked a few of out cryogenic zombies?” He stopped talking to listen. “Well I can't hear anything.”

“Nor can I, now.” Peters approached just in time to hear a loud crash from below. Dust billowed from the entrance. He took several rapid paces backwards and upset the camping gas stove and the kettle, forcing his to retrieve both before the stove set fire to the surrounding grass. “There! Now do you believe me?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

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