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He negotiated the leaning broken gate； snapped another rotten strut with a loud crack。 If those snakes are around they will have heard that for sure。 But they surely aren't because they would have been found by now if they were。 That was the best piece of logic he had e up with all night and it made him feel an awful lot easier in his disturbed mind。
Through this wilderness that used to be a cemetery； out into the sandpit and back along the road to the station； sorry； operational HQ。 I went out on my own and looked； sir； but I'm certain the snakes aren't in Stainforth。 They've moved on unseen and we'll just have to wait until they turn up somewhere。 And somebody else gets killed。
It was not easy walking in there； the trampled…down grass and weeds screening large stones that you only found when you either stubbed your toe against them or trod on them and wrenched your ankle。 A hidden indentation in the ground threw PC Aylott headlong。 He cursed； picked himself up； had to retrieve his torch which had rolled away。 Now this is bloody stupid； you're not proving anything either to yourself or to anybody else。 You're pandering to guilt； trying to convince yourself that you're not the bloody coward you thought you were。 And all the time you're shit…scared。
The sandpit could not be far now； the hedges were beginning to angle towards the apex of the graveyard triangle and where they met there would be a broken…down stile and a slope beyond which he would have to negotiate very carefully。 Then it was but a hundred yards or so back to the road。 And safety。
His foot rested on something flat and smooth beneath the grass； one of those old tombstones lying horizontally； no doubt。 He rested his full weight on it and felt it tilt like a paving slab that had been placed on uneven ground。 Well； it was hardly likely to have been laid with a spirit…level； was it？ It 。。 。
Ken Aylott's brain could not cope with what happened next。 A feeling like vertigo； a loss of balance and coordination； a sensation akin to stepping on to a hinged trapdoor； aware of it tilting downwards beneath his feet。 His logic screamed at him to jump sideways before it was too late but his body refused to heed the warning。
Falling。 A rush of stale cold air came up out of the ground to meet him； and he gave a strangled cry of terror； clinging on to his torch。 Instinctively he hunched his body； anticipated the bone…jarring fall； a kaleidoscope of terrors jamming his crazed mind； a childhood fear of the dark was instantly released from that corner of his brain where it had slumbered for three decades； had him screaming in infantile terror。
A cloying stench filled his nostrils； the putrid suffocating smell of an airless place。 And then came impact and pain； the agony of breaking bones； gasping for air that was putrid； lying in a crumpled heap on sharp stones and doubting whether he would ever be able to move again。 Crying； gasping with sheer terror because he could not manage a second scream。
He lay there； his body crunched up into a tight ball； racked with pain。 Subconsciously he knew what had happened； an old crypt； the kind that were popular in the last century when entire families were interred in the same grave…a broken or loose stone that had acted as a trapdoor to catapult him down into its depths。 Oh； merciful God； this was a place of the dead； hideous skeletal remains 。 。 。
Somehow he was still clutching his torch but he did not want to look； it was still on； miraculously； but he closed his eyes in case he saw。 He tasted blood； not a lot so perhaps he had just bitten his lip or tongue in the fall。 But his leg was broken for sure； possibly both of them because he could not move them。 He gasped for breath and it hurt like hell。 Broken ribs； if he tried to get up he might puncture a lung。
I've got to get out of here！ A haze of pain； a red curtain before his eyes。 I mustn't faint； if I pass out I could lie here until I die。 Somebody will surely e looking for me when the day shift takes over。 But they won't know where to look； will they？
He tried to move his head； attempted to look upwards； desperately searching for a glimpse of those glittering stars； or that sliver of moon； anything that meant that there was open sky up above。 Please 。。 。just one star。 。。 but there were only streaks of shimmering red to be seen in the total blackness where there should have been an open square directly above。
You mustn't panic。 Rest a bit； try to think。 He felt at his legs； bare bleeding skin where his trousers had been ripped and torn asunder。 There's broken bones definitely。 Oh God！
Suddenly he got an awful feeling that he was not alone； beginning with a prickling of the hairs on the back of his neck。 Don't be bloody stupid； if there's anybody else in here they've been dead a very long time。 A heap of old bones but they can't move or hurt you。
Something definitely moved； dislodged a trickle of small stones close by。 He jumped； wanted to shine his torch in the direction of the noise but he did not dare。 If there's anything there then I don't want to see it。 Rats； that's what it is； rodents are bound to use these old crypts。 Repulsive but not dangerous。
His arms seemed to be virtually unscathed。 Perhaps if he could secure a grip on something then he could pull himself up； reach the slab above； open it enough to give him air； a gap through which his shouts for help might be heard。
New hope； desperation breeding determination； groping behind him； feeling with Ms fingers。 And that was when he touched something； it should have been cold rough stone； hard and inanimate。 Instead it was rough and soft 。 。 。 breathing and moving；'
He snatched his hand away with an inarticulate cry； could not help himself from swinging his torch round； a dazzling white beam that reflected a pair of tiny glittering eyes； a long thick body that ended over in the shadows some yards away。 Eyes watching him from every corner； pinpoints of unwavering evil。
Ken Aylott's reason almost snapped； hovered precariously on the brink between sanity and madness。 You've found 'em； copper； the snakes everybody's been searching for； holed up in a derelict crypt in a disused churchyard。
No； they weren't real； they were a fevered nightmare brought on by the pain from his injuries。 If he closed his eyes； and then opened them a few seconds later； they would be gone； evaporated。 If there's anything there it's only rats and I've got snakes on the brain。 They bloody well aren't snakes！
He sensed them moving； heard their bodies dragging across the uneven floor； slithering towards him。 No； they don't exist； They don't 。 。 。
Sudden agony in his leg； his whole body jerking up； pain that in no way could have e from his fall； like a heated bradawl had been bored into his flesh； gouged a burning hole right down to the bone。
The policeman managed one long shriek of pain and terror； almost succeeded in standing on his fractured limbs； then fell backwards。 The torch bounced from his hold； rolled； and shone its light back on the awful scene； cruelly showed Ken Aylott everything he did not want to see。 A 3…D horror show in which he was the principal actor。
They were everywhere； long ones； fat ones； thin ones； dazzling deadly colours shimmering in the harsh artificial light； sliding up to the convulsing human body； striking at the exposed white flesh。 Fangs that dug deep and tore mercilessly； drew blood and hungered for more。 Darted； flicked； speared him with their poison。
Ken Aylott watched his own flesh swell； bloated veins pulsing with deadly venom； reddening； purpling。 The snakes slid over him； obscene attacks； savouring this victim that had dropped obligingly into their lair。 He felt their coldness； gave up any thoughts of escape。 How long did it take a man to die from a snakebite？ It depended upon which species bit you。 He didn't have a chance； just wanted the end to be quick。
I found 'em； sir； when everybody else failed。 Didn't I？ And I won't get promotion； not even a posthumous award。 They'll always remember me as the copper who fucked up the Raglan case。
The snakes were backing off him； a sudden withdrawal that puzzled the dying policeman even in his pain…crazed state。 The bastards wanted to gloat； to watch him die； listen to his pleadings。 They'll get you； make no mistake about that。 You've fooled us all for the moment but they'll find you； they'll e with guns and blast hell out of you。
He could barely breathe now； as if his lungs had given out； collapsed； his eyes were swelling； restricting his vision。 But he saw enough； enough to topple him down into that abyss of madness； even had him trying to laugh。
He had wondered where the big fucker had got to； the twenty…foot python that should have found it impossible to hide out in any tract of English countryside。 Well； it was here now； must have been gorged and sleeping off some feast in the shadows； had missed out on the action。 Now it was here； which was why all the others were keeping their dista