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Jackie looked up into the face of her lover； recognised his sheer strength and power and her flesh goosepimpled with pride。
'Jac；' she tapped her breasts and smiled。
His eyes appeared to glaze over for a second； a moment of half…hesitation as though he was trying to remember something but his brain withheld it； a flicker that might just have been fear and then it was gone。
'Kuz。' His reply was forced as though his vocal chords were unused to speech。
There was no more to be said。 Between the three of them they lifted her safely through the broken window； climbed after her with more caution than they had shown on entering。 Glass was not strong but it was capable of cutting。 And killing。 They had learned and they would not forget。
Shapes emerged from the wilderness that had once been a suburban garden but in the darkness it was difficult to distinguish between male and female。 A silent watching crowd which looked to the one called Kuz for leadership。 Where he went； they would follow unquestioningly。
With Jackie at his side he strode off in a southerly direction； striking across the fields； skirting those lines of amber lights； glancing fearfully at them and quickening his pace； obeying an instinctive calling to be away from this place which he did not understand。 Ahead lay the hills； a landscape unchanged and older than his own species。
The calling was very strong。
CHAPTER FOUR
IT NEEDED an awful lot of courage to step outside the cottage into a world you had once e to accept and now feared what you might find there。 Jon considered some type of protective clothing； there had been a play on TV some time ago about the survivors of a nuclear holocaust。 They had donned plastic coveralls to go outside； left them at the doorway when they returned。 Fine； but he didn't have any such garments； an oversight which had caught him out。 But this wasn't radioactive fall…out； it was micro…organisms of a decidedly nasty species。 His working overalls hung in the lobby； Jackie's alongside them。
'We'd better put these on；' he said； 'and leave 'em here when we e back。' 'If we get back！
Sylvia wrinkled her nose in disapproval； a mistress clad in the wife's apparel。 Humiliating。
'I'd 。 。 。 rather not；' she replied huskily。
'Look。' His tone was sharp。 'You either put them on or else you stay here and wait for me。 I ought not to be taking you along anyway。'
Reluctantly Sylvia Atkinson reached down the thin green plastic overalls。 There was a rip in the side； the rest plastered with dried mud like a suit of army camouflage clothing。
'They're too big；' she muttered sulkily。 'I can't wear these。'
'You'll have to；' he snapped。 'Roll the sleeves and legs up。 You're not going on a fashion parade； after all。'
Reluctantly； petulantly； she obeyed。 'Is that to your satisfaction； sir？'
'That's OK；' he nodded； glimpsed the twelve…bore propped in the corner； wondered if he should take it along。 No； it would not be necessary； you couldn't shoot micro…organisms。
He opened the door； went outside； sensed her following him but did not glance back。 Suddenly Sylvia was a nuisance； a liability。 Jackie would have co…operated； e up with some constructive ideas。 As it was； he was lumbered with a passenger； an additional responsibility。 Even being alone would have been preferable。 Or would it？ You wouldn't know about that until it happened； and by then it could be too late。
The yard with its row of outbuildings faced him。 The goat…house； its door open； the animals probably grazing the field at the rear。 The woodshed and implement shed； the hay barn。 To the right was the vegetable patch； the weeds which a week ago had been brown and going to seed； now ready for hoeing； sprouting fresh greenery； that storm the other night had been heavy； an array of puddles still on the rutted track。 Maybe an inch of rain。 The surrounding countryside had an artificial camouflaged look about it too。 Overhead the sky was gun blue； just an odd wisp or two of fluffy white cloud。 The long dry spell hadn't cracked； just a freak interlude。 Everywhere smelled fresh and if you had not known what had happened you would never have guessed。
'Where the devil are the hens？' Jon spoke aloud； a puzzled look on his face。 Usually the poultry spent most of their time scratching in the yard and trying to devise ways of getting through the chicken…netting into the garden。 But now there wasn't a single bird in sight。 It was strange。 Eerie。 He experienced a chill in his stomach； licked his lips nervously。 The hens were always around； now suddenly they were conspicuous by their absence。
He stepped forward； squelched in the mud。 He'd better check on the goats； he'd been worrying about them ever since he and Sylvia had been confined below ground。 The kids would be taking the milk so there was no worry about mastitis setting in； but he did not like leaving them untended。 They surely would not be far away。
He saw them； the three nannies with five kids along the hedgeside nibbling at hawthorn shoots； boughs devoid of bark where they had stripped them。 Relief because the animals were OK。
A horned head went up。 Rosie； the oldest goat； had seen him； the ridge of hairs along her back stiffened； the hackles rising。 A bleat； deep and nearly unrecognisable。 Two more white Saanen heads jerked round； eyes reflecting a fear of the unknown。 Kids leaped out of the undergrowth； skipped towards their mothers。 Suddenly danger threatened。
'Rosie；' Jon called。 'Rosie； it's only me。'
But Rosie did not recognise her master； that much was clear。 She backed away； turned； the other two following her； the youngsters staying close to their respective mothers。
Cloven hooves scampered； thudded on soft grass as the animals broke into a run heading diagonally across the small rough field away from the two humans。 Fleeing in fear。
'Well； damn me！' Jon Quinn cursed。 They've never done that before； ever。 Usually the moment they see me they e running； hoping it's milking time and they can get a bucket of concentrates。 It's as though they're 。 。 。 frightened of me； like they've never seen me in their lives before！'
'There's another one over there。' Sylvia pointed towards a spreading oak tree some fifty yards away。 Another goat stood beneath it where it had been taking advantage of the shade； a much bigger animal with long curved horns and a straggling beard； head erect； watching them； a rough coat； the hair straggling down almost to its forelocks。
That's Gilbert；' Jon breathed。 'At least； I think it is。 He looks kind of。。。 different。 His coat shouldn't be that long and his horns ought to be shorter too。 e to think of it； the nannies' coats looked much rougher than usual。'
'Well； he's ing this way；' Sylvia muttered。 'He certainly isn't afraid。'
Jon tensed； stepped back a pace。 Something about the male of the species alarmed him。 All billy goats had to be treated with a certain amount of respect； in much the same way that you never trusted a bull； no matter how docile it was reputed to be。 Usually Gilbert was content to browse the hedges and graze the grass； lived in an old rusted corrugated tin shelter down in the dingle； but now he was certainly interested in the two humans。 Deliberate steps； stopping； sizing them up。
Jon's pulses quickened。 Gilbert had certainly changed。 He looked bigger； too。 Gone was his usual stare of mild interest at humans infiltrating his domain。 His eyes slitted； thick neck thrust forward arrogantly。
'Move backwards；' Jon spoke softly out of the corner of his mouth； did not wish to alarm his panion unnecessarily。 'He might just be protecting his harem。 Sometimes billies are a bit temperamental。' Don't take your eyes off him。
Going backwards a step at a time； Jon mentally calculating the distance to the gate。 Ten yards at the most； no more。 Sylvia's hand clutched his arm and he could sense her fear。 For Christ's sake don't panic。 I can smell my own sweat； and so can Gilbert。 He knows I'm shit…scared。
The big goat advanced； tossed its head； its eyes never once leaving the two people who retreated before him； blazing sheer malevolence at them； an enemy trespassing in his domain； a threat to his supremacy； the male of the species seeking to prove his prowess in battle。
Jon anticipated the rush； saw those tremendous leg muscles tensing； a springboard to thrust the beast on its final rush。 He had lost count of the number of yards to safety but the time for calculations was over。 He wheeled； grabbed Sylvia in the same movement； half…leaped； half…ran。 The aluminium steel gate was open no more than two or three feet； Sylvia screamed and he knew just what he had to do。 Terror lent him strength； enough to hurl her forward； sent her sprawling in the thick mud on the other side； hearing a snort from the enraged goat who saw his intended prey suddenly escaping； a drumming of hooves as the death…charge began。
It was the mud which