The Fog - James Herbert [88]
‘Sorry, Eddie,’ the smaller of the two apologized with a smirk, ‘but my friend Bernard’ – he over-emphasized the ’ard’ – ‘always gets this way when it’s past his bedtime.’
‘It’s Corporal to you, Evans,’ said Wilcox, his dislike for the little Cockney and his Mancunian companion evident in his tone. The pair of them were a constant thorn in his flesh, always taking the piss, but never quite overstepping the mark so he could put them on a charge – or belt one of them. They didn’t even have to say anything, their stupid mocking faces were enough to make him feel a cunt.
They picked themselves up, brushing themselves down and groaning at imagined bruises.
‘What we coom down ’ere for anyway, Corp?’ asked Private Buswell, his droning accent a further irritant to Wilcox. ‘It’s only a bloomin’ railway track.’
‘Orders are that every square inch of ground is to be covered!’ the Corporal snapped, swinging his torch along the lines that were no longer silver but dull and rusty.
‘Anyway, it’s gone, innit?’ Evans stated disgustedly. ‘I mean, we been lookin’ for two bleedin’ days now!’
‘They think it’s gone. We’re lookin’ to make sure.’
‘Yeah, but that spray stuff cleared it, didn’t it?’ insisted Evans.
‘I told you, they think so.’
‘Well, they couldn’t ’ave just lost it, could they?’ drawled Buswell.
‘No, but it was funny ’ow it just vanished,’ said Wilcox. ‘I mean, they’d been sprayin’ it all day and the stuff was workin’, but all of a sudden, it wasn’t there anymore. The thing in the middle, I mean.’
‘Yeah, well, what is it then, this thing in the middle? It’s supposed to be a bug, innit?’ Evans asked, switching on his own torch, pointing it at the sky to see how far its beam travelled.
‘The disease, that’s what it is. They want to make sure that’s gone an’ all.’
‘Yeah, well I don’t fancy findin’ it.’
‘Don’t worry, we don’t have to go near it,’ Wilcox reassured him, then added disdainfully, ‘Anyway, you two bleeders are potty enough. It wouldn’t have any effect on you.’
‘Quite right, Corp,’ grinned Evans, ‘me and Bernard are right nutters, so I’d watch us close seeing as we’ve got bullets for our rifles.’
‘Yeah, Corp,’ said Buswell, his smiling expression turning into one of puzzlement, ‘why’ve we got ammunition?’
‘Just in case, Buswell, just in case we run into real lunatics.’
‘You don’t mean we’d ’ave to shoot them?’
‘If we found the glow and ran into any trouble that might prevent us reportin’ its location, then we’re to use our own discretion, of course.’
‘Ooh, makes me feel all cold,’ shivered Evans. ‘Come on, let’s ’ave a fag.’
‘Always the fuckin’ same, you two. It’s me who cops it if the Sarge finds us. He’s around ’ere somewhere,’ Wilcox moaned.
‘Nah, he’s a long way off. Let’s walk up a bit, find a nice secluded spot.’
Corporal Wilcox stepped into the centre of the lines and began to walk forward, playing his torch along the sleepers ahead of him. The other two fell in behind him, Evans whistling an off-key tune.
‘Ere! We not gonna’ get run down, are we?’ He broke off his whistling to ask the question.
‘Don’t be bloody daft. This is a disused track. You can see by the grass it hasn’t been used for years. And look at the rust on the lines.’
‘Just checkin’, Corp.’
Wilcox heard Buswell’s snigger from behind and snorted with weary annoyance. ‘Why the hell do I always get roped in with you two piss artists?’
They marched on to the accompaniment of Evans’s tuneless whistle, searching the steep embankment on either side with their torches.
‘How coom it glows then, this stuff?’ asked Buswell after a while.
‘Radiation, innit?’ Evans told him.
‘Who said it was radiation?’ Wilcox stopped and turned to look at him.
‘Stands to reason, dunnit?’ The amusement never left his eyes. ‘It glows, so they tell us. It eats away people’s brains. It’s driftin’ around the country at its leisure and they can’t stop it. All adds up.’
‘Yeah, well how would radiation come from the sea?’ asked the Corporal belligerently.
‘Oh gawd! You don’t believe that do you?’ said Evans, his turn to be disgusted. ‘They rely on pricks