Bats Out of Hell Read Online Free PDF Page A

did in hot weather when the flies were troublesome. He pawed the ground and snorted.
    "What the devil's up with you?" Walter walked steadily towards the horse, hand outstretched. Stango backed away, and in the darkness Walter Williams saw the whiteness of his rolling eyes. The stallion snorted and, breaking into a canter, galloped away to the other end of the field.
    "Bloody vandals been up 'ere again," Walter muttered. "Throwin' stones at 'im, I suppose. No wonder the bugger's upset. Better 'ave a look an' see if 'e's 'urt."
    But Stango had no intention of letting Walter Williams approach him. Ten minutes later a breathless and angry Walter was shaking his fist at the silhouette of the horse which stood on the opposite side of the small field.
    "All right, bloody well stay there if that's how you feel, damn you!" he snarled, and returned to his task of unloading the bales of hay from the pick-up.
    "C'mon, old girl," he called to the watching Penny as he struggled to the nearest building carrying a bale. "Some nice fresh hay 'ere. Come and get it."
    But Penny would come no further than five yards from the doorway.
    "So you're bein' bloody stupid, too, are you?" Walter was fast losing patience. With a final curse he threw the bale into the stable. It thudded onto the stone floor, rolled over, and then, as it came to rest, he heard a movement in the rafters.
    He stood still, listening. The noise came again. A soft rustling sound like moths beating against a lampshade.
    Sparrows roosting in the rafters, he told himself, but knew that it was not so. The movements were too light. He experienced a prickly sensation up and down his spine. There was definitely something up there in the roof.
    He turned and headed back to the truck. Three more bales of hay had to be carried up here. He paused, opened the driver's door and groped in the untidy glove-compartment until he located the cylindrical metal shape of the flashlight which he kept there. He flicked the beam on. It was bright with the power of a new battery. He would soon find out what it was up in the rafters that was disturbing the horses.
    As he turned back he noticed that Penny had deserted him. Dusk was turning to deep darkness, but he could just make out the shapes of the two horses by the fence on the far side of the field. They were definitely restless.
    He could hear the rustling noise again even before he entered the old building. It wasn't exactly louder, but it was more pronounced, as though whatever had been responsible for that initially had been joined by others.
    "Let's 'ave a look at yer, then." His hand trembled as he directed the beam upwards. There was a sudden rush of air, and Walter recoiled. The light from his flashlight picked out dozens of pairs of tiny wings, jinking, swerving, and the air was suddenly filled with shrill squeaks.
    Something struck him in the face. The force of the impact was no greater than a well-aimed table-tennis ball, but he recoiled in alarm.
    " Bats! " he grunted in revulsion.
    Another hit him on the hand, and he dropped the flashlight.
    "Ugh!"
    He groped on the ground and located the fallen flashlight. He tried the switch, but nothing happened. A brief examination revealed that the glass was broken. Possibly the bulb was damaged.
    Walter Williams cowered in the darkness for a few seconds, and then straightened up with a hollow laugh.
    "Bleedin' flyin' mice," he grunted. " 'Armless but 'orrible. Well, they've all gone so p'raps the 'orses'll come back now." He gave a whistle, and heard Penny and Stango moving in the darkness, but they did not come near him.
    "Please yer bleedin' selves then," he muttered, and began fetching the remaining bales of hay from the pick-up. He did not enter the stable. Instead he flung each bale in through the doorway, and within a few minutes he was reversing his vehicle back down the muddy, rutted track.
    It took him less than five minutes to drive back to his small house on the outskirts of Chase