Bats Out of Hell Read Online Free PDF Page B

sure."
    Walter Williams glared at his wife, opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again, and nodded. "All right," he muttered. Anything for peace and quiet. It would only take a quarter of an hour, and he offered up a silent prayer as he took his place at the table that Penny and Stango had come to their senses and gone back into the stable. He didn't fancy trying to round them up in the darkness. The memory of the bats returned to him, and he shivered involuntarily. Harmless, but horrible.
    The horses were not in sight when Walter Williams drove back up the rutted track which led to the Wooden Stables and sat with the engine running, his headlights piercing the darkness and illuminating a section of the field and the buildings.
    "Where are they?" Anxiously, Shirley was peering through the windscreen.
    "Probably in the stable." Walter told her. He did not relish going inside the buildings again. Perhaps if he could satisfy his daughter that they were not out in the field then she would be agreeable to going back home again. But in his heart he knew that he would not escape so lightly.
    "They could be anywhere," Shirley said, opening the passenger door. "Maybe round the back of the stable. Let's go and see. We'd better check the stable first."
    "All right," Walter sighed, groped for his flashlight in the glove-box, before he remembered that it was broken. "The flashlight is smashed."
    "Leave the headlights on, then. They'll help."
    Walter was decidedly uneasy as he led the way towards the half-ruined buildings, the piercing beams of light from the vehicle behind them illuminating the dereliction and creating eerie shadows. Bats at dusk were bad enough, but in the pitch blackness of night they filled him with dread. He'd never thought much about them before. Horrible little things. Usually they fled at the approach of man, but this lot had appeared to attack him. That one had really dashed itself against him viciously.
    He halted in the entrance to the stable, listening. Not a sound came from within, no movement or horses, munching of hay.
    "Penny . . . Stango." Shirley's call echoed inside the building. There was no answering whinny, no welcoming stirring. Just silence.
    "We'd better check the field at the back." Shirley's voice was tinged with anxiety.
    "We don't have a flashlight."
    "We won't need one. If they're there we'll be able to spot them."
    "Let's try whistling them first."
    They pursed their lips, emitting a series of high-pitched, unmusical whistles. Walter's mouth was dry. It wasn't easy. After a time they paused to listen.
    "I can hear something," Shirley spoke in a low tone, unsure but optimistic.
    Walter heard it, too. It definitely was not any sound made by the horses, though. It was more like the wind soughing through the trees, a gentle breeze at first, increasing to gale force. Then realization dawned on him.
    "Come on," he hissed. "Back to the truck. It's those . . ."
    A stinging blow caught him on the forehead. His daughter was screaming hysterically, flailing her arms.
    "Dad . . . Dad, there's something caught in my hair!"
    Bats were jinking, swerving, frying all around them. Something was caught up in Shirley's long fair hair, a small furry creature that flapped its wings frantically. She was beating at it, trying unsuccessfully to knock it off.
    "Stand still!" Walter spoke sharply, clutching her to him and grabbing the fluttering bat. The very feel of its silky fur was repulsive to him, and every instinct yelled at him to snatch his hand away.
    Its claws were entwined in the girl's hair and he could not dislodge it. There was only one alternative. He closed his fingers over it, felt the pulsing body in his palm, and then squeezed. He turned away to vomit, hoping Shirley would not notice. The creature had pulped in his fingers, squelching out a sticky warmth. He wiped his hand on his trousers, heaved again, and then spoke with a determined effort at calmness.
    "It's all right, love. It's