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osepimpled and a shudder shook his body。 'I'll take 'em。 Just wish somebody had had the mon courtesy to tell me first what the load would be。 I thought it'd probably be monkeys。'
'They went Wednesday。'
Wilson turned away。 There was a cafeteria some fifty yards across the children's playground but he could tell from here that it was closed。 You sensed the desolation； the atmosphere of a place that had once been alive with animals and sightseers and was now suddenly dead。 A sadness that you couldn't escape even as an onlooker。
Some more men in overalls were struggling out of a narrow doorway with a cage that reminded Ken of a coffin。 It was bigger； in fact； the one side a hinged glass partition。 He didn't want to look； tried to turn his head away； but all the same he looked。
Jesus Christ！ There were no prizes for guessing that that was a python。 As thick as his own arm； with brown and green markings that would have camouflaged it almost anywhere； not moving。 Maybe it was dead。 No； that was too much to hope for。 Even coiled it filled the container and he found himself mentally calculating the constrictor's length； it had to be eighteen； twenty feet； possibly more。 Christ only knew what other horrors were down in that underground place waiting to be brought up and loaded into the van。 And they would be his travelling panions for the next five or six hours！ Do like the man said； forget about 'em； they're just a cargo； units in transit。 No； he couldn't shut them out of his mind； that was impossible。 Once he got out of here he would go like hell as soon as he hit the motorway； push the old wagon to its limit until he reached his destination。 e on； you buggers； get her loaded up and let's get the job done。
It was hotter today than it had been yesterday； more of a sultry heat with cloud formations building up in the western sky。 The driver had listened to the weather forecast on the way down…hot and dry being thundery towards mid…afternoon。
He tensed； thought he caught a far…off rumble of thunder。 It could have been an aircraft。 Thunderstorms always made him uneasy； had done so ever since childhood。 And those bleedin' snakes didn't help。 He shuddered again。
He glanced about him almost furtively。 He knew this area well； and that made him uneasy too。 Hold on； you're imagining things； that woman isn't likely to be wandering around a closed…down zoo。 Your chances of bumping into her are virtually nil and； anyway； she wouldn't recognise you with this moustache； certainly not in passing。 He shaded his eyes with a hand that was unsteady and squinted across to where the conurbation began； or ended； depending on how you looked at it。 Tall； unsightly blocks of council flats； there was a rumpus going on about whether they were safe or not。 He had read in the papers that they had put glass tell…tales in them to check whether the foundations were shifting or not。
She lived in one of those。 Ken Wilson used to go there； sometimes stopping overnight。 No。 117。 He experienced a twinge of guilt。 Maybe Veronica had forgotten all about him； certainly she hadn't made much effort to trace him and she wasn't likely to after all this time。 Stop worrying； she's OK； probably shacked up with another guy by now。 Nevertheless； Ken Wilson did not like it when his truck driving brought him this way。 There was always the awful chance that Fate might have destined him to meet up with Veronica Jones again。 And now that he was living with an eighteen…year…old check…out girl from Wiggins superstore the last thing he wanted was a thirty…five…year…old spectre ing out of the past。 Forget the woman and the snakes。
'Everything's loaded up； mate。'
Ken Wilson turned slowly； saw that the zoo workmen had even shut the back of the van up for him。 All you have to do is to drive it。
A clap of thunder had him starting visibly。
'Looks like we're goin' to get it this time； mate；'
'Yeah； looks like it。' Wilson walked towards the cab； opened the door； felt the heat e out at him like the forerunner of a fireball。 He winced； saw the clouds of flies buzzing on the windscreen。 This was what you got in flaming June； either pouring wet or too hot to move。 No moderation。
He climbed up into the cab； wound the window down； he should have done that as soon as he arrived。 He felt in his pockets for cigarettes and matches…his hands were still shaking。 Deliberately blowing smoke at the flies。 Take that lot； you bastards。 They bunched and buzzed their protest but they did not fly off。
Finger on the starter button； he hesitated。 Listening； Listening intently； anticipating slitherings and stirrings from the back。 They can't get into the cab even if they escape from their containers。 Can they？
Then the thunder rolled again； terminating in a reverberating clap almost overhead。 The sun was obscured by the advancing clouds which brought with them a gloom that was akin to dusk。 Eerie。
He pressed the starter and the engine turned over maybe half a dozen times before it fired。 This van was a heap of crap； a 'P'…registered vehicle that had struggled to pass its MOT。 Like everything else at Hadleys Transport it was on the way out。 But in this day and age a job was a job and you stuck it。
Ken Wilson let in the clutch and the van rolled forward； crunched on the gravel as he turned towards the main gates。 A few rain spots smacked on the windscreen； but the expected downpour did not follow。 The storm was ing from the south…west； he was travelling north。 He might just keep ahead of it。 He was going to do his damnedest； anyhow。
Motorway…1 mile。 A sense of freedom； no stops until he reached his destination。 One last glance in the direction of those hideous council flats。 Just thinking about Veronica gave him an arousement。 Well； that was all she was good for； get her out of bed and she wasn't much use for anything else。 No intelligence； you couldn't take her anywhere； not with that whining plaining voice。 Veronica's virtues began and ended between her thighs。 All the same； he hoped she was OK。 Hell； he was getting a guilt plex。
The motorway was unusually busy； an unending line of trundling trucks in the slow lane； cars cruising in the middle one。 He awaited his chance and pulled out； got in behind a Mini Clubman estate that seemed packed with kids and luggage right up to the roof。 A gimmicky notice above the rear number plate read： 'If you can read this you're too bloody close。' Silly buggers； what did they expect on the motorway？ If you dropped back then somebody overtook you and cut in front so you couldn't make a gap no matter what you did。 The roads were dry。 All the same； Ken doubted if he could pull up in time if anything happened in front。 Very few drivers could。
The sun was shining again。 He glanced in his mirror； saw those black and yellow clouds way behind； thought he could make out the rain sheeting down。 He'd give the storm a run for its money。 He experienced momentary exhilaration。
He was watching those kids in the Clubman quarrelling and fighting when something on the seat beside him moved； something cylindrical； rolling； jerking。 Oh God！ The van swerved violently and he only just hauled it back into the middle lane in time。 Horns blared； somebody flashed his headlights。
Now he could see the offending object lying motionless on the floor； a screwdriver； one he had used to tighten a loose screw on〃 the dash earlier and had left lying on the seat。 Bloody hell； for a moment he had thought it was a 。。。
Don't think about those snakes。 Like the man at the zoo said； you won't even have to unload them at the other end。 You can report your arrival； go and get a cup of tea and by the time you get back you'll have an empty van to take home。 As simple as that。 You're just a driver； Ken Wilson； nothing else。
He would have to break the return journey overnight。 That was a bit of a bummer when there was a teenage girl waiting back home； willing to do anything you wanted her to。 If it wasn't for these bloody tachometers they fitted in HGVs these days he would have put his foot down and gone all out to get home in one run。
Those bloody kids in front were getting on his nerves。 One had climbed over into the boot and was clinging precariously on to a pile of luggage and trying to kick hell out of the other at the same time。 Why； for fuck's sake； didn't their bloody parents do something about it！ Vandals and muggers in the making； that's how it all started； a lack of discipline in the home。
The sun had gone behind the clouds and it was hotter than ever。 That crap cooling system must have packed up altogether。 Wilson wondered if he could get his overalls undone whilst he was driving but changed his mind when a police patrol car passed him in the fast lane。 The sweat was pouring off him； his trousers were stuck to the seat。
In his mirror he noticed headlights being used； and switched his own on。 Those thunder clouds had moved at an unbelievable rate of knots。 Now he heard the thunder again； resonant rolls like an angry monster roaring it