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earth.'
'Where d'you reckon they came from?'
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'At the moment we're only hazarding guesses. There have been rumours of Soviet
underwater nuclear experiments and it could have led to a mutation but we've
no proof. If we can kill one of these crabs and have a good look at it then we
might be able to come up with something more positive. But in the meantime our
two priorities are to stop an invasion of the land and to kill this crab in
the lake before it runs amok in the camp. By the way, how's the young boy who
saw the crab? It's been hours since I questioned him and he was pretty
shocked.'
'He'll be OK,' Miles Manning pushed his chair back, got to his feet, a sign
that the meeting was coming to a close. 'I've got one of my Greencoats
personally looking after his mother and the two kids, She's more shaken than
the boy. I guess those kids had two very close calls.'
'They certainly did,' Cliff Davenport extended a hand. Thanks for your
co-operation, Manning. Now I must be getting back to the operational
headquarters in Barmouth. It's after ten, now. If you want me you've got my
phone number, but I think these troops will take care of the crab in the lake.
If they manage to kill it I'll come back tomorrow and do an autopsy.' Miles
Manning sat at his desk for a long time after the Professor had left. Maybe
these crabs might do him a big favour after all, the biggest holiday draw of
all time. But in the meantime the tension in the Blue Ocean Holiday Camp was
escalating. There could be all kinds of trouble if mass hysteria erupted. The
camp security force and the Greencoats had been briefed but would they be able
to cope?
Manning was exhausted but he knew he would not be able to sleep, at least not
until the crab in the lake had been exterminated. Wearily he went outside.
He'd better go down there and see how things were working out.
The full moon in the summer night sky went virtually unnoticed in the glare of
artificial light which lit up the camp so that it was almost brighter than it
was by day. The bingo halls were noisy, suddenly crowded again as campers
sought some form of distraction. The fairground was still open, crazy-waltzers
and bumper cars adding that mundane touch of reality which was so vital in
this situation. The Greencoat Show had just finished and crowds were pouring
out of the theatre, queuing at the fish and chips and hot-dog bars. Strangely,
the seafood stalls were not doing the expected late-evening trade; they hadn't
yet thought of blaming it on the crabs.
Seachlights lit up the boating lake. A row of armoured cars were drawn up
almost to the line of demolished railings, soldiers engaged upon a variety of
duties. But everybody was still waiting and watching. So far there was not a
ripple on the dirty water to betray the presence of the lurking crustacean.
Perhaps it wasn't there after all, had somehow escaped unseen and gone back to
the sea. Wishful optimistic thinking by holidaymakers who prayed that somehow
they could return to their homes.
But it was there all right. It could not be anywhere else. A young rookie
fingered his repeating rifle, couldn't help thinking about those poor sods on
Shell Island. A shiver ran up and down his spine. Come on, you bastard, show
yourself and let's get it over. Kill or be killed.
A lessening of the background noise. The bingo callers were silent, the
fairground was closing down for the night. The crowds had mostly drifted away
apart from the most ghoulish ones who were determined to sit it out and see
some action, for surely something had to happen sooner or later.
The silence was worst of all. The soldier found himself listening, trying to
identify sounds. You could hear the sea below, the breakers crashing against
the sea-wall as though they were trying to smash it down so that the crab army
could shamble ashore and wreak havoc and death. He was just beginning to
believe that it was all true after all.
All eyes were on the still black water, seeing ripples that weren't there,
shapes that were only shadows cast by moving searchlights.
Everybody was waiting. Just as the main crab army was waiting beneath the
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waves a few miles down the coast off Barmouth harbour. The full moon had
almost reached its zenith; that would be the signal to attack for just as the
moon controlled the tides it was the mysterious god of the creatures which
inhabited the deep. It would lead them into battle when the hour was nigh.
Chapter Eight
Early Monday Morning - Barmouth
JEAN RUDDJNGTON had fully intended to be back on Marine Parade around six
o'clock. A lift with those lusting squaddies was the only way she was going to
get back to the Blue Ocean Holiday Camp.
'You don't have to go back,' Gerry was still dressing, his dark skin
glistening with perspiration. He would have a shower later, or perhaps he
would let the sweat dry on him, its slightly sour smell an erotic reminder of
what had happened between them this afternoon.
'I do,' she was adamant. 'I have a job to look after and jobs aren't easy to
come by these days. Pm in the Greencoat Show tonight, a special performance to
keep the campers happy and try to make 'em forget the crabs.'
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