by TW Iain
Tris staggered up to the top. Brice considered holding a hand out to help, but Tris was bound to take that the wrong way.
“This is?” he asked, and Tris glared at him.
“Course it is. Come on.” He stormed off, to the centre of the pad. Brice trailed behind, keeping an eye and both torches on the surrounding forest.
Tris slid his pack off, opened it and removed the equipment. “I need your pack as well.”
Brice shuffled it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. He continued watching the trees, walking in a tight circle. Tris muttered something, and Brice heard canvas, then clicks as data-boy slotted boosters and relays into place. After a few more rotations, Brice glanced down and saw a red glow.
“Just checking. Give it a chance.”
There was movement by the ramp. Brice swung both torches round. A clawed hand slithered in the mud, retreating into the shadows. Brice lowered his beams, and waited, watching. When shadows moved again, he waited still, then darted the torches up.
This time he caught the creature full in its face, and its angry hiss cut through the roar of the storm. Brice held his arms straight as the thing backed away, shielding its eyes.
But it only backed away a step or two. Then it stumbled forward. The hiss turned into a shriek, and in the torchlight Brice saw its flesh start to bubble.
There was a second creature, shielded by the first. It pushed, keeping low, keeping out of sight. But when the first creature fell, steam rising from its bubbling hide, the second cried out and slid back down the ramp.
“We need to move,” Brice said.
He sniffed the stench of burning decay, and took a step toward the ramp. There was no more movement. Everything felt…unreal.
“Fine. Made contact. Ryann’s talking to Haven.” Tris tapped Brice on the shoulder, almost earning himself a punch. “You going to do your stuff with the lantern?”
Brice nodded, and they swapped positions Tris walked round as Brice grabbed the last two torches from the packs. He pulled down the sleeves, then tore off strips of tape and secured them in place. Finally, he thumbed the controls, and shielded his eyes from the brilliance.
“Done,” he said, standing. “How are we looking?”
“Fine.”
No mention of creatures on the ramp. Maybe Brice had scared them off.
There was another flash of lightning, and the thunder crashed through the forest. Brice flinched—they were exposed up here, and that sounded close.
“You hear that?” Tris said.
“Yeah, thunder.” Brice peered towards the ramp. “Lots about, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“No, not that. There was a crack.”
“Didn’t hear anything.” Brice listened. Nothing but the storm. “Let’s go.”
They left the empty packs on the ground, and Brice followed Tris. Bringing up the rear. Watching both their backs.
The ramp was more treacherous on the way down, and Brice turned his feet to the side, angling his body towards the slope. He felt his calves pulling, and he trailed one hand in the mud to keep himself balanced.
Tris didn’t have any technique. He tried walking straight down, and after only a couple of steps his arms, already outstretched, started to cartwheel. His body rocked back and forth for a moment, and then he fell.
Brice tried not to laugh.
Tris grunted as he landed on his back, and then he slid down the ramp. Brice followed, pushing into controlled slides, knees bent to absorb as much of the shock as possible.
When they were down, Brice couldn’t hold back the laughter any more. Tris was covered in mud. It streaked his face and plastered his hair. He looked like he’d been bathing in the stuff.
“Not funny!” Tris said, and that just made Brice want to chuckle even more.
“You might want to clean your torches,” he said, pointing to the one on Tris’ chest. Mud covered the lens in a thick, oozing mess, and the light that managed to work through had a dim brown quality, a far cry from the previous yellow-hued warmth.
A sound in the trees made Brice look up sharply. He caught something shifting round a trunk, hiding in the shadows.
“Clean the torches. Come on, Tris! You want those things to come for you?”
That got the message across. Tris looked up, startled, then rubbed at one torch then the other, flicking mud off and smearing the rest. But the sol light burnt through stronger now.
“You do the others.” Tris said, turning. Brice wiped the two on his back, the mud warm and slimy, while Tris saw to the torch on his chest.
“Done,” he said, when the glow around Tris looked more like daylight. “Let’s head back.”
Tris nodded, turned, and set off down the path. It twisted and narrowed. Brice thought he remembered it, but he couldn’t be sure. The trees seemed closer, and he heard the creatures in the shadows—the rustling of leaves, the creaking of branches, and the low, penetrating sibilance of escaping breath.
Still the rain poured down. The path was a quagmire, and Brice stumbled far too often. He trod on plants and roots whenever he could, but most of the time he trudged through mud, and the pressure was burning his legs.
And then Tris stopped. He pointed along the path, cursing loudly.
At first Brice saw nothing amiss, just more trees. And then he realised what he was looking at. It was a tree, but it wasn’t standing.
It lay across the path, blocking the way totally. The thick trunk itself rose over their heads, but that wasn’t the worst of their problems. Over the trunk were a tangle of branches and a thick web of leaves. Peering into the greenery, Brice saw shapes shifting, jockeying for position.
“We’re screwed,” Brice said, and Tris didn’t contradict him.
“We’re going to get out of this, aren’t we?” Keelin looked up with pleading eyes, and Ryann knew what she wanted to hear. But she wasn’t going to lie.
“I hope so,” she said. “If…when Tris and Brice get the relay in place, we’ll be able to contact Haven. Even if we have to sit it out here for a couple more hours, we should be fine.”
“You think they’ll be okay?”
“They’re big boys. They can cope with the forest.”
“But can they cope with each other?”
That was a perceptive question, and Ryann gave no answer.
“I could have gone with Tris,” Keelin said. “Then you could have kept an eye on Brice. Made sure he was okay, what with being dark.”
“Possibly, but as I said, Brice is…trained for more physical stuff. You know that. And if they have something to do, they won’t be…diverted into acting like a couple of kids.”
That brought a smile to Keelin’s face. It was the right thing to say. Better, at least, than what had been in Ryann’s mind—that Keelin would not have coped out there. She was barely holding it together as it was.
“Kids is right. Don’t know why they act like that.”
“You don’t?” Maybe this was the distraction Keelin needed.
Keelin shrugged. “Jockeying for position. Some kind of macho crap. Although that’s a bit of a throwback, isn’t it? Thought we were supposed to have evolved past that.”
“Evolution is survival of the fittest. There will always be competition. Everyone wants to be top dog.”
“Not me.”
“You want to be the best pilot, don’t you?”
“Suppose. But that’s different. I don’t put others down like they do. I don’t start fighting just to prove a point.”
“No? How often do you take breaks when you’re tired?”
“I take breaks!”
“But only when…only when someone reminds you to. Admit it—you’re a good pilot, and you want others to know it.”
Keelin looked away and shrugged. That was answer enough.
“But it’s natural,” Ryann continued, knowing she needed to keep this positive. “Don’t let it bother you. Just watch ou
t that it doesn’t cause problems.”
“What about you? Can’t see you being that petty, Ryann. You’re always looking out for us, like a…like we’re important to you.”
Ryann filled in the word Keelin had avoided, and it hurt. Did the girl see Ryann as a mother-figure? Did that make Cathal a father-figure? Yes, that made sense, but Ryann wasn’t old enough…she wasn’t ready…she wasn’t a mother. She held a more senior position, but she was still just another crew member.
But she pushed her annoyance to one side. “That’s because you are important to me. This crew’s family. And I want it to be the best in Haven.”
“We are.”
“Of course.”
Only we’re not in Haven, Ryann thought. We’re trapped in the forest, and our commander is turning into some kind of monster. Two of us are walking through the trees, protected by a few torches against creatures that can kill warths, and two of us are talking girl-talk because we’re not able to do anything else. And in a few hours time, we could all be dead. Or worse.
“You sense Tris or Brice at all?” Keelin asked.
Ryann shook her head. She’d kept her connection to the relay open, but so far hadn’t got a single ping.
“How long before they get that relay set up?”
“Should be there about now.”
As if on cue, a voice reached into her head.
Keelin grinned, and Ryann felt the relief wash over her. Or maybe that was Ryann’s own relief.
Ryann sent a protocol message.
There was nothing for a moment, then a voice flowed into her mind.
Ryann shook. She exhaled, unaware until now that she’d been holding her breath. She wanted to cry. She wanted to hug Keelin.
But she took a breath and calmed the adrenaline racing through her system.
Of course she had a report ready. All the thoughts, all the data—everything had been building in Ryann’s storage, and she’d returned to it almost as a comfort, pulling phrases out to create a summary. Until this point, she hadn’t even realised she was compiling a report. It was simply something she did.
The slip from protocol shocked her, and she didn’t know if it was good or bad.
Brice stared up at the tree. “We go over it?” he asked, even though he knew that wasn’t an option. Even if they could cut through with their knives, the creatures waited inside.
“What do you think?” Tris snapped back.
“There another way round?”
“I’m checking. Stop asking stupid questions.”
Brice held his hands up in surrender and stepped back a pace, then played his torches over the trees. Shadows shifted all around, and up high branches moved through more than the wind. All it would take was a handful of the creatures to drop, and Brice and Tris would be done for. Even if the first ones burnt up, the ones behind would have some shelter from the light. Enough to take a few swipes with their claws. And that was all it would take.
They should have walked faster. If Tris had picked up the pace and trusted his feet, they could have cleared this path before the tree fell. If he hadn’t wanted to check everything so many times, they’d probably be back at the hold-out by now, out of the storm, with help on its way. But no, he had to make sure. He had to go slow and careful. And now, his hesitation had screwed them.
“There’s another track,” Tris said. “Come on.” He pushed past Brice, heading back towards the landing pad. Brice shrugged and followed.
After a couple of paces, Tris turned to the right. There was a path of sorts, but Brice thought of claws sweeping out, and he shuddered.
“You sure?” He asked.
“No other way. What, you scared?”
Brice shook his head, even though he was. But so was Tris. Brice could practically smell the fear pouring off him.
“Come on then.” Tris turned, swallowing, and made his way into the trees. Brice followed once more.
Branches closed in all around. That stopped the worst of the rain, but now each drop of water was bigger, and as each one struck him Brice thought of what else was up there. A roar filled his ears, and he could no longer tell what was the forest, what was the creatures, and what was the blood rushing around his body. His muscles tightened with the too-warm after-glow of adrenaline. His fingers gripped the torches, and he moved in a crouch, ready to run.
As if he could outrun those things.
“You know where you’re going?” he asked.
“Shut up.”
The track dissolved into little more than a twisting gap between angry branches. They clawed at his face, and pulled at his arms. Creepers lay in wait, tight against his boots, and Brice staggered with every step. His legs burnt from the effort of pushing through the undergrowth.
And he expected every step to be his last.
Brice wondered if he’d feel the claws slice into him, or if realisation would only come once his blood had run free. He tensed, knowing he’d never be ready for the fangs sinking into his skin, ripping through his flesh.
“Trees open up here,” Tris said, his voice full of relief.
Brice looked through Tris’ circle of light, and his chest thudded with relief. A few steps more, and the track became a path once more. The trees parted, and they stepped into a small clearing. Now, if the creatures wanted to reach Brice, they would have to step into the torch-light.
He realised that it was not actually a clearing, but an intersection. The path they took dipped down, then rose ahead, continuing through the trees. Crossing this was a wider path, running along a depression. Only this wasn’t a path any more.
Tris stopped.
“That was our path,” he said quietly, his voice cracking. His arm shook as he pointed to the dip.
Their route lay along a trench, or maybe it was a big ditch. But the rain had been falling for
too long, filling the ditch with mud. But not the mud that clung to other paths. Not mud that they could walk through.
This mud was moving. The path was a brown, oozing river.
“Any other way?” Brice asked.
“Checking.”
The stench of the mud was almost overpowering, the taste hitting the back of Brice’s throat and making him gag.
“If we can get over, that track can take us back.”
“Rope?”
“You got any?”
Brice shook his head as the brown river slid past. It was almost hypnotic, the way the gunk folded over itself. Not liquid, but not solid either. He imagined stepping into the river and sinking into the ooze, leisurely feeling the mud encase his body. He wondered if it would be warm.
He wondered how far down he’d go.
And Brice realised he couldn’t see the ground beneath the mud. He had no idea of the depth.
Brice turned to the trees, searching for something to use. He reached out and pulled, and a branch tore free with a satisfying crack. It was smooth and old, more of a pole than a branch.
“You going to make us a bridge?” Tris’ tone was mocking. Brice chose to ignore him. Stupid comments wouldn’t get them any further.
He crept down the bank, to the edge of the mud. With one hand grasping some kind of fern, and a part of him terrified that it would break, Brice reached out and pushed the branch into the slow river. He felt the mud sucking angrily at it, but he held his wrist firm and pushed the pole down. And down.
Even before his hand reached the mud itself he knew this was pointless. He released the branch, and it slid beneath the surface and disappeared.
“You finished playing?”
Brice took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Checking the depth,” he explained. “Just in case…but it’s too deep.”
“Could’ve told you that before.”
“At least I’m trying.” Brice straightened up and stepped away from the bank.
“Fat lot of good it’s doing us.” Tris took a step closer, the torch on his chest shining into Brice’s eyes. “That’s all you ever do, isn’t it? You try. About time you started doing instead.”