by Andy Lucas
He took a moment to consider the dense walls of vegetation that imprisoned them and irritably slapped away a huge mosquito trying to make a meal of his left eyelid. Typically, in that steaming swelter and humidity, his respite was brief and the annoying bug soon returned with a horde of its friends. Those last thirty hours slogging up the road, nearly all of it in a deluge, had served to drain everyone virtually to breaking point. They were all in one piece but ready to drop.
Pace checked his watch as he tapped his code into the checkpoint and pressed his thumbs against the screen. Ruby followed and then helped him set up the shelter while the others checked in. He switched the transmitter from internal to external and called back to base.
The computer had already signalled their arrival at the checkpoint and they were congratulated. McEntire wasn’t there, apparently off in the city meeting some media executives. Finally, all able to rest, they sank to the water-pitted ooze that passed for the road surface; each of them sucking hard at the slightly cooling evening air. Pace felt shattered but exhilarated at the same time. He had made it through a gruelling section over several days and his chest, though sore and burning constantly, had yet to fail.
Even the ever-present rain seemed less oppressive as they acclimatised to its power and all quickly learned the effect it had on their speed.
As official timekeeper, he’d already agreed a change in the rest periods once they hit the bikes. Rest stops would now be broken down into eight fifteen-minute stops, two thirty-minute stops and a sleep period of three hours. They’d saved enough time at the last sleep period to give them an initial break of one hour at the checkpoint before they would need to mount the bikes and be off.
Most of the weight of their packs came from the many bottles of water and soft drinks they had to lug with them – there wasn’t any fresh water in the jungle unless you counted the rain and they didn’t have time to worry about collecting it; it was a race after all, not a survival test. Each plastic bottle compacted down after use and the packs were filled with empties.
Pace only had one bottle of water left but he wasn’t bothered. At the start of every section there were fresh supplies. True enough, three steel chests sat on the ground by the checkpoint, marked for each team. Their chest was opened and dozens of full bottles were swapped for crushed empties.
Setting up the broadcast camera, he shot some really intimate footage of the team in suffering mode. Sprawled across the road, athletes stretched and adventurers rubbed aching muscles to dull the pain and stay limber. Everyone, without exception, was grateful for the extended rest and wished it could be longer. They’d all pushed hard the last few miles, knowing the bikes lay so close by.
Hammond decided to hand out some sport drinks and energy biscuits when nobody volunteered to cook a real meal. Pace quickly became lost in the art of filming, double-checking the white balance, sound level db’s and experimenting with several takes of the same general scene; even trying his hand at a few pulled-focus shots.
It was a brilliant camera to work with and he begrudged the time it took for him to bolt down his own biscuit and pint of drink. It was almost accidental that he checked his watch just in time to shout a ten-minute warning to everyone; given there was no sleep involved this time, he had not bothered to set the alarm. In return, Ruby forced him to cram down another dry biscuit.
Pace crossed over to the waiting machines, ready for a change from footwork. They stood in a neat row, in the middle of the road, almost expectantly. There were two tandem bicycles and one single, just as expected. All were top-of-the-range mountain bikes and each sported large knobbly tyres and a great deal of polished metal.
Titanium framed, they were very strong yet allegedly lightweight and finely balanced on intricate suspension systems. Twenty-one gears on each was a daunting thought but he knew they’d get the hang of things. Shiny cycling helmets hung from the various handlebars, each sporting the name of a member on its front in bold, black lettering. The head of every racer had been meticulously measured and these same helmets fitted to their heads the week before the race started.
‘Let’s go. Time’s up,’ Pace said.
Ruby would take the single bike for the first stretch and act as the team’s eyes. Pace would double with Cosmos on one of the slower tandems. Hammond was with Attia on the other one.
‘No more walking. I like it,’ beamed Attia, apparently grateful to give his sore feet a rest.
Pace climbed up onto the front seat of his bike and Cosmos mounted the seat behind him. He reached an arm out to the automated box and lifted a small flap on the top. Underneath the protective flap sat a small trigger switch. He pressed it down and heard it click home. The click sent a confirmation signal that they were starting the second section. He’d barely drawn his arm back towards the handlebars before a huge surge of power erupted from the big man behind him, sending them rocketing up the muddy road. His own legs scrabbled for the wildly spinning pedals and pressed into them.
Pumping his legs strongly, they soon settled into a good rhythm. The two tandem bikes pitched along, side by side. Ruby, however, sat up from her seat and pumped her lithe legs furiously on the pedals. She slowly pulled ahead of the rest of them to assume her trouble-shooting position up at the front.
A few minutes into the cycling section, with his breathing easier as his body adjusted to the shift in exercise level from being at rest, Pace was able to spend a few minutes filming with the MicroCam, plucking it deftly from his belt and holding it in one hand; needing the other for the handlebars. The riders bumped their way along the devastated highway for about a mile before it took a slow, easy amble off to the north and rose up a little.
With the height rise, the road lifted above any floodwater and the surface quality improved. The brownish roadway became drier and smoothed out, as did his shots, although the rain started to fall heavily again; filling the noticeably fewer number of potholes within seconds.
‘Rain, rain and more rain,’ muttered Hammond, his voice clearly coming into Pace’s headset.
‘No wonder they gave up on this road,’ Pace replied. ‘It’s no more than a wide track here.’
‘Only the main areas were ever planned to be paved,’ piped up Attia. ‘What wasn’t built properly was just levelled and compacted. It’s held up remarkably well considering where we are and how little traffic it gets.’
‘Everyone’s either back in the cities or using the rivers to travel around again. It’s quicker and more reliable,’ reminded Hammond.
‘Will they keep it open?’ Pace asked.
‘Should they bother?’ replied Hammond. ‘It would take a lot of money to make this road actually work. It would need to be raised in level, given strong foundations and proper drainage. That amount of in-fill, concrete and steel would cost billions.’
‘I don’t see this road doing anything but slipping back into jungle,’ said Attia.
‘That would be a shame. After so much work to cut the road, it seems a hell of a waste.’
‘Mother Earth is just claiming back what’s rightfully hers.’ Pace couldn’t see Ruby because she was too far ahead and the light was almost completely gone, but her voice came across as strongly as anyone else’s.
Pace took a moment to wipe his lens and quickly filmed the forbidding walls of jungle on either side of him, panning around to show his fellow riders cycling doggedly through a veiled curtain of rain. He squinted through the gloom and was just able to make out Ruby’s position by the small orange dot on her backpack. ‘Ruby,’ he called into his tiny, wire mouthpiece. ‘How are things up ahead?’
‘Just the same as back there, I imagine,’ she replied cheerily. ‘The road is supposed to be navigable for the next hundred miles, even in the wet season.’
‘The basin doesn’t have a wet season,’ corrected Attia officiously. ‘The fringes do, as does the rest of the country, but the rain forest proper is a self-contained weather system, just continually recycling the same old water vapo
ur.’
‘Although,’ Ruby’s tone hardened, ‘I was about to say that there isn’t strictly a wet season here.’
‘Sorry,’ said Attia reproachfully. ‘I must stop finishing other people’s sentences for them. Bad habit.’
‘Yes, it is.’
‘About the road?’ Pace coaxed Ruby back on the subject.
‘It was checked out by satellite but there’s no saying the rain won’t have changed things on the ground. These bikes are the best around. We should be fine.’
‘It’s getting very dark,’ said Hammond. ‘Time to break out the toys yet?’
Each bike had its own set of powerful lights, at the front and the back. Both were powered by sealed batteries and topped up via a dynamo as they pedalled. The front beam especially cut an impressive swathe in the thickening darkness but they’d never planned to use them during the night. It was just too risky to use them for anything other than late afternoon and early morning illumination.
Keeping up speed and remaining safe at night required something a little special. This was why each team member had been given an experimental set of night glasses. Developed as the next generation in military night vision they looked nothing like the bulky goggles currently used in the field. Slim line, in the form of an ultra-lightweight strip-visor no thicker than your average pair of fashion shades, they nestled in a specially designed pouch on the side of everyone’s backpack.
The rules stated they could only use them on speed sections, which was why nobody had used them on the first section. They had all itched to use them, especially during the evil march to and from the challenge, but it would have been cheating and meant disqualification.
Ruby agreed with Hammond and they slowed to a halt, braking slowly in the soft mud. Ruby was completely lost from view as the rain grew heavier and colder. The Velcro flap on the side of his pack opened easily and Pace pulled the visor out. The camcorder was safely returned to his belt as he slipped them on just like a pair of spectacles, hooking the moulded arms over his ears underneath the hood of his yellow poncho. Nobody wasted any time getting going again and he was glad to have both hands firmly gripping the bars as the weather closed in.
The visor cast everything in a bright green hue, as clear as daylight, with every detail of his surroundings suddenly plucked from the pit of darkness and displayed for his viewing pleasure. It took a bit of getting used to, seeing everything in green, but the fact they’d been cocooned in a dark, green rainforest all day helped him adjust. The transformation was nothing short of magical.
‘Thank God for technology,’ said Attia. His tandem was bringing up the rear, with him on the rear seat. ‘How are you feeling, James? Any pains or breathing trouble?’ Did he look ill? He hoped not.
‘Not one, but don’t jinx me,’ Pace lied. ‘With Cosmos on my bike, I already feel like a freeloader. His legs are doing more work than mine.’ Sharper than before, the underlying pain around the site of his healed gunshot wound was becoming his secret travelling companion.
‘That’s okay,’ interrupted the giant’s voice on the radio, even though he could have leaned forward and spoken in Pace’s ear. ‘If I get tired, you can take over. Make the most of the rest.’ Then his familiar laughter boomed before suddenly quieting. Pace could still faintly hear him laughing but only because he was so close to him. His earpiece had died. He called out to the other riders but his headset remained stubbornly silent.
Twisting in his saddle, he craned his neck to see past Cosmos’s bulk. Sure enough, Attia and Hammond were both tapping at their headsets uncertainly. It was obviously not just him. Pace called for Ruby but knew it was no good. Something serious had happened to the transmitter and they needed to stop so he could take a look at it. He signalled Hammond to pull up, with his hand raised. Ruby, realising the headset had also packed up, pedalled back to join them a few minutes later.
‘What’s wrong with communications?’ Ruby asked.
‘Not being psychic, I’ve no idea,’ Pace replied truthfully. ‘I need to take a look.’ The rain fell heavily all around them as they formed up into a little huddle in the centre of the mud highway. Nobody got off their bike.
‘Can you do it in this?’ Cosmos raised his arms skyward, palms up to the falling water.
He was right. The set might need to be pulled right out of the backpack. It was water resistant, mainly to protect the innards against humidity. Examining it in the pouring rain wouldn’t do it any good at all.
‘If we ride within earshot of each other until the next stop, it won’t need fixing straight away. When we put up Lester, I’ll check it over in the dry.
‘Fine with me,’ said Hammond. ‘Let’s keep going for now.’
Attia looked nervously at the steep walls of jungle around him, knowing the time was fast approaching for him to act. Pace had never seen him look anything other than cool and calm and wondered idly what thoughts were running around his head. ‘We should go. Now,’ he insisted.
‘What’s wrong?’ asked Ruby. She was also surprised to see the doctor looking so uneasy.
‘Nothing,’ he replied, forcing a smile.
‘Nothing?’
‘No, Cosmos,’ Attia soothed, ‘I just think we need to get going.’
Pace wasn’t convinced but gave it no more thought as they all set off again. Ruby remained in the lead but only by a few feet. She could shout back if needed and still be heard above the rain.
Ten minutes later, his headset burst back into life; resurrected as quickly as it had died, as did all the others. The thought that the set wasn’t broken after all came as a relief to everyone but Attia. When he joined in the group conversations, his tone was tense and edged with unfamiliar steel. Something was agitating him but he wouldn’t be drawn.
Ruby pulled far ahead the moment the headsets were working again. Her voice stayed encouraging.
‘Remember, Tim’s team won’t be hanging around,’ she panted at one point, even her toned, lithe leg muscles straining to pedal through a sudden bog in the centre of the road. ‘They’ll be putting as much distance between themselves and us as they can before the road conditions get too bad. Time is of the essence, so keep pedalling!’
All normal traffic had been stopped for the duration of the race, although the road was little used in the deeper areas anyway. The only spectators they’d come across were the odd family of settlers they passed during the foot section, watching with interest as the foreigners sweated past their tiny, corrugated iron and wooden shacks, huddled forlornly along an illusion of civilisation.
The last few villages had long since been deserted and, by the time they reached the bikes, even abandoned huts had stopped appearing. The only locals, if there were any about, watched from the protection of the forest walls. Humanity, out here, was apparently extinct.
With no people to spot, and wildlife too wary to show itself, the only constants were the pouring rain, oppressive heat, thick humidity that drew sweat with the aggression of a dentist pulling teeth, and the ever-present biting insects. In fact, the one blessing of heavy rain was that it kept the mosquitoes at bay, allowing their bodies time to replenish depleted stocks of blood.
The rain fell steadily, hour on hour, straight down. With no breeze it didn’t bother their night vision by being driven into the visors. As long as you wiped them with your hand every few minutes, visibility was excellent. In fact, Pace found it to be eerily pleasant.
They rode as fast as they could down the centre of the road, which remained soft, but the big tyres only sank in a couple of centimetres before finding hard dirt beneath. Muddy water splashed high up their legs as large raindrops echoed off the slightly flooded ooze slipping beneath their wheels. An hour later, Pace called time.
The shelter went back up as rapidly as always and everybody squeezed inside. They left backpacks outside but Pace couldn’t film anything worthwhile because his hands were shaking with sheer exhaustion, so he gave up. They huddled together in the close confines of t
he shelter. It also allowed time to cook up another hot meal.
Nobody argued, especially when he slipped voluntarily from the shelter to set up his stove. More packs of freeze-dried food disappeared into a pot of water, to emerge thirty minutes later as delicious beef stew. As he passed the food packs back into the shelter, Pace slipped off his visor and allowed the darkness to wash over him.
A torch lit up the inside of the shelter but he couldn’t tell whose it was. For once, the dark jungle felt safe to him, not threatening. The air was lighter and smelled fresh; the rain just part of the picture. Slowly, quietly, he ate his meal outside, sitting alone and perched on top of his pack, allowing himself to think of nothing in particular.
The three hours they rested for were not enough for any of them to sleep. When the alarm on his wristwatch buzzed him into consciousness at the end of the break period, every one of them still resembled the undead. All grumbled in chorus about their cramps and aches but some humour remained. It was still pitch black as they stretched away the sleep from stiff muscles. The rain had finally died off to the lightest of drizzles.
Hammond took over at the front, with Ruby joining Attia on his tandem. Cosmos and Pace stayed together, with Cosmos’s powerful legs making all the running again.
The lighter rain should have helped them but the road started an almost imperceptible descent at this point, evidenced only by floods appearing at the edges within a couple of miles. After thirty minutes of cycling, even the centre of the road was covered by a thin brown sheet of water which grew gradually deeper. The road continued to run fairly straight but, if he did not know better, he’d have thought they were cycling along a shallow river. When the depth hit one foot, they had to slow down to walking speed because they had no idea of what lay hidden beneath the liquid’s surface.