Eight by WW Mortensen

Author:WW Mortensen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: WW Mortensen
Published: 2019-02-02T16:00:00+00:00

51

Rebecca was in the blind, alone. Behind the netting, two guards stood quietly.

She glanced at her watch. Forty minutes had passed since Ed had entered the burrow, thirty since he’d last reported in. She was getting worried. Where was he?

She scratched her right arm. This morning a lesion had risen there, probably an infected mosquito bite. She was surprised and concerned her carefully maintained defences had been breached, and clearly more than once; other sores dotted her body, too. But the welt high on her forearm was the problem—the itch was maddening. Raised like a rash, it seemed to be getting worse by the minute. A pinprick of blood and pus had pooled at its head and she wiped it away.

She did her best to ignore it and lifted the binoculars to her eyes. Realistically, she didn’t think Ed would be exiting the tunnel just yet, but in the absence of radio contact, she had an overwhelming need to locate him visually.

Since he’d entered the burrow, Rebecca had been left largely to her own devices—ignored by Oliveira, though always shadowed by two of his men. Following Ed’s first report, Oliveira had disappeared. Where to, she had no idea. For the most part, she had kept her vigil here, though minutes ago she’d returned to camp to check on Jessy and bring her up to speed. Jessy had seemed distant and removed, erecting a wall, perhaps, against the inevitable threat of bad news.

Without warning, Oliveira appeared behind her and Rebecca jumped. He crouched beside her as the comm radio on the ground between them hissed to life.

A wash of static, then Ed’s voice: “You there? I’ve made it. I’m out of the burrow.”

Rebecca’s heart leapt. She snatched up the radio. Minutes ago, she’d tried to raise Ed herself, but had gotten static. She’d figured the burrow had been interfering with the signal; either that, or Ed had switched off the radio for the remainder of the journey.

“Ed, we’re here,” she said. “What do you see?”

A pause.

“Not much. Without the flares and the goggles, nothing at all. It’s pitch-black in here.” Ed carried infrared flares—virtually invisible to the human eye, but able to increase the brightness and range of the NVGs, which needed minimal light to function.

“I’m currently standing…”—static—“…cross-tunnel of some sort… a T-junction. The burrow opened straight into it. This new tunnel runs roughly north-south. And you know…”—more static—“…it might even be man-made. It seems to be lined with silk, like the burrow… stale smell.”

The signal wavered and then cut out altogether before coming back. The reception was poor. Several of Ed’s words were lost.

“…otherwise, all’s quiet.” More interference, then: “Any suggestions… direction?”

“North is where the plane is,” Rebecca said.

“North it is, then. The air seems a little fresher… I’m heading uphill…”

“Ed, I think we should maintain radio silence where possible. Just keep us informed.”

“Okay, will do. Speak to you soon, then. Out.”

The radio went dead.

Rebecca returned the handset to the ground and scratched her arm again.

“So far, so good,” Oliveira said without turning, lighting a cigarette and taking a long draw.

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