Keelin turned to Brice, shaking her head. He tried to read her expression, but hair hung over her eyes as usual. She didn’t smile. And then she, too, turned her back on Brice.
He looked at the foodpack in his hand, and the allergy warning wasn’t so funny now.
Tris and Keelin sussed privately, cutting Brice out and leaving him on his own. His muscles ached, because his lattice was doing nothing to aid recovery. He felt cold, his clothing held too much water, and the grit and silt and whatever else irritated his skin. He was the grunt, but without his lattice he was even less.
And without his lattice, he had no protection.
The foodpack in his hand was a curry, and it listed nuts as a possible risk. Was Brice allergic to them? He had no idea.
He pictured the scene—a meal in the semi-dark, and Brice convulsing as the nut paste or whatever it was attacked his body. He imagined the others rushing to his aid as he collapsed on the floor, shaking as violently as Cathal had done. He imagined how he’d go into a coma. Maybe Ryann would have to shove something into his mouth to keep his airway open, or stop his throat swelling and blocking.
Maybe she’d be too late.
But even if she was in time, his chances of survival were low.
Two unconscious crew-members. If the remaining three couldn’t carry them both, they’d have to make a decision—the commander or the grunt.
Brice had no doubt which way they’d go.
He wondered if Ryann would give him something to end it, or if they’d leave him in the hold-out. Maybe they’d send someone out to retrieve his body once they were safely in Haven.
And would anyone care? Ryann might act upset, but that would be because she couldn’t keep her crew together. Tris would probably be pleased. And Keelin?
If Brice thought she cared, he knew he was kidding himself. She was too close to Tris, too wrapped up in their techno-crap.
Brice was nothing.
Ryann had to get out.
Was that selfish? She wasn’t sure. All she knew for certain was that the walls were closing in, and that she couldn’t think. She needed space. She needed to get out of that tomb.
She was failing. She had no idea how to prevent Cathal’s condition from deteriorating. Without power, she had no way of calling for help. And she could do nothing to stop the animosity between Brice and Tris.
Her crew was falling apart. And all she wanted to do was run away.
In the space behind the door, she took a long, deep breath. The air was close and still, almost stale, but above her was the hatch. Maybe a lungful of the night air would help. Maybe the rain on her face would wake her up.
She climbed the metal rungs, noticing how polished they were. She didn’t know if that was because they hadn’t been used, or because this hold-out had been tended recently. With the lack of power, there was no way of accessing the building’s data.
Ryann reached the hatch, and she paused, pushing out with her lattice, reaching through the thick concrete and the harsh metal. Beyond the hold-out, the signals were fluid, more animated, and she searched for familiar traces.
There were no warths but there was something else.
She closed her eyes and focused. The trace was strong but indistinct, and that indicated a number of beings at a distance. So there was more than one of those creatures. Ryann concentrated, but she couldn’t get a firm grasp. She had no idea how many there were.
But none of the creatures were close to the hatch. There was no risk. She had to do this.
Ryann spun the rotary plate on the hatch. Then she clicked the clasp open and pushed.
Water ran down the walls before she’d pushed the hatch fully open, and the roar of the storm washed over her. Rain stung her face, and the sky lit up as a peal of thunder followed the lightning. Tree-tops whipped back and forth, the rustling of the leaves angry and agitated.
And Ryann welcomed it all.
She pulled up filters to combat the darkness, and checked the traces again. The creatures were still at a distance, but they seemed…interested. She imagined they must have noticed the hatch opening.
Ryann climbed a rung higher, and her head cleared the hatch. Water splashed on the concrete roof, pooling in places so that it looked almost alive. She looked to the edges of the hold-out, and out into the trees. There was too much movement, but she could sense patches of stillness, like the void that surrounded the creature in the cave.
Ryann realised she’d felt that in the hold-out, too. Not from the forest, but from Cathal. His lattice fought hard, but beneath the heat and energy was a similar dark limbo.
She knew what that had to mean, and it terrified her.
She steadied her feet and turned, making a full three-sixty. She scanned, reading the forest to the best of her abilities. She’d told Keelin they needed data, and so she pulled as much in as possible. She mapped the trees, and the landing pad. Further out were paths, and Ryann caught the traces of warths, maybe a few days old.
But they were not as strong as the signals from the creatures that surrounded the hold-out.
They evaded her sight, but she knew they were there. They hid in the shadows, at ground level and higher up. She could not detect individuals, but felt them like a being with many parts, like a connected pack.
A multitude, with a single purpose.
She pushed further, seeking a stronger signal, something that would indicate a leader, or maybe a consciousness driving the rest. But she found nothing.
They were an army without a head.
They watched, and they waited.
Ryann
