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
