Jak who stumbled on them. His left combat boot hit the harder surface of the backpacks that were being used as a roof for the trench. Expecting his foot to sink into the sand as before, he was surprised when he hit a harder surface, and an uneven one that made his ankle buckle beneath him.
âRyan, Krystyâ¦â he yelled, waving and beckoning to them in the wan light of the moon.
As they made their way over, battling the sapping desert floor to move as swiftly as possible, Jak began to dig. Eighteen inches of sand had gathered in some places, but only six or seven in others, as the bags revealed themselves to have been steepled on either side of the trench. As he burrowed into the sand, clearing as much as possible on his own, he became aware of some movement beneath the makeshift roof. The angle of the steepling changed as someone stirred beneath the cover.
Relieved that whoever was under there was still alive, Jak redoubled his efforts, and he had made good headway by the time he was joined by Krysty and Ryan, who immediately fell to their knees and helped him to dig. They cleared the backpacks of the sand that had buried them, and made an indent into the area around it.
âThink theyâre okay under there?â Krysty asked anxiously as they continued to dig.
âMebbe. Whoever it is, at least theyâre moving,â Ryan grunted as he worked.
The makeshift roof was cleared, and the three companions hurried to clear it away from the trench beneath, making room for whoever was underneath to come out.
âThank Gaia,â Krysty breathed as the last piece was removed and she saw J.B., Mildred and Doc lying huddled together. Doc was unconscious once more, but still breathing. Mildred was struggling to stay awake, her breathing labored and her eyes flickering, trying hard to focus. J.B. was the most aware, and it was the Armorer who had been trying to move the roofing from beneath as he heard the others dig and felt the weight upon them decrease.
âThought youâd never get here,â he croaked hoarsely, barely able to speak.
A hot, fetid air had escaped from the narrow trench as they had uncovered it. The air within was almost all that the trio had been able to breathe, the thick layers of sand gathering on top of the roofing making it hard for any other air to filter through. As a result, the heat had been unbearable, and the air had quickly grown foul. On top of their earlier problems with bad air in the redoubt, this had a bad effect on Doc, and the old man had passed out quickly. Mildred and J.B. had tried to keep their breathing as shallow as possible, but had still used the air quickly. If they hadnât been found, it would have been time for them all to buy the farm. The lack of oxygen combined with the weight of the sand pressing on them would have made it impossible for them to dig themselves out.
Ryan held out an arm, which J.B. took, helping to haul himself out of the trench. He collapsed on the sand beside the one-eyed warrior, gasping for breath as he fought to get some relatively fresh air back into his lungs. Jak plunged into the trench, into the gap that the Armorer had left, and lifted Mildred. As the fresher air of the desert night hit her, she began to stir, and Krysty was able to help her out. Mildred fell to the sands as the Armorer had, doubled over as she began to retch and puke.
Doc was harder to lift out. He was a deadweight, and the companions were exhausted from what they had already endured. It took some time for Krysty and Jak, assisted by Ryan, to lift the old man out and lay him on the sands.
Mildred came over to check him almost immediately.
âYou okay to do this?â Krysty asked her.
Mildred fixed her with a stare, then shook her head to clear it as the stare became glassy. âIâm not totally there yet, but itâs enough to see this old buzzard is okay,â she replied.
Docâs vital signs were good. He had passed out from the continuing lack of oxygen. Mildred hoped that the combined effects of the past few hours hadnât caused any lasting damage. Hell, right then she felt as though sheâd lost a few brain cells herself, let alone someone like Doc, who acted occasionally as if he didnât have any to spare.
Muttering to himself, lost in some private dream or nightmare, Doc began to surface. He opened his eyes and took in what was around. Remarkably, and with that facility that only Doc had to buck the odds, he seemed to be completely lucid almost immediately.
âBy the Three Kennedys, what a day this has been,â he remarked mildly. âAny more like that in a hurry, and I fear it shall see the last of me.â
âThatâs not the first time youâve said that, Doc,â Ryan stated.
âAnd I fear it shall not be that last,â Doc mused. âBut we carry on, my dear Ryan, because we have to⦠The option is too fearful to contemplate.â
âYeah, talk shit, you okay,â Jak commented.
Krysty had been surveying the surrounding desert while Mildred tended to Doc, and Ryan joined her.
âNot good, is it?â he murmured to her. âNothing for as far as the eye can see, and nothing we can use as shelter. The only good thing, as far I can reckon, is that weâre completely alone.â
She shook her head slowly, and he noticed that her hair was waving independently of her sway, the sentient red tresses flicking like an irritated catâs tail, gathering close to her head instead of flowing free. âThereâs something, lover. I dunno what it is, and I dunno where it comes from, but thereâs something out there that we really need to beware of.â
âBut what? Itâs like a vast fucking graveyard out there, a killing field with nothing left alive, everything chilledâ¦â Ryan was bewildered. It wasnât that he didnât trust her mutie sense. How much trouble had it saved them in the past? How many imminent dangers had it alerted them to? But what could be out there in this emptiness was something that was beyond him.
âWish I could tell you,â she muttered, drawing closer to him. âAll I know is that itâs there, whatever it isâ¦â
CHECKING THAT DOC WAS returning to normal, Ryan organized a camp for the night, setting watches and putting himself and Jak on first watch. They had no materials with which to build a fire, so those that were sleeping huddled together for warmth in the freezing desert night, warming themselves with some of the self-heats they had taken from the redoubt. The cans, with their thermal reactions that were triggered by the act of opening, always tasted foul. But taste wasnât an issue. It was nutrition, and it was warming. That was all that mattered. They had no time or option to be fussy about the additive-soaked flavors of the ancient food.
Despite the cold and the foul food, the four who were able to sleep soon found themselves falling into slumber, the rigors of the day and night catching up with them.
It left Ryan and Jak alone with the darkness and the void of the desert.
âWhat chances getting past this?â Jak asked softly, after some time. He had been squatting on his haunches, still and silent, surveying the night around him. Ryan had kept his peace, unwilling to break the incredible concentration of the albino mutie. Now he pondered an answer.
âYou tell me,â he said finally. âNo way to make a jump, no telling how far this stretches, and which direction to take.â
âTell you one thingâ¦no, two⦠We now in southeast, and not alone.â
Ryan looked at Jak, puzzled. âHow the fireblasted hell do you know that?â
Jak pointed up at the stars. âKnow sky. Not quite same, but not that different. We head out for west in morning, then sooner or later hit swamps and water.â
âHow far?â Ryan asked. He trusted Jak implicitly, and felt a sense of relief that was soon quashed.
âDunno. Not seen this desert before.â Jak shrugged. âMebbe a day, mebbe