Light At The End | Book 2 | Light To Dark

by Benson, Tom

  Harry pulled over a seat, and as he held the handset in his left hand, he used his right hand to gently adjust the old wheel-style dial. He listened for voice and watched the needle on the receiver’s meter swinging rapidly left, right and back again.

  Static increased and as it faded to a low hum a voice returned “… eight … nine … ten ….” static raised. As Harry slowly turned the dial back and forward the static decreased, the sound became clear. The needle settled close to the expected frequency, only flicking marginally left and right.

  “… fourteen … fifteen … sixteen … seventeen … eighteen … nineteen … twenty, over.”

  “Hello, Marianne, this is Harry, how are you receiving me, over.”

  “Hello, Harry … loud and clear and it’s good to hear your voice again, over.”

  “I haven’t had a signal from you for a while. Have you had a problem, over.”

  “My pocket of sunshine in the dust cloud hasn’t been strong enough for my system to work, and I only have a set of small panels now. We can talk for two minutes and then my power will fade. Are you still in the hydro-station, over.”

  “Yes, and things are going well. How many hours will you need for a recharge, over.”

  “I will leave it for forty-eight hours and call you again if that is okay, over.”

  “Forty-eight hours from now and I will be here waiting. Take care, over.”

  “You and your friends take care too, Harry … oh, and I have news of Jacob ….” the static returned, and the signal faded to nothing.

  “Hello, Marianne … Hello, Marianne, over.”

  Static returned briefly with a vengeance, so Harry turned down the volume and made a note of the amended frequency and the time.

  Cherry said, “Isn’t Jacob the Australian guy whom both of you lost contact with a few years back?”

  “Yes, so I hope the news Marianne wants to pass on is good.”

  “I’m sure you told us, but what happened with Jacob?”

  “He was a marine biologist although he referred to himself as a fisherman when he isolated himself. Right up until the world went crazy, he had been working on his boat. In the latter stages of the nuclear pounding, he told me he couldn’t afford to stay in Australia, so he set sail with a couple of others for New Zealand.”

  “I know it doesn’t look like much on a map, but that is a serious distance to aim for.”

  “I’ve never heard a call from him since then although I’ve had static a few times from the frequency we used. Marianne told me once that she had the same thing but no voice so we reckoned that his radio could be switched on and broadcasting from his boat.”

  “Are you suggesting that he might have had an accident, but the radio was left to transmit?”

  “Yes, but I’ve had so many theories I had to stop thinking about them.”

  “Well, my friend, I hope we get some good news about Jacob in forty-hours.”

  “Thanks, Cherry.” He paused. “How is it going with the studies?”

  “It’s not too difficult to understand now, but I have to be confident just in case I’m chosen to go on the big mission.”

  “Unless you break a limb in the next two weeks I’m pretty confident you’ll be on the team.” He briefly touched her arm, and was still laughing as he left the Control Room.

  Marie stepped back to look at her handiwork and that of Archie the ex-plumbing engineer. “Archie, I think we’ve got something worthwhile going on here.”

  The big man stepped back and wiped his hands together to brush off loose earth. “Well, if I can stand up in there it will take anybody else in the community. The main thing will be how much height is lost when the turf bricks settle, I suppose.”

  “We shouldn’t lose much, and if we take it slightly over your height, then that will be a good guide even if it sinks slightly.” Marie stepped forward and inside the construction. “The stone chips and railway sleepers we laid as a foundation for the turf walls will offer stability. If we were to estimate that it sunk about the width of two turf bricks, it would still be a reasonable height.”

  “It’s got a small entrance and small window gaps so it’s pretty much as the ancient mud huts or cottages might have been built. We have to remember that the design we’re aiming for is to provide basic shelter from the elements—we’re not out to win prizes for housing development.”

  “Okay, but I insist that we keep trying to improve with each one.” Marie laughed and was reminded of why she liked working with the big man. She’d learned through the many hardships the community had shared that a sense of humour was one of the most potent tools in anybody’s box.

  “Shall we mark out the base area for the next one and then call it a day?”

  “Yes,” Marie said. “It looks like our turf-cutting team are on the way with the next pile of earthen bricks for us.”

  “We can put them inside this shelter and use them to start work tomorrow.”

  “Good enough. I’ll let you tell Craig, Tracey and Louise that they can stop after they’ve dropped off their load.”

  Sandy paused and squatted low in the undergrowth, knowing that his companion a few metres behind him would do likewise and remain on high alert. Sandy glanced back to make eye-contact with Flint. The front man pointed to the ground and made a circular motion with his hand.

  Flint nodded, understanding that if they were involved in a contact or split up for any reason, then this was the point they would return to meet up. He saw Sandy reach out and scrape a small piece of bark from a nearby tree. It wasn’t much of a guide, but it would be enough.

  Five minutes later, the pair were several metres away and heading north once again. They arrived close to the freshwater pond which Flint recognised from his previous patrols through the forest. When Sandy stopped two metres away from the water, he was joined by Flint, both men surveying the undergrowth and trees in the vicinity.

  Sandy whispered, “Whoever it is, is shadowing us. When I gave you the regroup sign back there, it was where the tracks stopped. We’ve been led to this area, so I don’t want to go too close. We’ll skirt around the pond and continue north.”

  “You drop back, and I’ll take the point for a while.”

  Sandy nodded. “Okay, but stop if you see tracks again or if you feel the strain.”

  Flint moved to the right a few metres to go wide around the pond, but before he headed north, he moved across in line with the north side of the pond. Two clear sets of prints; one set large and one set small. Before moving out, he paused and pointed at the ground. He held up two fingers, closed his fist and then used two fingers again to demonstrate a walking motion. He left the place and paused several times over a few minutes to ensure that Sandy was safely on the move.

  Flint came across clear signs that at least one adult human hand negotiated the hill, and recently. Small broken branches and twisted or upturned leaves were in evidence along with depressions in soft soil and freshly broken twigs.

  A combination of professionalism, apprehension and respect for the adversary were the ingredients which made him dive to the ground. A hiss was followed by a light tap—Flint half-turned from the prone position he’d adopted. An arrow was embedded in the silver birch which he’d been squatted beside a few seconds earlier to clarify the signs of possible back-tracking. He turned and scanned the areas between the trees, but there were dense undergrowth and bushes all around.

  A small clearing, and a lone tree, Flint thought—a perfect ambush site for an assassin. He’d slipped up.

  Sandy crawled forward but stayed an arm’s length from his friend. “You okay, mate?”

  “Yeah, mate, but she’s just signed two fucking death warrants.”

  “What did you find?”

  “Signs of backtracking, but clear enough that one of us would stop to look closer.”

  “We’ll crawl for a few minutes. Move out.”

  Working through the undergrowth while adopting the leopard crawl technique was
slow and tiring, but to do so while moving uphill and remaining alert was seriously demanding. Ten minutes later, the soldiers got to their feet to continue their task.

  It was two hours later, after working steadily uphill through the forest when the men arrived at an intriguing sight. It was a cave a short distance away, which had an easily accessible entrance but it was one of a pair. A few metres to the left was another cave. The second one wasn’t as big and appeared to have a large bush growing immediately in front, which effectively blocked any entry.

  Sandy whispered, “Follow me in but watch our backs.”

  Flint nodded.

  Before moving forward, Sandy used his hunting knife to quietly slice a branch from a bush, ensuring that it had a few leaves attached. He crept up to the clear area near the cave but didn’t go in. For a few seconds, he looked carefully at the loose earth around the entrance. Footprints, both large and small, were easily seen from entry and exit markings.

  Sandy reached out and lightly brushed the area close to the entrance. Near the centre and slightly forward of the entry his efforts were rewarded. Part of an almost straight thin line was uncovered. He moved his branch along and dusted more of the sand to find that the thin cord or growth continued across the entire front area. He turned and nudged Flint before pointing out the anomaly.

  Flint nodded and turned to look around them again, now more suspicious than previously. He waited until Sandy had carefully stepped over the thin material which had been buried in the loose earth and sand.

  When they were both within the cave entrance, Flint remained facing outward, still crouching to maintain defence. Sandy went forward, achieving full height as he went deeper into the cave. He was gone for several minutes, and though he was quiet, an occasional whispered curse was an assurance that he was nearby. He returned to Flint and handed him the small flashlight he’d been using.

  “Take five minutes to remember what you can,” Sandy said, “and then we’re getting the fuck out of here.”

  Flint detected an edge in his friend’s tone but accepted the flashlight and the order to go and check things out. Five minutes later, he tapped Sandy on the shoulder and handed back the torch. “Ready … have you got the note?”

  Sandy nodded, retrieved the note from his pocket and left it on the ground with a small rock on top to ensure a breeze didn’t blow it away. This was one of Bill’s suggested amendments—the note to establish communication was left behind on this first trip, not delayed until the second.

  As they moved forward and were about to leave the cave, Flint tapped his companion on the shoulder and pointed at the partially buried vine or cordage. “And look to the front … two to three metres within the foliage.”

  “Fuck,” Sandy murmured. “Let’s go, mate, and we’ll go back via the pond.”

  Bill was sitting out on the patio, chatting with Fiona when the two soldiers arrived back late in the evening. Bill had been using binoculars to watch for their re-appearance.

  Fiona stood. “It’s nice to see you guys back safely. I take it you’ll want to brief this man before you eat or clean up?” She indicated her partner with a nod and a smile.

  “Yes,” Sandy said, “it’s better to pass on information when it’s fresh in mind.”

  “Any preference for tea?”

  “Hot and wet, please,” Sandy said.

  “Likewise, please, Fiona,” Flint said.

  Fiona was the only other person aware of the real reason behind the mission. She was also aware that it was better not to know any details unless they were being made public. She left the men to their discussion and went to fetch hot drinks for them.

  “Don’t speak until you’ve got a drink.” Bill’s mind flashed back. He’d known many instances where he’d been as relieved as his two companions. They sat with him in relative comfort and lay their rifles down. The experiences of their patrol continued to play back. It was akin to being on a long drive and still seeing the white lines moving on the road long after the vehicle had stopped.

  “Three hot mint teas,” Fiona announced as she returned. “I’ll leave you to it, and I’ll pull the door almost closed.”

  “Thanks,” the three men echoed as they took mugs from the tray.

  Unlike Bill, who placed his mug on the ground to let the tea suffuse, both Sandy and Flint took a sip immediately.

  “Mission accomplished?” Bill said.

  Sandy nodded. “Outward, we made good time crossing the open area to the forest.” He related the method they used once under cover of the trees and how they’d taken turns in the lead as they went downhill and south towards the banks of the loch.

  Flint said, “The only signs of life on the way in and down to the loch were: deer, rabbit, badger and fox.”

  “No wolf prints?” Bill said.

  “No,” Sandy said. “If they hunt in there it’s probably farther in and beyond the freshwater pond. It suggests to me that there is most likely another pond or two in the depths of the forest. Even a wolf needs to drink.”

  “Did the lochside produce any results?”

  “Yes,” Sandy said, “that was our first sign.” He went on to explain about the two sizes of prints and how they appeared to be covered, possibly by moccasin-type footwear. The smaller person’s freedom to wander around got a nod from Bill as he listened to the details.

  Sandy and Flint explained how they’d taken time for their break at that location and how there was the faintest hint of perspiration at one point.

  “What are your thoughts on that?” Bill said.

  Flint said, “Whoever is in there was not only aware of us but probably recognised that we knew our shit when it came to tracking.”

  “I see it the same way,” Sandy said. “Somebody was getting close and upwind simply to let us know that they were there.”

  “No confirmed sightings?”

  “Not a sighting, but a contact,” Flint murmured.

  Sandy said. “It was like tracking a bloody ghost.”

  Flint said, “There was a definite sense of being observed before we set off uphill from the loch.”

  Sandy sipped his tea, appreciating the stronger, refreshing taste. He explained how they panned out and found tracks leaving the loch to go up into the forest and onward to the steeper gradients.

  Bill listened and digested every word, easily able to understand how tiring the patrol must have been. For a team of four trained personnel, it would have been stressful, but for a two-man team, the pressure was immense. For a moment he was reminded of tracking with a female colleague known in his team as Hiawatha—because she was the best tracker in the unit. She was the sort of soldier not easily forgotten.

  Bill said, “Tell me about the contact.”

  Flint said, “The tension was ramped up when I realised the person was back-tracking.”

  “Was it fairly obvious?” Bill said.

  “Yes,” Flint said, “which was what made it more worrying and was almost my undoing. Instead of the classic track which stops dead with clear prints suddenly going nowhere, there were a couple of prints which looked like the person was on the balls of their feet and then nothing.”

  Bill nodded, “Almost as if they had leapt into a tree and performed like Tarzan for a while?”

  “Yes,” Flint said, “except there was only one tree within about two metres of the final prints. If it’s that crazy woman, she was fucking around with us up until then, Bill. I think if one of us had been in there alone, we wouldn’t be here to talk about the trip.”

  “Go on, mate.”

  “When I saw the clear prints, I crouched to take a closer look and a sixth sense told me it was all too easy—it was wrong. I hit the deck, and a fucking arrow hit the tree beside me—the only tree nearby.”

  “It sounds like the painted wall or the gap idea that was sometimes used by snipers or assassins. They wouldn’t see anything from their firing position except the distant gap or white patch of wall, so when it became blocked it would b
e the target.”

  “I remember reading about that years ago,” Sandy said. “Something tells me that this Patsy woman isn’t interested in talking to us.”

  Bill nodded. “It looks like she’s made dangerous enemies of you guys.”

  Flint said, “You’ll fully understand her mentality when we get to the end of our report.”

  Sandy related how they’d paused slightly before the freshwater pond and then gone wide around it to pick up fresh signs. He told of the long and arduous climb uphill as far as the caves.

  Bill nodded. “How many caves were there?”

  “We saw two,” Sandy said, “and again, it wasn’t a scenario I’d have expected outside of a war-zone.” He sipped more tea. “The first cave was fairly obvious and open to exploration, so we entered but only after stepping over the tripwire.”

  “Describe it, please, mate.”

  “It was a strong, creeping plant which had the leaves and stems shaved off and it was covered by a light layer of earth and sand, but it travelled across the front of the cave entrance for a few metres to both sides. Notably, it disappeared behind the bush at the mouth of the second cave.”

  “Okay, how far did the other end go?”

  “Two metres, and it was rerouted around a small tree before going down into the trees opposite the cave entrance.” Sandy paused. “If we were being watched, it must have been obvious that only one of us would have been caught in the trap, so I pointed it out to Flint and then we both went inside the cave.”

  “Good thinking,” Bill said, “so I take it you moved separately to get inside quickly?”

  “Yes, and then Flint guarded the entrance while I investigated inside. When I’d seen enough, I came back to let Flint have a look. We decided that rather than push our luck with the second cave, we’d just get away from there—it had to be protected too. At the entrance to the cave we’d checked, we left the note under a small rock, but before setting off again, my mate here indicated the booby trap.”

  Bill turned to Flint. “How did you spot it?”