by C. R. Turner
I manage a tiny smile. I can’t imagine what a Canine Maximus on Amano meat would be like. Max is now on half rations as he shares his meals with Jade, although I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Jade seems to be regaining her strength. We finish our dinner and are lying in our swags when my Core-link starts beeping. I leap to my feet and run to the edge of the ridge.
I call out to Sam and Hawkins. “It’s Emerson.”
Hawkins grabs his Ashra and runs up to my position. Emerson’s shaved head and pale face appears as he struggles to climb up to our position on all fours, every movement as if he has lead weights tied around his wrists and ankles. I run down the ridge to help him.
Hawkins calls out, “Stinson.”
Emerson collapses as we reach him and exhales as though it’s his last breath. He doesn’t even have the energy to stand. Hawkins flings his Ashra over his shoulder and helps me get Emerson to his feet. Emerson’s muscular body is so heavy we’re still relying on him to take some of his own weight.
When we reach the camp, we lower Emerson to the ground. He’s barely conscious. I can’t believe he made it up that ridge as far as he did. I grab my paramedic’s backpack and squeeze the buckle on top. The two zippers down each side automatically open as the two halves splay apart. While the med-screen powers up, I pull out a bag of fluid, a cannula and line. Emerson is murmuring and swatting at the air with his hands.
“Can you hold his arms down?” I ask.
Sam kneels next to him and holds one of his arms down while Hawkins holds the other. Emerson’s muscular, veiny arms look like they belong to a monster, not a person. I recall Doctor Lister’s training: first palpate for a vein. I find a nice juicy straight one in the radial aspect of his wrist. After inserting the cannula and taping it in place, I connect the line, hand Hawkins the bag of fluid and he holds it up for me. The med-screen displays avatars of each of the team. I select Emerson’s, and all his details come up. Heart rate, one seventy. Hell, not good. I grab a vial of CM18, then flick to the next screen to find his weight – two hundred and twenty pounds – bloody hell! I get a syringe out, draw the correct dose for his weight and inject it into the port on his cannula. Sam and Hawkins no longer have to hold him down as he drifts.
“Will he be ok?” Hawkins asks.
“I think so,” I reply, instantly second guessing myself. “He just needs some rest and a chance for the CM18 to break down the toxins.”
I unfold a field post, drive it into the ground next to Emerson and hang his bag of fluid from it. I wrap him in a thermal blanket to keep him warm, then sit by his side. Waiting to see if Emerson’s condition improves is excruciating. I can understand what Doctor Lister was talking about when he said a paramedic’s life can be hard. If we make it out of here, the first thing I’ll be doing is completing my paramedic training. God, I hope I’ve done the right thing.
The sky’s a soft red with just a few scattered clouds. I feel like my body clock has stopped and I’m now always tired. Sam is already asleep when Hawkins pats me on the shoulder and heads to his swag. As Hawkins lies down, there’s a loud scream from the jungle. It’s so loud, birds take flight. Hawkins and I jump to our feet.
Sam sits up in her bed, startled. “What was that?”
“It sounds like Bradley,” Hawkins says.
I walk to the edge of the ridge and call out at the top of my lungs. “Stop eating the Amanos.”
There’s a few seconds of silence, then Bradley screams back. “You’re going to die.” That’s not the Bradley I know … he sounds mad, irrational. I turn around and see the look on Sam’s and Hawkins’ faces. I don’t think any of us are going to get any sleep.
I’m sitting by Emerson’s side, watching his eyes move around under his eyelids. The colour in his face has returned, which is a good sign. Sam brings me breakfast, then cuts off some razorback meat for Max and Jade, before packing it away. I think I probably only got an hour or two of sleep. I’d almost rather it would rain again, to block Daisuke out, if just for a short while.
Emerson wakes, sits up dazed and holds his head. “Where are we?”
Sam and Hawkins rush over.
“How you feeling, mate?” Hawkins asks.
“Like I’m about to throw up.” Emerson swallows hard. “What happened?”
“You don’t remember?” I ask.
“No. The last thing I remember was setting up camp … and something about roasting meat … but after that … it’s a blank.” Emerson frowns. “What happened?”
“I think it was the Amanos. It has some kind of toxin in it that releases a hallucinogenic compound when digested, giving people hallucinations and transient psychosis. I think that’s probably what happened to SF Mustang.” I pause before adding “You should try to eat something.”
“Wait … where’s the rest of the team?” Emerson asks.
Hawkins points at the jungle with his chin. “Out there.”
Emerson looks up at Hawkins with fear in his eyes. “I … I didn’t …”
Hawkins shakes his head. “No. They’re still out there.”
Hawkins and I lock eyes, and I wonder if we’ll ever make out of here alive.
Emerson pinches his eyes with his thumb and index figure. “What are their locations?”
I study my Core-link. “Bradley’s one mile out, and Pisano and Taylor are another five or so further back.”
“I hope it is Pisano and Taylor,” Sam says, “and not just one of them carrying two Core-links.”
In the lead, Hawkins slashes the jungle with his short-sword, while I lead Max with Emerson resting on his back. Sam leads Jade, with Falone’s and Smith’s body bags strapped to her saddle. The rest of the team’s supplies are split between the two canines. After the incidental poisoning by the Amanos, and seeing so many animals of the likes I’ve never seen before, I’m getting the impression we shouldn’t be here. Several hours later, the impossible jungle finally thins. We’re covered in scratches and bruises and when we come to a clearing, I don’t even have to ask to stop. Hawkins drops his gear and eyes me sideways as he catches his breath, the first chink in his armour.
Stage four – four miles down. After a short break, I’m lying on the ground next to Sam at the edge of a clearing, and just starting to doze off when there’s a loud rustle. I sit up. The trees are swaying, leaves falling from the canopy. Sam’s face is white, a picture of fear. We both leap to our feet.
“What was that?” I ask.
Wide-eyed, she just shakes her head.
“What was it?” I ask again.
“I don’t know,” Sam replies, panic in her voice.
Hawkins rushes over. “Was it Bradley?”
Sam shakes her head again. “It wasn’t human. I’ve never seen anything like it before. It was huge.”
I press Sam. “What did it look like?”
“I don’t know. I only caught a glimpse of it. It was dark and scaly.”
The trees settle and the area is quiet. “Look at that.” I point to the trunk of one of the trees where massive scratch marks – at least six inches long – are etched into the bark.
Hawkins studies the scratch marks. “We should keep moving. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover.”
As we get ready to move out, Emerson grabs his backpack and puts it on. “I can walk,” he assures me.
He’s looking his usual self, so I don’t argue.
“Stinson, you can take point,” Hawkins orders.
“Yes, sir.”
Hawkins helps me load Falone’s and Smith’s body bags onto Jade’s saddle. I feel bad for Jade having to carry their bodies, especially after the way we found her, but we can’t leave them behind. As I mount Max, there’s a loud scream from afar. Bradley. It sounds different though, more a scream of frustration than fear. I wonder if he’s stopped eating the Amanos and is coming to his senses.
Hawkins cups his hands either side of his mouth, and in a deep bellowing voice, calls out, “Bradley.”
We wait for a response. Silence.
When we get to a large rocky clearing, I decide to stop for a break. After about an hour, I’m about to get up and suggest we keep moving when my Core-link beeps. Bradley is five hundred or so feet away in the direction we’ve just come. He’s walking along the edge of the cliff face with his Ashra slung over his back. He hasn’t even seen us yet. I get up and walk toward him. His shoulders are slouched, and he’s taking small steps – a picture of exhaustion if ever I saw one.
The rest of the team run up behind me. Bradley notices us and stops. He drops to his knees and buries his face in his hands as if ashamed. I run to him. As I get closer, it occurs to me I should be careful. He has, after all, been under the effect of the Amanos, and he’s a striker force prime. I kneel in front of him, and when I put my hand on his shoulder, he flinches. It’s a huge relief he’s okay.
“I’m sorry … I failed you.”
I shake my head.
“What happened to Taylor and Pisano?” Bradley asks.
“They’re still tailing us,” Emerson replies.
Bradley looks out over the escarpment. A few tense seconds pass.
“Sir … you good?” Hawkins asks.
Bradley continues his stare.
“Yeah … I’m good Hawkins,” he replies, exhaling deeply.
When I remove my hand from his shoulder, I realise my hand is shaking. I hate seeing him like this.
Stage four – six miles down. I jump up on Max, and we all wait for Bradley’s order.
“Alright … let’s move out,” he calls with enthusiasm.
It’s good to have him back.
Bradley takes up his usual position behind me in the line. He seems back to his usual self. The man is one tough nut to bounce back from something like that without any help whatsoever. The steep trail hugs the sandstone cliff face as it descends to the valley floor. Max tentatively places a paw down only to find himself skidding on the loose rocks. The trail flattens out when we reach the bottom. I read my Core-link and find Pisano and Taylor’s position as they close in on us. Up ahead, there’s a narrow passageway between a large sandstone pillar and the cliff face. I wrench my neck up at the pillar and towering cliff face above as I pass between them. The area is in full shade with little to no vegetation. The foot of the cliff has been scalloped out by wind and rain, creating a striking array of colours and shapes.
“Stinson, hold up,” Emerson orders over the Core-link.
Emerson’s the last to pass through the narrow passageway. The team gather around as I dismount and lead Max over.
Emerson asks, “Sir, what made you follow us when you were under the effects of the Amanos?”
Bradley shakes his head and shrugs. He still looks cut up about falling victim to the Amanos.
“What’s the first thing that springs to mind?” Emerson asks.
Bradley answers. “Food. I don’t remember much of it, but I suspect in that state of mind your primal instinct would be to find food. And with Taylor’s backpack half filled with it, it’d be one hell of a magnet.”
Brow furrowed, narrow eyes scanning the area, Emerson nods in agreement. “Sir, I was thinking we could set up an ambush this side of the bottleneck … knock them out with our Ashras as they come down the trail.”
Bradley’s face lightens as he nods. “Yeah … well spotted, Emerson.”
Bradley looks back up the trail, through the narrow passageway, “Alright, everyone ensure your Core-links are deaf.”
There’s a chorus of “Pos, sir”, then Bradley adds, “Change your Core-link’s frequency to low band forty-five and turn your locator beacons off. Hawk, over-watch.”
“Pos, sir,” Hawkins replies, before taking off.
I can’t imagine what’s going through Bradley’s mind right now, as he sets up an ambush for his team members. Bradley and Emerson take up defensive positions as Sam and I lead the canines over to the scalloped-out foot of the cliff. Max lowers his head to the ground as he lies by Jade’s side and lets out a big sigh. Sam and I smile.
After about twenty minutes, I jump up, grab Taylor’s backpack that’s half filled with food and head over to Bradley. “What do think about putting out some bait?”
Bradley looks at the backpack, then presses his Core-link. “Hawk, any sign of them?”
“Neg, sir.”
Bradley gives me a nod. I walk back thirty or so feet up the rocky trail and place Taylor’s backpack to the side of the trail so it’s not such an obvious trap, then scurry back.
About an hour later, Hawkins’ voice comes over the Core-link. “Two contacts … two hundred feet and closing.”
Bradley’s reply is short. “Got ‘em on the Core-link.”
I jump up and run over to Emerson. Bradley double-checks his Ashra is set to stun, and Emerson follows suit. Taylor and Pisano come stumbling down the rocky trail toward Taylor’s backpack. Taylor has her Ashra in her hands as Pisano bends over and picks up the backpack. Have the effects of the Amanos worn off? Surely, if they were still under the full effects of the toxin, they would have killed each other by now?
Bradley and Emerson stare down the sights of their Ashras, looking like they’re ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Bradley partially steps out from behind his cover and hollers, “Drop it.”
Pisano grabs his Ashra and steps to Taylor’s side as they stare back.
“You drop it, sir,” Taylor bellows back. She stands her ground with pursed lips and steely eyes.
“I’m not going to ask you again, Taylor. Drop it,” Bradley orders.
Taylor dips the end of her Ashra. “Sir? Are you … you?”
Bradley half lowers his Ashra. “Yeah … you?”
Taylor and Pisano aim at the ground and exhale in unison. We warily edge out from behind our cover and pool together. I take a deep, stuttered breath.
“Sir, I’m sorry but something happened to us—”
Bradley holds up an open palm. “We know, Taylor. We think it was the Amanos. You have nothing to apologise for. We were affected by it as well.”
I ask Taylor, “How are you feeling?”
“Exhausted … starving … I think I was affected the worse. If it weren’t for Pisano incapacitating me with his Ashra and tying me up, I don’t know what would’ve happened. I don’t remember much of it, just what Pisano told me.”
Chapter 10
Stage five – zero miles down. Max and Jade are getting along really well and often settle near one another when we sleep. I coax Max away so I can saddle him while the rest of the team prepare to move out.
“Hey, Stocky. How far to the crash site?” Emerson calls out.
“What’s the matter muscles, tired?” Taylor steps in and punches Emerson hard in the ribs, with a cheeky smile.
Emerson’s face reflects Taylor’s jovial spirit. “I just want to get out of this jungle.”
“You need to hit the gym,” Taylor says as she reads her Core-link. “Twelve miles true, but we’re looking at another sixteen miles of walking.”
As they continue packing, I notice Bradley, his lifted mood. I admire them all for having the fortitude to get on with it, as though nothing’s going to get in the way of them completing their objective. Weaker men or women would have crumbled.
I lead Max back over to Sam and Jade.
“Do you think we’ll find Jade’s owner?” Sam asks.
“I don’t know. With how we found her … it doesn’t look good.”
“Do you think they’d let me keep her if we can’t find her owner?”
Unsure if they will even try to take Max away from me, I don’t want Sam to get her hopes up. “I don’t know. You’d have to wait for the right time to ask. It would be nice, but I’d expect they’d want her to go to a paramedic.”
We congregate around Bradley. “Hawkins has made contact with the RASB, and the Makri have yet to return. Keep your eyes peeled for any sign of SF Mustang. We have approximately sixteen miles of hiking to go and we’re all fatigued, so keep your fluids up and your minds on the job. Stinson, you take point. Emerson, you grab the tail.”
I mount and lead the way. With the team back together, it’s feeling like we may actually make it to the crash site.
As we leave the shade of the escarpment, the vegetation returns, and the trees are even larger, extending skyward for what looks like four hundred feet – by far the biggest trees I’ve ever seen. Everything is covered in moss or vines that seem to be strangling the life out of everything. Behind the veil of dark green foliage is a chorus of animal calls and occasionally the screeches of what sounds like a fight to the death.
I spot a strange small animal clinging to the trunk of a tree. The white and brown feathered animal has claws on its wings and legs, and a lizard-like head – it probably only weighs five or six pounds. Alongside it, are massive scratch marks in the bark. They must have been made by the same creature Sam saw earlier.
The animal leaps off the trunk and glides through the air, landing hard on another tree trunk, catching an insect in its mouth which is more than a mouthful. It chomps away until it can swallow its prey.
After an exhaustive seven-mile hike, we stop at a small clearing surrounded by rocky hills and massive trees. We’ve covered less ground in the past two stages combined than we did in stage one. Bradley and his team are the fittest people I’ve ever met, but they look as though they’re at the end of their tether. Sam’s amazing, matching step for step with SF Raptor.
A couple of Amanos are munching away on leaves. Their black-striped orange-brown fur and thin horns makes them so distinctive. I now understand why they’ve evolved without the need to camouflage themselves.
“No eating the wildlife,” Bradley calls out.
Hawkins and I laugh. I guess Taylor and Pisano will laugh one day, too.
As I unsaddle Max, I ask Sam, “How are you going?”
“Okay.”
