by John Murphy
In the distance was their goal for the first day, a range of jagged black mountains. Before them was an expansive plain with standing water from the downpour.
They reached the edge of a lake that was about a mile wide, and that stretched into the distance to the left. To the right, the lake disappeared along the canyon. As they approached the water’s edge, their feet sank into muddy silt, making their progress strenuous.
“The nav tablet says we go straight across there. There’s nothing that indicates a body of water on the map. I’m sure this is from the rainfall, but otherwise it’s likely dry,” Mitchell said.
“How deep is it?” Sowell asked.
“According to the map, this is supposed to be entirely flat, no elevation change whatsoever.”
Kerrington looked at the nav tablet as Mitchell pointed out the features. “These lines represent elevation changes at intervals of ten feet. Here we are just inside this line, and it’s entirely flat between here and here.”
“How far is it across?” Kerrington asked.
“It’s…” Mitchell touched points on the map, drawing a line to their destination. “One point three miles.”
“How deep?”
“Again, it doesn’t show any elevation change greater than ten feet. So all I can say is that it’s likely to be no more than ten feet deep.”
“That’s a little too deep,” Sowell said.
“It may be far less, for all this can tell us,” Mitchell said. “It might only be five feet—or six inches.”
“How far around?” Kerrington asked.
Mitchell touched more points, drawing lines near the last elevation marker. “Sixteen miles.”
“That’s about four hours,” Kerrington said.
“That’s under the best conditions,” Sowell added. “Walking in this muck is going to take a lot longer. It’s probably more like five hours, maybe more.”
“What about the other way?” Kerrington asked.
Mitchell traced out lines that lead back toward the canyon edge, not far from where they crossed the copper bridge. “It’s ten miles that way, but you can see there’s a sudden drop in elevation here. That’s probably where all this water drops into the canyon, making it very likely impassible.”
“A waterfall,” Tucker said.
They looked out at the expanse of still water.
“What if we move to higher ground?” Kerrington suggested.
Mitchell shook her head. “Following this elevation line around, you can see that it bunches up around the north end, which indicates steep slopes and cliffs. It would be very rugged going. That’d slow us down, too.”
“Twenty minutes across, or five hours around,” Sowell murmured.
Mitchell shrugged. “It looks like the water is receding, so that may shave some time off if we circumnavigate.”
“If we cut corners, we’d be cutting through mud,” Sowell said.
Killian removed his helmet and pack and began unbuckling his armor.
Kerrington turned to him. “Killian? What are you doing?”
“I’m gonna see how deep this is. If I make it across, you guys can follow.”
“Why are you taking your gear off?” Tucker asked.
“The pack will float,” Killian said. “I don’t know how waterproof the electronics in this armor are, so I’ll stack it on top.”
“We don’t know how deep that is,” Kerrington protested. “Or what creatures might be lurking beneath the surface.”
“We’ll know in a few minutes,” Killian replied. “If it gets deep, I’ll swim it.”
Kerrington looked around at the group. “It’s probably safer to go around than swim it.”
“We’re talking five hours,” Sowell said. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Can everybody swim?” Kerrington asked.
Everyone nodded.
Benson took off his pack. “I’ll go, too.”
“Wait! I haven’t given the directions,” Kerrington said.
“Direct away,” Killian said. “I’ll see you on the other side.” He removed everything except his supraskin bottoms and footies. He put his rifle on “safe,” then affixed it to the locking mechanism on his pack and stacked his armor and helmet on top. Finally, he put his supraskin shirt across the top of his armor and helmet, and used the sleeves to tie it down.
Benson did the same. They hefted their packs over their heads and waded into the water.
* * *
The silt on the bottom slowed their pace. Each step required them to pull their feet out of the muck. Luckily, the curvature of their feet prevented the extreme suction that stiff boots would have created. The water remained ankle deep until Killian and Benson were several hundred yards out. They looked back intermittently to gauge their progress.
As the water reached their thighs, the silt became less dense, and they were able to float their packs, making the going less awkward. The rain had been cool, but the desert surface warm, resulting in soft swirls of changing temperature.
Benson broke the silence. “That was pretty freaky, what you did back there with Pima.”
Killian ignored him.
“I mean, we were all pretty scared, like you were gonna knife her or something. I think it freaked everybody out.”
“That was not my intent,” Killian said, staring ahead.
“I think they think you’re kind of crazy. Like some kind of scary street killer or something. Not me, though. I mean, I didn’t think you’d really kill Pima. And I have to admit, we are moving pretty fast without her. Too bad Carmen bailed. She seemed pretty nice.”
Killian glanced at Benson but said nothing.
“I mean, well, nice like a person, like out in the civilian world. She said she was into sports, and I can see how she’d be big on teamwork. But sports teams, you know. I suppose she’s too nice for Black Saber. It’s probably a good thing she opted out, for her own sake—and probably for this Black Saber shit, too.”
“A true moto-leader,” Killian said.
“Yeah, I can see how she’d do well in basic.”
They sloshed in silence for a few moments. Benson squinted back toward the canyon. “I hope they’re okay and everything.”
Killian glanced at him again. “They’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I mean, they’re probably lying around sleeping. I kinda wish I was the one to stay behind. This hiking shit is kicking my ass, ya know? I think about what you did to Pima—I mean, not to her, but to her oxygen tube, and I was thinking like maybe—I was thinking that’d be a cool excuse to get outta doing Black Saber, ya know.”
Killian took a long look at Benson. “You want out of Black Saber?”
“Well, no, I don’t—not really. I mean, I do, when I think about how there’s gonna be more of this kind of shit—even worse, if we do get into Black Saber. This is a pain in the ass already, and the only thing I can think about is being in Pima’s shoes.”
“So why are you even here?”
Benson smiled. “Ah, now there’s the question of the hour—or seventy-two hours, right?” He looked down. “The answer is—I really don’t know. I mean, I dig the whole Black Saber sort of image and all. But the getting there kind of sucks. And, like I said, it’s only going to get worse from here.”
“Truth time, dickhead,” Killian said. “Why are you here?”
“Yeah, truth…Veritas! Ha, ha! Yeah, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Well, the truth really is I didn’t want to do this. But I’m from a long line of military types, like generals and shit. It seems all my life I’ve been in the military, or at least had to put up with this kind of military shit. But I never wanted to do the military. When I was picking compulsory service options, it’s like I didn’t really have a choice. I can’t imagine telling my old man I was going into
the Homeless Care Ministry. He’d shit a bird, for sure. So I went along, because that’s what they expected. And if he learned that I had been selected for Black Saber and turned it down…”
Killian stared incredulously. “You took the hardest path so your father wouldn’t get mad?”
Benson sighed. “Mad would be an understatement. He’d kill me. But, well, yeah. It kind of looks that way, doesn’t it? It would have been hell on me. The idea of being this elite kind of soldier dude would finally make him proud of me, you know? But now that I’m here it’s kind of like this really sucks, and I was thinking maybe I’d be better off telling my folks I tried, but I didn’t quite make it, and not because I quit, you know.”
Killian pondered this for a while. “So you want me to cut your oxygen tube, so you can opt out without opting out?”
Benson looked at him excitedly. “Yeah, well, it’s not like it’s fatal, or even dangerous, you know? I just get disqualified because of a mishap in training!”
“And you figure everyone thinks I’m a dangerous nutjob, and you’d deny that you asked me to do this.”
“Yes! Exactly!”
“Well, Benson, the problem is, I really do want to get into Black Saber, and I only did that to Pima because she was a liability to the mission. I didn’t harm her in any way. I merely took her out of the equation to eliminate the problem.”
“Hey! I’ll totally back you up on that, man! You can do the same thing with me. I’ll fake a twisted ankle and everything. I’ll totally back you up!”
Killian looked forward again. “Not a chance, Benson. I’m not here to get you off the hook with your old man. I’ve got too much to lose.”
“Is your old man a military type?”
“No. He’s deceased,” Killian said.
“Oh, yeah. You told us. Car accident, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“So what do you have to lose?”
“More than I can explain to you.”
Benson’s eyes widened with interest.
* * *
The water deepened, climbing up to their chests. Because of their packs’ buoyancy, Killian and Benson sank less into the silt. Behind them on shore, the other candidates had become little more than colorful smudges against the landscape.
“I can feel a current,” Benson said.
Killian nodded. A gentle pressure pushed against his left side, and eddies swirled to his right. “Yeah. If it gets any deeper, we’ll have to swim.”
“But won’t we go with the current?”
“Very likely, so we’ll move laterally. But it’ll get shallower as we reach the other side. We’re almost there.”
The water got so deep they could no longer keep any weight on their feet. They swam a sidestroke, tugging their packs behind them. Looking at the far shoreline, they perceived their lateral movement. Subtle ripples in the water’s surface indicated an increase in the current’s speed. The water was chilled, as it hadn’t had time to take on the desert’s heat.
They swam for several hundred feet before they could get their footing again in the chest-deep water. They still felt the current, but they were able to resist its force. Within minutes, they were in waist-deep water and making quick progress to the far side.
They waved to the rest of the candidates. The others had already started their crossing.
Killian and Benson carried their packs the last few hundred yards and put them down on the driest mud they could find. They had drifted around a quarter of a mile laterally toward the canyon.
“That worked pretty well,” Benson said.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” Killian said, watching the others intently.
“Well, it saved a shitload of time,” Benson said.
Killian continued to watch, concerned.
“What’s up, man?”
“We’re taller,” Killian said.
“Yeah, so?”
“The shorter ones will be affected by the current sooner. That means more lateral drift.”
“Huh,” Benson grunted.
The other candidates dipped lower into the water. Sowell, Tucker, Vasquez, and Spalding were out in front. Goreman and Mitchell lagged behind. Kerrington and Dohrn were farther behind, already swimming. The current created a larger and larger gap.
“Looks like they’re drifting,” Benson said.
“Yeah, I think too much.”
CHAPTER 17
KILLIAN HOPPED THROUGH knee-deep water toward the group, his feet sinking into the mud.
“Make sure the others get to the shore,” he called back to Benson.
The taller candidates reached the shallow side. They watched him curiously. “Get your gear on shore!” he called to them.
Mitchell, Kerrington, and Dohrn were drifting more rapidly. The current drew them apart, and Killian’s eyes instinctively focused on Mitchell. He thought of Felicia. It seemed like months since he’d thought of her.
When the water was up to Killian’s thighs, he dove in and began swimming. It took a few minutes before he reached Mitchell. Killian checked the depth with his feet. He couldn’t touch the bottom. He was moving swiftly, but he was flowing along with Mitchell.
In the distance, Kerrington and Dohrn struggled to swim forward.
“Can you swim to the shore?” he called to Mitchell.
“I can’t…I can’t make it,” she gasped, spitting water, her eyes wide with alarm.
He grabbed her arm and drew her close. He turned her on her back and reached under her arm and across her chest, planting his hand on her other shoulder.
“Relax for a minute and catch your breath,” he said. Her head fell to rest on his shoulder, her forehead touching his cheek. She felt warm in every place they touched. Despite the cool water, he could smell her skin on the side of her face. It smelled neither bad, like body odor, nor overly good, like perfume. Just skin, soft but firm flesh.
Besides the inane sparring and grappling in basic training, he hadn’t touched another human being in what felt like forever. It was strange to breach someone’s personal space like this—not to mention pleasant. To his surprise, she didn’t dissolve and blow away in the breeze.
“Hold on to your gear. I’ll get you ashore,” he said.
“The canyon! We’re heading toward the falls!”
“I know. The current is moving faster,” Killian said.
Killian began a sidestroke while holding her, which was unbelievably harder than simply toting the pack. In a moment, they heard splashing behind them. Sowell and Vasquez swam toward them. They had given their gear to Spalding and Tucker to bring ashore.
“Take Mitchell,” Killian shouted. “Get her to shallow water.”
Killian handed Mitchell off to Sowell. Killian drifted for a few moments as Sowell carried her away. His flesh felt cold in the water where he had touched her warmth, and he felt a sense of loss.
“We’ve got to get the others,” Vasquez said as he splashed past. Killian shook off his distraction and caught up.
They made quick progress toward Kerrington, who was showing signs of exhaustion.
“I can make it,” Kerrington gasped, his voice hoarse and weak.
“Vasquez, get Kerrington. I’ll get Dohrn,” Killian said.
“No! I’ll get her,” Vasquez said, then swam rapidly along with the current.
Killian drifted a moment alongside Kerrington, watching him struggle, hesitant to help.
“Let me take your gear,” Killian said, not waiting for Kerrington to agree. “Can you swim by yourself?”
“Yeah, I got this,” Kerrington said, now free to use both arms to swim.
The current was moving faster. They could hear the sound of water rushing into the gorge. Dohrn was in full struggle, unable to keep her head above water. She clutched furiously at her pack. It turned ov
er.
Killian towed Kerrington’s gear. The ride got bumpy as rocks beneath the surface diverted the flow, making the water choppy. Despite their efforts, they appeared to be moving away from the shore as the current changed direction toward the canyon.
They heard more splashing behind them. It was Tucker. He had the rope slung around his shoulder.
Killian and Kerrington drifted for a moment. “Tucker, give me the rope and take Kerrington to shallow water,” Killian said.
“Naw, man. I can do this. I’ll help Vasquez.”
“No, Tucker. This was my bad idea. Let me help them.”
“I got this, man. Swim team in high school. This ain’t a problem for me.” Indeed, Tucker wasn’t breathing nearly as heavily as Killian.
“Let him do it, Killian,” Kerrington said. “He’s a stronger swimmer.”
“All right, but hurry,” Killian said. “Vasquez is already tired from carrying Pima.”
Tucker sped off.
Kerrington and Killian finally reached shallow water. They turned and watched as Vasquez caught Dohrn, who was flailing. Tucker approached them and they exchanged the rope. Tucker continued on to retrieve Dohrn’s pack and then returned to the other two. As they continued to drift into heavier rapids, Tucker and Vasquez wrapped the rope around Dohrn, then tied the two ends around their waists. Tucker and Vasquez began swimming, towing Dohrn and her gear behind them.
As the trio neared the shore, the current flowed faster, and it looked as if they weren’t making any progress at all. They paused and drifted, then began swimming along with the current while cutting across. It took them closer and closer to the roaring falls.
Finally, they reached water shallow enough for Tucker and Vasquez to stand in. They pulled the rope and brought Dohrn in. When they were safe, they slogged through the water back toward the rest of the group.
“You were right, Killian,” Kerrington said, struggling to catch his breath. “That was a bad idea. We could have died because of your stunt.” He grabbed his floating pack from Killian and headed to join the others on the shore.
Killian watched him wade away, then turned his attention back to Tucker, Vasquez, and Dohrn. Killian felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders. He felt foolish standing there helping no one.
