Colony by Benjamin Cross (best way to read books .TXT) 📕

“The sea smoke is very thick,” Lungkaju had informed him, his knowing grin barely visible through the murk. “Sometimes it will not clear for many hours, sometimes days.”

When the sky was clear, the two men walked in single file, pitching snippets of conversation at each other, lost in their respective tasks. Lungkaju kept to the rear, rifle cradled in his arms, scanning for tell-tale bear tracks and scat. Callum recorded the predicted lack of archaeology in his field journal, stopping every so often to take photographs and to try to puzzle out their precise location with the help of his increasingly temperamental GPS tablet. It was tough going, physically and mentally. Only Fenris seemed free to enjoy the island, disappearing for hours at a time, reappearing with gifts of mouth-sized boulder for Lungkaju before vanishing back among the outcrops.

By midday they had picked their way down into a valley. Where the ice had relaxed its grip, moss flourished; it carpeted the valley bottom, toupees of spongy green fibre stitched to the head of every boulder. Tufts of buttercup sprouted in between, as did other red and purple blooms that would have looked more at home in the meadows of the Scottish Lowlands. It was just as Darya had insisted that first evening at dinner. The abundance of life in such an extreme environment was extraordinary. While Callum needed insulated clothing, sun cream and shades, the daintiest of flowers simply shook their heads at him and thrived.

Lungkaju drew to a stop and lowered the rucksack from his shoulders. “Let us eat.”

Callum gladly shed his pack and sat down next to him. As he reached for his water bottle he felt his emergency locator slip down his wrist. He shook his head and fumbled through his jacket sleeve to tighten the strap. Only two weeks in, and the island had already taken half a stone from him, not to mention his foot blisters, which had made him a regular in the infirmary.

Lungkaju leant his rifle down and hollered out for Fenris.

“Don’t you worry about him getting lost?” Callum asked.

“It is us that I am more worried about,” Lungkaju answered, “me and you, not Fenris.” He took a swig from his flask. “Do you have any pets, Doctor Ross?”

“Does an ex-wife count?”

Lungkaju laughed. “You were married?”

Callum poured himself some soup. “I was. We were together for ten years.”

“And then you did not love her anymore?”

“Oh, I loved her alright. I loved her more than anything. Only thing was, she didn’t love me. I mean, she stopped loving me.”

“That is very sad.”

“My fault,” Callum said. “I could see it coming. My career was taking off. I was spending more and more time in the department. Less and less at home. She kept telling me that she was unhappy.”

Lungkaju took another swig from his flask and offered it over. “Why did you not listen?”

“I’ve asked myself the same question a thousand times,” Callum answered, accepting the flask. “Just young and foolish, I guess. Didn’t know what I had until I didn’t have it anymore.”

Lungkaju smiled, understanding.

“So, what about you? Are you married?”

“I was,” Lungkaju replied. “My wife died giving birth to our daughter.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We were married for sixteen years.”

“Happy years?”

“Happy years.”

They ate in silence for a while, Lungkaju picking the raisins from the tattered bits of malt loaf that seemed to be all that he ingested besides vodka.

“My daughter looks like her mother,” he said at last.

“My son’s got his mother’s temper,” Callum replied. “Otherwise he’s like a little version of me.”

Lungkaju stared at him as if trying to imagine such a thing. “What is his name?”

“Jamie. He’ll be nine in November.”

“My daughter will be fifteen next March.”

“You must miss her, working so far away.”

Lungkaju nodded. “I miss her very much. But I write her a letter every month. When I first came away I wrote every week, and emailed. But she told me to stop. She said that one week left me nothing to say.” He grinned. “She said that I was boring after just one week.”

“I don’t see Jamie very often,” Callum said. “We talk online a lot, using webcams, but he’s right, it’s not the same. We were on holiday a couple of weeks ago. It was the first time I’d seen him properly for ages and he was so excited. I taught him how to skim stones.” He paused. “Then I had to leave him to come here.”

“He will forgive you, Doctor Ross. You have a good heart; I can tell because Fenris likes you and he does not like bad people.”

“I hope so.”

Lungkaju retrieved another slice of malt loaf from his rucksack. “Now, will you tell me something? What is to skim stones?”

There was a sudden scuffling sound beyond where they were sitting and in an instant Lungkaju was on his feet, rifle in hand.

Fenris trotted into the clearing.

“Where have you been?” Lungkaju said, relaxing his grip. “You have worried Doctor Ross.”

With a snort, the dog paced over, slumped down between the two of them and commenced chewing. Callum watched as he grasped one end of an off-white stick between his paws and gnawed at the other. With a loud snap, he crunched the tip off his new toy and dropped the broken end to the floor.

Callum’s eyes widened at the sight. Handing the flask back to Lungkaju, he got to his knees and leant slowly towards the dog. Fenris stopped his chewing and growled, his top lip quivering back to expose the first warning flashes of tooth.

“He thinks you want his stick,” Lungkaju said.

Without moving his gaze, Callum replied, “He’s right.”

There was a confused silence, before Lungkaju gave Fenris an order in Nganasan. The dog barked in protest. Then he sat back up, dropping the object from his massive jaws with a snort.

No sooner had the object hit the ground, than Callum had reached forward and grabbed it. His heart picked up as he wiped away the film of saliva and turned it again and again in his fingers.

“What