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

He recounted what had happened to himself and the soldiers that day, starting with the failed rescue of Doctor Semyonov.

In disbelief, Callum looked to Darya. She and Ava were crouched together at the base of a rock formation. Ava’s face was drained of all colour. Darya’s was pale but stoical as she continued to comfort her.

“What about the other helicopter?”

“It is also gone. It was on the Albanov.”

“So, what? We’re really stranded here?”

“For now,” Lungkaju said. “But now that communication has been lost with the mainland they will know that there is an emergency and they will send a rescue team.”

“And how long will that take? Hours? Days?”

“I do not know.” He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Starshyna Koikov says that it could be weeks.”

Ava screamed out suddenly and dropped her face into her hands. Her pale skin had turned a disturbing shade of grey and her tears bled out through the gaps between her fingers.

Lungkaju walked across to her. “Please, Doctor Lee,” he said, placing a hand gently on top of her head, “I know that this is a shock, but you must try and be quiet.”

She knocked his arm away. “No, to hell with being quiet! What the hell’s the point of being quiet? We’re all dead anyway! We’re trapped on here with no way off and there are things and oh, Jesus, Jesus, what the hell are we going to do now?”

“It is okay, Doctor Lee,” Lungkaju persisted. “We will meet up with Starshyna Koikov’s team. They have weapons and ammunition. We will be safe with them.”

“And where do we meet up with them?” Darya asked.

“There is the old military compound in the south-west of the island. Starshyna Koikov told me to meet him there. We will have shelter. There might be an old radio and together we will be safe.”

“The south-west?” Darya said. “But, Lungkaju, we are in the east. It will take us a day just to walk there.”

Having surveyed much of the southern part of the island himself, Callum knew that she was right. It would take them a day’s walking at a good pace to reach the compound, and the state Ava was in, a good pace would be asking a lot.

“I know this,” Lungkaju replied. “But there is nothing else for us. We must try.”

For several minutes the only sound was that of Ava’s continued sobbing, as the four of them tried to get their heads around the situation and contemplate the task ahead. On his haunches beside Lungkaju, even Fenris seemed to sense the gravity of their circumstances, and he kept quiet and still.

The silence was broken suddenly by the sound of Ava pulling herself to her feet. With Darya steadying her, she wiped at her eyes and took a deep breath. “So what are we waiting for? The sooner we get there, the sooner we get safe, right? So let’s get the hell out of here.”

The others stared at her briefly, as if waiting for a punchline. Her skin retained its pallor, her eyes were red and her cheeks still wet. But her jaw was set firmly and it was clear she meant business.

“She is right,” Lungkaju said, seizing the new momentum. “We should begin. I still have my emergency equipment, so we can pitch a tent when we need to rest.” He turned to Callum. “We have the only rifles, so one of us should go first, the other at the back.”

“I’d rather go ahead,” Callum replied. “But you’re the one who knows where we’re going, so it should probably be you.”

Lungkaju nodded. “You will need to be very careful at the back, because there is nobody to watch for you.”

“Tail end Charlie, I know.” Callum rolled his lips. “Let’s do it. I’m not sure whether my life expectancy could get any lower anyway.”

Lungkaju reached out his hand and the two men shook.

Callum went to release his grip, then retightened it at the last second. “Just one question.”

Lungkaju waited, reasserting his own grip.

“How did you know that we were out here in the first place?”

“I did not,” he beamed. “It was Fenris that knew you were alive, my friend. I just followed his nose.”

* * *

Ptarmigan threw open the Centaur’s main hatch and looked around. He was inside a large, natural inlet, concealed from the coast by a barrier of rock. An opening had eroded some fifty feet or so up, allowing daylight to pour down into the interior. A substantial seal colony was sprawled around the rocks lining the cavern’s walls. Their cacophony of barks merged into one deafening echo, and their stink hung thick in the unexpectedly warm air.

Something glimmered towards the back of the cavern. Ptarmigan could see that it was a small, white vessel of some kind, moored up next to a stone ledge. As he ran his eye up and along the ledge, something else caught his attention. From amongst the shadows, a tiny spec of red appeared, darting upwards and intensifying briefly before returning to its original position. He could tell immediately that it was the end of a cigarette.

Without bothering to resecure the hatch, Ptarmigan dropped back into the cabin and manoeuvred the Centaur to rest beside the other craft. It was a second submersible. It was smaller than the Centaur, probably only one, two-occupant capacity tops. He knew that technologically it was unlikely to be the Centaur’s equal, or anywhere close. But it looked otherwise sleek and advanced.

He used the pincers to anchor the Centaur loosely to the natural harbour wall, powered down and climbed out. The tumble of rocks which greeted him formed a convenient, if unstable, stairway up to the ledge.

“Thank God you’re here,” he said, scrabbling to the top. “I’d been kidding myself that you were gonna stand me up.”

The contact said nothing but remained in the shadows and took another drag on his cigarette. Unnerved but not deterred by the silence, Ptarmigan tried again. “So Finback sent you to meet me, huh?”

This time