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

With a last glance down at Ngana’bta, Callum turned and set off back along the tunnel.

* * *

Even with the drums removed, the inside of the bunker still stank to hell and back of diesel. The temperature was a degree or two colder than it was outside and the only light came through the narrow, shoulder-height rifle slits on either side.

Koikov walked over to the east-facing slit and peered through. It was meant to be tight, designed to allow for defensive fire should the base ever come under attack. Could the dragons fit through it? He leant forward and pushed his head and one arm between the two tapering concrete lips. Maybe. But it would be a tight squeeze. That was fine. A tight squeeze would give plenty of time for a traditional Department V greeting.

Koikov pulled his collar up and paced the ten metres or so across the chamber. What a grim place this would be to die. He heaved open the door to the next chamber and walked through.

Central Chamber 2 lacked rifle slits. It was gloomy, dank and totally enclosed. In the corner lay the butt-end of a papirosa that he’d ditched last time he’d inspected the place. On that occasion, all he’d given a shit about had been how many barrels he could stack within its reinforced walls before heading back to the Albanov for a shower. This time couldn’t have been more different. He picked up the butt-end and pocketed it; where Koikov came from, you didn’t shit in your own bed.

He turned his attention to the escape hatch mounted centrally within the roof. A ladder was fixed to the wall of the cylindrical shaft, accessing the cap. He jumped up and grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder. He half-expected the fittings to pull loose from the wall, but they held, and he heaved himself up, hand over hand.

The release handle for the cap was stiff with disuse. After a struggle it juddered round and Koikov forced open the mushroom-like slab of iron, which squealed on its hinge before crashing back onto the rooftop. The smell of diesel was replaced by fresh air. The dark by light. Uncertain which he preferred, Koikov pushed his head up through the hatch and looked around.

A few hundred metres away, Privates Gergiev, Nazarov and Reznikoff were unloading barrels from the roof of the mechanical excavator. They were arranging them at approximate twenty-metre intervals, creating an outer perimeter, just as Koikov had ordered. Lifting his rifle, he peered through the sight and brought the crosshairs to rest over one of the barrels. With vision unhindered it was un-fucking-missable. But in the mist… He lowered the sight from his eye. Half of him hoped that they would never have to find out. The other half wanted nothing more than to fuck some dragons up.

He reclosed the hatch and continued through into Chamber 3.

6

The slope stretched ahead for several hundred metres before rounding into the coastal plain below. It would have been an awe-inspiring sight: the sub-oval basin of low ground ringed by a batter of foothills, the ocean lapping at its western edge. But there was no getting away from it. It looked like a monumental bite mark, as if a gigantic sea monster had risen up and bitten a chunk out of the island’s flank.

A number of other islands loomed on the far horizon. Callum held a hand above his eyes and squinted through the blinding sunlight. He could just make out the strokes of snow and ice on their peaks, their necks hung with wreaths of mist. He shivered.

In the centre of the plain below was the same ill-fitting arrangement of grey concrete that he had first spotted from the Kamov. He remembered the feeling of intense dislike, disappointment that the island wasn’t quite the virgin wilderness he’d envisaged. Then he laughed. Virtually overnight, the compound had transformed from eyesore to oasis.

Since leaving the tunnel, the group had walked in silence. Exhausted and overwhelmed, they had moved as quickly as Callum’s leg would allow them, fuelled by the thought that when they reached the compound they would be safe at last. It was an illusion; there was no such thing as safe here. But it was necessary nonetheless.

“I can’t believe we’ve made it,” he said.

“Almost, my friend,” Lungkaju replied cautiously. “We are almost there. Now we must be careful moving downslope. The rock is uneven. Let us go north to where it is more gentle.”

A short distance along the ridge, the gradient eased and Lungkaju began a painstaking descent. Callum followed on, keeping his body sideways and carefully testing the scree-strewn slope with every step.

A voice called out suddenly, “Do you wait?”

They turned around to see that Darya and Ava had stopped at the top of the slope. Ava was slumped on the ground, her head between her legs, Darya’s hands on her shoulders. The two men shared a look of patient resignation, before clambering back to the top.

“This has got to be a joke,” Ava was repeating between muffled sobs. “This is a setup, right? A great big, steep-sided setup!”

“Let me guess,” Callum said, remembering back to their tour of the Albanov’s bridge. “Heights?”

Darya scowled at him, while Ava nodded. She took several loud, exaggerated breaths. “Stairs are bad enough.”

“The slope is gradual here,” Callum said, trying hard to comfort her.

“I know, but I can’t help it. It’s because I can see so far into the distance. When I even look at it, I feel light-headed. What if I black out and fall? What if I slip over? I… I just can’t do it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I feel so weak.” She burst back into tears.

Lungkaju knelt down beside her and spoke softly. “Doctor Lee, please do not be sorry. You have done nothing wrong. And you are not weak.”

Ava wiped at her eyes.

“But you know that we must go to the compound,” he continued. “It is not possible for