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The numbing shock of the barrage was slow to wear off, Revell felt it clouding his mind, struggled to shake free of it. For no obvious reason, perhaps only due to blind instinct, he turned towards the shore.

Someone was shouting, running towards him. The major let go of Fraser, and reached for his 12-gauge assault rifle. He had hung on to it through everything, but now as he unslung it, it felt unfamiliar. As he brought it up to fire at the approaching figure, he realised how badly damaged it was. Deep inside, his mind sluggishly recognised the irony. The weapon was like him, intact but incapable of functioning properly. As he slowly examined it, fire-scarred hands carefully took it from his grasp.

There was no expression on Hyde’s face, there never could be, but Revell sensed the sergeant’s concern. ‘I’m OK, just a bit scrambled; take charge, will you.’ Only distantly did he hear Hyde bark a string of orders. Faces around him were indistinct, he just wanted to get away, be by himself, but there was something else he had to do first, something he had to tell the NCO. The thought crept through the darkness in his head, trying to surface. ‘Get the men over to the shore, the cabin. If anyone comes to pick us up, that’s where they’ll look first.’

‘That’s a fucking great ‘if’.’ Dooley took the major’s arm, and began to lead him, as he had earlier lead Fraser.

Revell didn’t resist. It was good to temporarily relinquish the responsibility of choosing what route to take. His legs moved mechanically and kept moving, even when his mind switched off completely.

‘The captain says he’ll send the signal when we surface.’ Hyde settled himself on the floor of the submarine’s control room beside the major.

Awareness was coming back to Re veil, but it was a slow process, and he needed moments to form thoughts that would normally be instantaneous. ‘Is there any word about the Russian ships?’

‘Not a lot, but the captain says that’s good. They should have popped up in the North Sea by now, but they haven’t. The Swedes are kicking up bloody hell. Doesn’t matter that the barrage destroyed the Lance, seems some of the Russian ‘overs’ went on to clobber seven sorts of brick dust out of the mainland. Accusations and counter-accusations are flying all over. Probably won’t come to a fight, but suddenly the Swedes aren’t friends with Moscow. Oh yes, one of their main complaints is about a ruddy great aircraft carrier that’s gone aground off Gothenburg. Thought you’d like to know that.’

Little by little, Fraser had edged out from the self-imposed internal exile of his hood. He looked around the shining clean control and crew-filled room. This was a better way to go to war, isolated at a distance from the death and ugliness. A crewman handed him a large mug of soup and he clasped his hands about it. The submariner was about his own age, and Fraser felt he could talk to him.

‘I’ve never been in a sub before, what sort is it?’

‘Oberon class, HMS Onyx. She’s a hunter-killer.’ Fraser put the soup back on the tray, pulled his hood tight across his face, and hid from the war.

THE ZONE Series by James Rouch:

HARD TARGET

BLIND FIRE

HUNTER-KILLER

SKY STRIKE

OVERKILL

KILLING GROUND

PLAGUE BOMB

CIVILIAN SLAUGHTER

BODY COUNT

DEATH MARCH

Copyright

Copyright © 1981 by James Rouch

An Imprint Original Publication, 2005

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers.

First E-Book Edition 2005

Second IMRPINT April 2007

The characters in this book are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

THE ZONE

THE ZONE E-Books are published by

IMPRINT Publications, 3 Magpie Court

High Wycombe, WA 6057. AUSTRALIA.

Produced under licence from the Author, all rights reserved. Created in Australia by Ian Taylor © 2005