He turned to see Reid hit the ground and roll and the camel fall flat on its belly as if hit from above by an invisible hammer. As Banks turned ‘round completely, the heavy spatter of rain became a downpour like the turning on of a multitude of taps. Reid was trying and failing to push himself to his feet.
“Wiggo, get the others to shelter. Sarge, you’re with me,” Banks shouted and moved, knowing that his order would be obeyed. A wind got up out of the north to accompany the rain and he could hardly see Reid and the camel beyond the water running and dripping from his brow as he ran back towards them.
Hynd was alongside Banks as they got to the fallen man. Reid was groggily getting to his feet but looked like he might collapse back to the sand at any moment. Hynd helped the man up while Banks checked on the camel. The animal was dead, gray glazed eyes open and staring as if in astonishment. Even through the rain, Banks smelled a hint of ozone and charred hair.
“What the hell happened?” Reid shouted. The man’s eyes were clear and he rubbed at the back of his head, as if he’d taken a bump. He looked to be none the worse for wear for his tumble.
Pity we can’t say the same about the camel.
“Lightning strike by the look of it,” Banks called back. “Fetch anything you need urgently from the bags. We need to get to cover.”
He watched as Reid got a satchel from the camel’s saddlebags. By the time they turned to head for the rocky outcrop, they were all soaked through. He thought he saw something move, the camel’s torso shuddering as if it struggled to take a breath, but that couldn’t be; the animal was most definitely dead. Then there was no time to think about it as a peal of thunder roared overhead and the rain came even heavier. All three of them broke into a run for cover.
Wiggins had at least found then a modicum of shelter up on the outcrop under an overhang on the south side in the lee of the wind and rain but with seven of them and a camel to accommodate, the ledge was cramped to say the least. At least the surviving camel was calm, showing no signs of alarm at the sudden death of the other, standing calmly while the professor managed an ungainly dismount.
“Davies, take a look at Doctor Reid here,” Banks said. “Make sure there’s nothing broken and no concussion—he took a heavy tumble.”
“Not as heavy as yon camel,” Wiggins said. “What the fuck happened?”
“Lightning strike,” Banks said, echoing his earlier thought but if that had been the case, surely Reid would also have been fried—unless the saddle somehow insulated him? They were questions he wasn’t going to be able to answer without a closer examination of the dead beast and now that the rain was pelting down, it wasn’t going to happen soon.
Davies gave Reid a clean bill of health then there was little any of them could do but watch and listen as the storm roared wildly around the outcrop. Wiggins managed to get the camp stove operating in a calmer spot against the wall and they were able to get some warm food and more coffee into them. Banks took a smoke when Hynd offered one and joined the sergeant in staring out into the rain.
“It’s going to make the rest of the walk a mess, that’s for sure,” Hynd said.
“It’ll still be better than Rannoch Moor in January,” he replied and the sergeant laughed.
“Aye, but anything’s better than that. Hell, even Wiggins’ patter is better than that.”
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t go quite that far,” Banks replied but he wasn’t really paying attention; he was looking out over the plain to the dead camel and the rain beginning to form a puddle around it as if it lay in a depression. He couldn’t get that final movement of its torso out of his head and the more he thought about it, the more he realized it hadn’t looked like a natural movement at all; it looked like something had pushed at the beast’s stomach, pushed outward from the inside.
And now it was hard to see anything through the rain but even at the distance of some forty yards, it looked as if the camel’s huge body had sunk in on itself and was strangely deflated, like a punctured football. He was now wondering whether his diagnosis of lightning strike wasn’t somewhere wide of the mark.
But what else could it be, out here in the middle of nowhere?
The storm raged on for several hours before showing signs of starting to wane. By then, the stink of the camel in their shelter was only being alleviated by their chain-smoking, although Reid’s black cheroots were almost as foul as the animal. Banks’ gaze turned often to where the other camel lay dead. It was almost centered in a deep puddle now, with water raised up almost drowning the body. That made it difficult to be sure but he was certain now that the body was considerably deflated, as if emptied from within.
When the rain stopped and the cloud started to dissipate overhead, he should have given the order to move out immediately but instead, he walked out from the shelter and over to have a closer look at the dead animal. Reid and Hynd walked over with him and all three stood at the edge of the puddle, looking at the carcass.
It looked to be little more than a bag of loose skin and jutting bones. Banks stepped into the puddle, planning to get a closer look but as if his foot had flipped a switch, the puddle started to drain away toward the center where the dead animal lay. The water gurgled as if falling into some deep chamber below. It took the remains of the camel down with it, slowly at first then faster as the water rushed away.
Banks stepped away from the rim of the puddle as the camel’s head, the last thing to go, stared at him accusingly from empty eyes. Then it was gone, along with all the water, leaving only a mud-filled crater in the center of where the puddle had been.
“What the fuck, Cap?” Hynd said.
“Some underground chamber? An old river channel under the sand? It must be,” Reid added.
“That might explain the water running away,” Banks said. “But it doesn’t explain what ate that camel from the inside out. Or what brought the beast down in the first place.”
Once again, Banks had many more questions than answers.
“Funny kind of lightning strike, Cap,” Hynd said once they were back at the outcrop as they prepared to move out.
“Funny kind of business all ‘round,” Banks replied. “But I’m not about to launch an investigation. We’ve got a long enough walk still ahead of us without worrying overmuch about a dead camel. Move them out, Sarge.”
Banks allowed Hynd to lead Wilkins and Davies, then Wiggins and Reid, chatting amiably like old friends, between him, and the stench of wet camel from where Gillings sat half-asleep on top. The sun had passed well overhead now, beginning its long descent to their left, but they had plenty of walking yet between them and any further rest.
“That storm has cost us hours we couldn’t really spare,” Banks said, loud enough for all to hear. “Let’s get a head of steam up, lads. We’ve got miles to go before bed.”
He settled into the loping bounce he used for carrying his pack over distance. It was a gait perfected in weeks of training in the Scottish Highlands in weather far more inclement than here in the desert which, if it hadn’t been for the dampness in all his clothing, might almost be pleasant. Both he and Hynd had expected the ground to be damp, possibly even muddy, but the desert had been so dry the rain appeared to have mostly soaked straight through. The only puddle of note had been the one where the dead camel had lain and by the time they’d left it behind, even the mud there was starting to dry and crack. Looking ahead, the desert looked flat and barren, punctuated by darker rocky outcrops that gave the impression of having been dropped from the sky to splash in the sand.