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Ali  tried  to  force  herself  to  work,  to  stay  clean,  say  her  prayers,  and  continue  to draw her day  maps. It  was a matter  of getting God's daily chaos in order.

On  the  morning  of  December  2,  they  heard  animal  noises  coming  from  the  beach. Those  who  could  sit  struggled  upright.  Their  worst  fear  was  coming  true.  The  hadals were  coming for them.

It  sounded  like  wolves  loping  into  position.  You  could  hear  whispered  snatches  of words.  Troy  began  to  totter  off  in  search  of  Ike,  but  his  legs  wouldn't  work  well enough. He sat down again.

'Couldn't they  wait?' Twiggs moaned softly. 'I just wanted to die in my  sleep.'

'Shut  up,  Twiggs,'  hissed  one  of  the  geologists.  'And  turn  out  those  lights.  Maybe they  don't know we're  here.'

The  man  got  to  his  feet.  In  the  preternatural  glow  of  stone,  they  all  watched  him

stagger  across  to  a  porthole  near  the  doorway.  With  the  stealth  of  an  intruder,  he cautiously lifted his head to the opening. And slid back down again.

'What did you see?' Spurrier  whispered. The  geologist was silent.

'Hey, Ruiz.' Finally, Spurrier  crawled over.  'Christ, the back of his head's gone!' At that instant the assault commenced.

Huge shapes poured in, monstrous silhouettes against the gleaming stone.

'Oh, dear God!' screamed Twiggs.

If not for his cry  in English, they  would have  been shredded with gunfire. Instead  there  was a pause.

'Hold your  fire,' a voice commanded. 'Who said "God"?'

'Me,' pleaded Twiggs. 'Davis Twiggs.'

'That's impossible,' said the voice.

'It could be a trap,' warned a second.

'It's just us,' said Spurrier, and shined his light on his own face.

'Soldiers,' cried Pia. 'Americans!'

Lights snapped on throughout the room.

Shaggy mercenaries ranged right and left, still crouched, ready  to shoot.  It  was  hard to  say  who  was  more  surprised,  the  debilitated  scientists  or  the  tattered  remains  of Walker's command.

'Don't  move,   don't  move,'   the   mercenaries   shouted   at   them.   Their   eyes   were rimmed with red. They  trusted  nothing. Their  rifle  barrels  darted  like  hummingbirds, searching for enemy.

'Get the colonel,' said a man.

Walker  was  carried  in,  seated  on  a  rifle  held  on  each  side  by  soldiers.  To  Ali,  he looked starved,  until  she  saw  his  blood.  The  knifed-open  rags  of  his  pant  legs  showed dozens  of  bits  of  obsidian  embedded  in  the  flesh  and  bone.  It  was  pain  that  had hollowed his face out. His faculties were  unimpaired, though. He took in  the  room  with a raptor's eye.

'Are you sick?' Walker demanded.

Ali  saw  what  he  saw,  gaunt  men  and  women  barely  able  to  sit.  They  looked  like scarecrows.

'Just very  hungry,' said Spurrier. 'Do you have  food?'

Walker  considered  them.  'Where's  the  rest  of  you?'  he  said.  'I  recall  more  than  just nine of you.'

'They  went  home,'  said  Chelsea,  prone  beside  her  chessboard.  She  was  looking  at

Ruiz's body. Now they  could see that the geologist had been sniped through the eye.

'They're  going back the way  we came,' said Spurrier.

'The physicians, too?' Walker said. For a moment he was hopeful.

'It's just us now,' said Pia. 'And you.'

He surveyed  the room. 'What is this place, a shrine?'

'A way  station,'  Pia  said.  Ali  hoped  she  would  stop  there.  She  didn't  want  Walker  to know about the circular map, or the ceramic soldiers.

'We found it two weeks  ago,' Twiggs volunteered.

'And you're still here?'

'We ran out of food.'

'It   looks  defensible,'   Walker   said  to  a  lieutenant   in  burned   clothing.  'Set   your perimeters.  Secure  the  boats.  Bring  in  the  supplies  and  our  guest.  And  remove  that body.'

They  set  Walker  on  the  ground  against  one  wall.  They  were  careful,  but  laying  his legs out was an agony for him.

Mercenaries  began  arriving  from  the  beach  with  heavy  loads  of  Helios  food  and supplies.   Not   one   retained   the   look   of   the   immaculate   crusaders   Walker   had

assiduously  groomed.  Their  uniforms  were  in  rags.  Some  were  missing  their  boots. There  were  leg  wounds  and  head  injuries.  They  stank  of  cordite  and  old  blood.  Their beards and greasy  locks made them look like a motorcycle gang.

Their veneer  of religious vocation had rubbed  away,  leaving  tired,  angry,  frightened gunmen.  The  rough  way  they  dumped  the  wetbags  and  boxes  spoke  volumes.  Their escape attempt  was not going well.

After  a  few  minutes,  Walker  returned  his  attention  to  the  scientists.  'Tell  me,'  he said, 'how many people did you lose along the way?'

'None,' said Pia. 'Until now.'

Walker  made  no  apology  as  the  geologist  Ruiz  was  dragged  from  the  room  by  the heels.  'I'm  impressed,'  he  said.  'You  managed  to  come  hundreds  of  miles  through  a wilderness without a single casualty. Unarmed.'

'Ike  knows what he's doing,' said Pia.

'Crockett's here?'

'He's  exploring,'  Troy  quickly  inserted.  'He  goes  off  days  at  a  time.  He's  looking  for

Cache V. For food.'

'He's  wasting  his  time.'  Walker  turned  his  head  to  the  black  lieutenant.  'Take  five men,' he said. 'Locate our friend. We don't need any more surprises.'

The  soldier said, 'You don't hunt that man, sir. Our troops have  had  enough,  the  last month.'

'I will not have  him roaming at large.'

'Why are you doing this?' Ali demanded. 'What's he done to you?'

'It's what I've  done to him  that's  the  problem.  Crockett's  not  the  sort  to  forgive  and forget. He's out there  watching us right now.'

'He'll run off. There's  nothing here for him anymore. He said we've  given up.'

'Then why  the tears?'

'You don't have  to do this,' Ali told him softly.

Walker  grew  brisk.  'No  live  catches,  Lieutenant,  do  you  hear  me?  Crockett's  first commandment.'

'Yes  sir,' the lieutenant breathed  out. He tagged five of his men and they  started  into the building.

After  the  search  team  left,  Walker  closed  his  eyes.  A  soldier  pulled  a  knife  from  his boot  sheath  and  slit  open  a  box  of  MREs  and  gestured  at  the  scientists.  It  was  up  to Troy  to feebly  carry  packets  to his comrades. Twiggs kissed his, then tore it open  with his teeth.

Ali's  first  bite  of  processed  military  spaghetti  was  delicious.  She  made  her  bites small. She sipped her water.

Twiggs vomited. Then started  over  again.

The  room  was  beginning  to  fill  up.  More  wounded  were  brought   in.  Two   men mounted  a  machine  gun  at  the  window.  All  told,  including  herself  and  her  comrades, Ali  counted  fewer  than  twenty-five  people  remaining  from  the  original  hundred  and fifty who had started  the journey.