She spoke to Private Miller, his hands now bandaged.
“How do you feel?”
“Unafraid,” he answered, with a smile. “For the first time in ages. How about you?”
The question caught Edith off guard. “I beg your pardon?”
Miller jerked his head towards the gate. Hepton was returning with the agitated MO and Sister Fenton bringing up the rear. “It looks like you’re in trouble, Nurse Bell.”
From the look on Lippett’s face as he entered the compound, Miller was probably right. She knew she should have followed proper procedure and referred this to Sister Fenton first, before sending for Lippett, and knew Fenton would haul her over the coals for the breach of hospital protocol, but had thought this too urgent.
The MO looked from Edith to the shell-shock victims and back again with a bad-tempered glower. “Is this important? I haven’t time for your malingerers and skrimshankers, Bell. I have other things that require my attention. What seems to be the matter?”
Edith bobbed a little curtsey, which looked odd in her part-worn serge trousers. “I don’t know, sir. I wondered if you’d take a look? They don’t seem to be themselves. As you can see, the hysterical tremors seem to have stopped. They all seem calm, although some are developing swellings and all are complaining of stomach pains.”
“Is this what you brought me out here for, a bit of indigestion? Although if something they’ve eaten has eased their ‘symptoms,’ then we can send them back to the front line, can’t we? Lieutenant Everson could use every available man right now, wouldn’t you agree?”
Sister Fenton stepped up with a fierce glance of disapproval at Edith, warning of an imminent telling off. Nevertheless she covered for her nurse. “With respect, Doctor, if that is the case then we should wait and see. We wouldn’t want them becoming hysterical in the trenches again. Bad for morale. And it would reflect badly on you as Medical Officer.”
Lippett considered this for a moment. “Quite right, Sister.” He turned to Edith. “Nurse, as you seem to have worked miracles here, do you think you could do the same with the bed pans? They need emptying.”
Edith’s face flushed. She had expected him to listen to her, at least. “Yes, doctor.”
She hurried away, humiliated, taking a last glance at the calm, listless men behind her.
Something didn’t feel right.
THE NEXT DAY, 1 Section arrived at the canyon.
“Perfect for an ambush,” said Gazette after a brief recce. “But the tank definitely came this way.” He looked down at the trail left by the vehicle. The wind had begun to obscure it, but there was no mistaking the parallel tracks.
“Right. This place is just one bloody big trench, so trench clearance duties. If there are any surprises in there, I want it to be us. And conserve your ammunition. Don’t fire unless you have to. We may need it even more later.”
Chandar was reluctant to proceed. They had taken the gas hood off it now, but its hands remain tied. Gutsy tried prodding it with his bayonet. It hunkered down defensively and hissed angrily.
Gutsy pointed his rifle at the chatt. “Don’t you dare spit. Don’t you dare, or I’ll shoot you right here.”
Chandar cocked its head to one side and gulped another mouthful of air. “No further. This is not Khungarr burri. It belongs to other Ones, the Zohtakarrii. Ones do not enter the burri of other Ones.”
“Well, you were all for pushing everyone else off your territory into someone else’s, so it’s a little late to worry about them now,” Atkins gave it a shove on the back. “Gutsy, watch it,” he said. “Make sure it doesn’t bolt.”
“Oh, I’ll make sure all right,” said Gutsy. He took the length of rope around Chandar’s long three fingered hands and yanked it until the arthropod began to move reluctantly.
Atkins turned to Nellie. “Miss?”
“Nellie, please,” urged the FANY.
“Miss,” insisted Atkins. “I want you to stay close to Porgy.”
Atkins took the lead with Napoo as they entered the canyon. Mercy and Gazette came next, then Prof and Nobby. Gutsy and Chandar followed, and behind them Porgy escorted Nellie, while Chalky and Pot Shot brought up the rear.
Out of the sunlight, the early morning chill in the canyon was noticeable. The Tommies’ banter had stopped now. The men were intent on their surroundings.
The walls rose straight up on either side of them. After several hundred yards, the canyon curved to the left and opened out. The shadow that encompassed the canyon walls was beginning to retreat before the sun’s climbing advance on the right. High up on their sides, clusters of large blue-green blisters began to pulse in the sunlight. As they moved cautiously along the canyon floor, the shadows continued to shorten.
Napoo put a hand on Atkins’ wrist, pointed along the canyon and sank down on his haunches. Atkins turned and indicated the rest of the section to do the same. Silently they sank towards the floor.
“Yrredetti,” said Napoo.
Several arthropod bodies lay scattered about, which was odd. Yrredetti were lone hunters, blessed with a natural camouflage that helped them blend into their surroundings. It was one of the reasons the section had avoided the forest. These ones, though, with their mottled green carapaces, stuck out like a sore thumb against the rocks.
Atkins looked down at one of the Yrredetti bodies. Stitched across its thorax was a neat line of holes, the Ivanhoe’s work.
“These are forest Yrredetti. Not stone. See their markings?” said Napoo, squatting and examining one with the point of his short sword. Atkins nodded. They were certainly out of place in this vegetation-free landscape, where the only growing things seemed to be the large patches of blue-green blisters that populated the walls and the rocks. “The Khungarrii attacks have driven not only the urmen from their hunting grounds, but the Yrredetti, too. They are solitary creatures but here they are working in packs to hunt. Such co-operation is almost unheard of. ”
“You mean there could be more of them?” asked Nellie, hefting the unfamiliar weight of the revolver in her hand and glancing up at the scree slopes around them.
The rest of the section were eyeing the boulders and rocky clefts warily, too. A wind gusted between the rocks stirring little dust devils as it passed.
“There could be, and we’re a lot more vulnerable here than a bloody tank. We’d better move on,” said Atkins.
They proceeded cautiously along the canyon following the faint tank tracks. There was no sign of any living Yrredetti, forest or stone. Around another crook in the rock, the canyon widened again. Large boulders sat patiently on the scree slopes, perfect hiding places.
A landslide had slipped down to the canyon floor in a fan of scree and rocky debris, blocking their path. The tank tracks led right up to it. Atkins’ stomach plummeted. The tank wasn’t under there, was it?
Nobby scrambled clumsily up the landslide and stood triumphantly at the top.
“I can see tracks on the other side,” he said with a grin.
“So they’re not buried, then. That’s something,” said Chalky.
“Nobby, get down before you fall,” said Prof.
“I’m the king of the castle!” yelled Nobby, spinning round, arms out, his voice full of boyish glee. “Whoooo-hoooo!” his voice echoed off the canyon walls.
“Nobby,” barked Prof. “I’m not going to tell you again. Down. Now.”
Nobby stopped and gave him a sullen stare. “I was only havin’ a bit o’ fun. There ain’t no harm in that.”
“There is if you bring a ton of shit down on our heads, you dozy git,” said Porgy.
“Porgy! He didn’t mean no harm by it,” Nellie protested.
“He didn’t have to.”
Sulking, Nobby came clambering down. He trod awkwardly on a rock, then slipped and fell, his rifle clattering down the rocks.