Third World (26 page)

He was going on to talk about the
distance, and the range, but Newton Shapiro was one step ahead of
him as he grabbed his field notes and started looking for the tower
frequency.

If the river was overflowing at the
first location, it was likely to be overflowing at any other
location nearby, whether up or downstream.

But there were clearings, plenty of
them, some of them big enough to take a small chopper, all over the
place.

***

The helicopter was crewed by a pilot
and co-pilot, and to Newton’s eternal gratitude there was a doctor
and nurse aboard. With Oscar safely loaded, that would leave two
seats.

He did some quick thinking.

“
Beth?” She came over as
they watched the medical people expertly lift Oscar in his alloy
stretcher and strap him down, with Trooper Wilson holding the IV
bottle high up and well clear.

The nurse took the bottle and said
something, patting Wilson on the arm.

“
Yes, sir?”

“
Should we pick two bodies
and send them home?”

She shook her head quickly.

“
No. We need them, for
tree-clearing, God…bridge-building.”

He snorted in agreement.

“
Yes. If things get bad
enough, why, even I might have to pitch in.” He grinned in relief.
“Winston Churchill.”

That was bullshit, but she might not
know any better.

She gave him an appreciative glance,
laughing and slapping her thigh.

“
It’s lonely at the
top!”

“
Roger that.” He grinned.
“At least we’re not in such a hurry anymore.”

The fact that they still hadn’t made
contact with the ship, with a full three days gone by and no word
from above, was worrying enough. His major responsibility was here.
Sooner or later, someone was bound to ask him about the ship, and
he had no idea of how to handle that.

The pilot looked out at him with a
panel of the side windows cranked down.

An unfamiliar male voice came in his
ears.

“
All aboard?”

Shapiro nodded vigorously and waved.
The side door was shut carefully by one of his people, and the
handle turned and locked into place. Everyone stood clear, some
with hands over their ears. The revs built and the noise thundered.
The machine lifted carefully, lifting straight up for a hundred
metres before moving off, accelerating and climbing rapidly until
it was soon lost to sight among dark rain clouds and the lowering
eastern horizon. The last sight of Oscar’s pale face would haunt
Newton for a long time.

There was that crackling in the
ear-pieces again. It was becoming incredibly irritating.

The river must be nearby. He could hear
it over the sound of desultory talk coming from troopers and senior
staff alike. They hadn’t even noticed it yet.

He keyed to the command over-ride
frequency.

“
All right, people. Let’s
find that river-crossing.” The odds were it would be ten feet deep
in the middle and they would have to wait.

The shadows were lengthening and the
sun was low down to the west.

Mounting Unit Two, where Roy sat
placidly and Hank Beveridge huddled alone in his seat, Newton
Shapiro took out the master control device and unlatched the
restraints on their prisoner.

Rubbing his wrists in contemplative
fashion, Hank looked up at him with a question in his
eyes.

“
They say he’s got a very
good chance. Anyway, I guess you’ve earned it.” Newton had seen the
chopper sitting there on arrival, what seemed like a long time ago,
and in the intervening time he had completely forgotten about
it.

“
Hank.”

“
Yes?”

“
Thank you.”

Beveridge just nodded.

Not remembering the helicopter was a
serious error, hopefully one that would not cost Oscar his life or
even just the leg.

Lately, deep down inside, it felt like
every little thing was his own damned fault.

Chapter
Twenty-One

The Water Had
Dropped

The water had dropped perceptibly over
the last six hours. Trooper Hatcher had the foresight to jam a long
dry stick into the edge of the stream right where the lapping waves
hit the crumbling turf. The water had moved back a couple of
metres. While the ground under the water might have a gentle slope,
there must be a regular channel out there somewhere.

With Trooper Wilson volunteering to get
wet, they tested the waters.

Stripping down to nothing but
undershorts, undershirt and his thick wooly socks, they tied a rope
on him. Wilson wrapped a wide waterproof pouch about his waist,
making it very tight on his body, and then he waded out into the
dark and curling waters, pushing upstream as he went.

Even from shore, it was possible to see
the rows of goose-bumps going all up and down him. He got fifteen
metres in and then stopped, gasping as the cold water hit his
kidneys.

He put his arms up and waved them back
and forth. He stood there for a moment, craning his neck to look
back.

“
Get ready!”

The four soldiers holding the rope
looked at each other, planted their feet and took a good grip on
the rope.

Wilson, Mark was his name, stepped
forward and then obviously slipped on mud and went right in, with a
big splash and an audible gasp even at this distance. When he came
up, he was clearly to the left and moving along quite rapidly, but
he struck out strongly, angling upstream for the opposite
bank.

They watched in awe as the soldiers fed
him more line, and he suddenly found the ground again, standing up
about waist deep and thrashing around and tripping again as he
turned and faced them.

He gave them a wave and then, taking a
firm grip on the rope, he waded strongly up and out of the water,
dancing around on shore like a mad thing, slapping his arms around
his body and shaking his head. He tore off the pouch.

In a moment, his voice came over the
headset.

“
All right, this thing’s
wet. Can you hear me?”

“
Roger that. How deep is it
in the middle?”

“
I don’t know. I didn’t
touch bottom, but the channel is only about ten metres
across.”

“
Roger that.”

Wilson got out of the knotted rope,
still dancing and prancing about, and then he seized on one
particular tree, growing right at the base of the slope, his form
appearing oddly pale after days of travel in the muck and the filth
of the lowlands.

“
Are you okay?”

“
We’re all secured. Fuck,
Lieutenant. “I’m fucking dying over here—and I still got to go
back.”

“
Your efforts are greatly
appreciated, Trooper Wilson. Thank you, Mark.”

There was no response over the link,
but they could hear his moaning and cursing in the normal fashion,
as he stumbled back into the water, leaving the headset on, and
holding the rope with both hands as the water swept up to his chest
and neck. Finally he set out, strongly kicking and holding onto the
rope for dear life as the current fought and struggled to carry him
away.

The soldiers on land began yelling for
all they were worth.

“
Come on, boy! Come on!”
Spaulding and Faber, all the troops, were shouting and egging him
on.

“
Get those blankets ready.”
They needed no telling.

Wilson was their hero and half of them
stepped into the water as the exhausted swimmer fell face-flat in a
half metre of water, coming up with the most tormented look on his
face and then almost going down again.

“
Get him up
here!”

Figures surrounded Wilson and they
scuttled up to the open door of Unit One. Wilson, one sock missing
and bare legs covered in oozing black mud, was half-lifted and
half-pushed up the ladder where willing hands were waiting to
receive him.

A voice came in his ears. It was
Hatcher, now back inside Unit One.

“
He says it’s about two
metres deep in the middle.”

Newton’s shoulders slumped.

“
Thank you.”

He found himself staring into a
grinning Semanko’s eyes.

“
What?”

“
Give that man a fucking
medal!”

Newton grinned crookedly. He had no
course but to agree. But at least now they had a line across, and
with a bit of work, they would put a thick wire rope over there and
with the winch on the front adding its power to the drive wheels
they’d have a fifty-fifty chance of making it across.

Two metres. They would camp overnight
and see if the water rose or fell.

You couldn’t ask for much better than
that.

Lieutenant Shapiro keyed up the command
frequency for all concerned. Hank Beveridge stood right there at
his shoulder, saying nothing but looking a bit better now that he
was eating once in a while.

“
All right, people, listen
up.”

***

So relieved at Oscar being safely in
the hospital, for ground communications were working just fine and
they had been notified immediately on his arrival at the small but
professional Capital City Hospital, Newton had the troops set up
camp after smashing down the underbrush by linking arms and
marching around in a circle. Silly as it seemed, it was effective
enough and the mood lightened considerably.

Out of sight, out of mind, but the
prognosis for Oscar was good according to the report.

He remembered the hospital from their
patrols.

They set up three big tents with the
doors all facing inwards, and after soaking the ground with water
from the swollen river, they dragged in heaps of deadfall branches
and cut some fresh logs for a fire.

The odds of a forest fire seemed rather
slim these days, but it was standard procedure.

Newton pulled out his big bottle of
scotch, and shared that around, gratified to see them loosen up
around him, and at the same time, enjoying the relaxation, the
camaraderie of the troops. It was with a sheepish look that someone
else—it might have been Cornell, dragged out another small bottle
when Newton’s ran dry.

Shapiro made a big joke about how his
bottle had shrunk into ‘this itty-bitty little one,’ and he had the
feeling his stock had risen considerably. With nothing to do but
wait, they had quite a little party going for a while, with Wilson
enjoying his new hero status to the max.

The next morning dawned bright and
clear. In spite of the fact they’d had a tough day the day before,
and a long evening, and a night tormented by cold and flying,
biting insects that seemed as tough as anything anyone had ever
heard of, the soldiers were relatively easy to get
moving.

Ensign Spaulding stood front and centre
and spoke to them.

“
All right. The river is
falling.”

“
Yay!”

“
Shut up. As you know, we
have a line across. I need two volunteers.”

There was much muttering and much
groaning, and sidelong looks at Newton, standing with arms crossed
well off to one side. It was her shift, and he hadn’t been to bed
yet. Taking the night shift and making sure the sentries didn’t
fall asleep was all part of the job, and he took his turn in
regular rotation just like the other senior staff.

Wilson stuck his hand up.

“
No, not you. You’re off the
hook for today.”

Wilson grinned, and high-fived the
soldier standing next to him, as the fellow suddenly withered under
Spaulding’s glare.

“
Ah. Mister Hatcher. We
haven’t heard quite enough from you lately.”

“
Uh, oh.” The comment came
from the back, and the crew broke up, including
Spaulding.

Newton glanced at Hank Beveridge, who
still looked very tired, and Faber and Jackson were standing right
there with amused looks. They had the cable all ready to go, they
just wanted a warm body to carry it.

“
Mister Hatcher, pick a
partner. Then get this wire across.”

Newton nodded approvingly. That would
teach the little sucker. But he was surprised by what came
next.

“
I’ll take you,
ma’am.”

Even Beveridge haw-hawed at that one,
as a hoot went up from the assembled troops.

She turned, face flaming red, as if to
seek comfort from Newton and the rest.

Newton elaborately shrugged and the
look she gave him was definitely chilly but otherwise
unreadable.

She turned back.

“
All right, soldier. You’re
on.”

With Hatcher and the other troops
staring in complete shock, Ensign Beth Spaulding turned, went to
the door of Unit One, and began stripping off her armour, handing
it up to a rather bug-eyed Billsom who was waiting with blankets
for the unlucky troopers who would make the crossing.