48.
Nothing stirred in the jungle south of the gallery. Hawkins wasn’t sure if it was the bell Bray continuously rang that kept the draco-snakes at bay or that they’d been summoned by Bennett. But the jungle was clear and allowed them to move quickly, first at a sprint, then a jog, and now a fast walk as exhaustion set in. Hawkins guessed it was two miles to the south shore. Had he been well rested and not beaten, he might have run the entire distance, but in his current condition, even their current pace was a struggle. Every part of his body hurt, his chest and lungs most of all. But he pushed past the pain, for Joliet, for Bray, for Drake. They’d come too far and survived too much to give in to something like fatigue.
They moved in a tight group. Drake led the way, armed with a single butcher knife, which he used to hack away the occasional vine or branch obstructing their path. Hawkins and Joliet followed close together, and Bray brought up the rear, ringing his bell.
The sounds of the battle weren’t exactly far behind them—perhaps a quarter mile—but were so muffled by foliage that the soldiers’ gunfire sounded like distant fireworks. It was as much of a reprieve as they were going to get.
“What happened to you?” Hawkins asked Drake.
“Not entirely sure.” He motioned to the blood staining his clothes. “Woke up like this. I have a few fragmented memories. Like dreams. I’m pretty sure I was delusional. Wandering the jungle. Must have come across something that set me off. Could’ve been one of those dracos. Hell, could have been a goat. Or a cow.” He shrugged. “I woke up a few hours ago. Found my way to the farm. Helped myself to some food. Just started to feel a little bit more like myself when Bray shows up, gives me the short and nasty version of what happened to you all, and here we are.”
“You’re still feverish, aren’t you?” Joliet said.
“Feel like shit,” Drake confirmed. His body shivered in response to the acknowledgment. “But I think I got off easy compared to you. A lot easier than most of the people under my command.”
They walked in silence for a moment, the loss of their crewmembers weighing heavily.
“How did they die?” Drake asked.
No one wanted to answer that question. Drake had seen what happened to Blok. The shot he took to the head, while horrible, was quick and more painless a death than the others. “I don’t think—”
Drake chopped at a low-hanging branch and yanked it away. He paused and looked back at Hawkins. “How did they die?”
“Not well,” Hawkins said. “We don’t have time for this.”
“Ranger, I need to know.”
Hawkins was more concerned about how Drake would react than the few moments it would take to relate the details. The captain was still feverish, and if he pushed too hard, he could relapse into another delusional state, which could be a bad thing, given the blood covering his body and the butcher knife in his hand.
Bray had no such concerns. “Bennett stabbed Kam in the chest. DeWinter and Jones were incubators for the BFSs—the spiders. They died when the things came out. Jim and Ray were both experimented on. Ray died on the operating table. Jim became … a monster. Tried to kill us. Hawkins…”
Drake glared at Bray. “Hawkins what?”
Bray looked uncomfortable. It was a point Hawkins wanted to avoid, too. For now, at least.
Drake turned to Hawkins. “You what?”
Hawkins sighed. Time really was becoming an issue now. “I killed him. Quickly.”
Drake just stared at him for a moment and then said, “Then we’re not leaving anyone behind?”
“No, sir,” Hawkins said.
Drake gave a nod. “Couldn’t have been easy, doing what you did. Thank you.” Then he was off and moving again.
They covered the next mile of mostly level jungle without incident or conversation. Gunfire and screams occasionally filtered through the trees, but never nearby. They paused at the base of a hill. Hawkins looked up. The rise was steep and covered with outcrops of black, volcanic rock that would have to be scaled, but it wasn’t impassable. What he didn’t like was that the rough terrain held fewer trees. He could hear helicopters circling the island. If they were spotted on the hillside, they’d make an easy target for a minigun. An even easier target for a hellfire missile. But if they made it to the top, they’d be close to their goal.
“Catch your breath for a minute,” he said. “We’re going to have to do this quick.”
Bray stretched and winced. “Are we almost there? God, I sound like one of my students.”
Hawkins closed his eyes and pictured the island as he’d seen it from the top of the pillbox. They were approaching the south shore between the western shore and the lagoon. He remembered the hill. Once they reached the top, it would be a straight, downhill slope all the way to the shoreline and, hopefully, salvation. “Half mile more, tops.”