It was difficult going into Three. Sussman’s stuff lay all over the place. I tidied it all carefully away, concentrating only on what I was doing and not allowing my mind to wander. I watched my hands fold his clothes and stow his kit neatly. I took the readings, turned off the lights, and left without looking back.
Approaching my pod from a different route, I found myself looking down on the clearing and path. The stains were still there. I didn’t want to attract predators so I went down, kicked dust and gravel over the blood, and picked up what I could find of our packs.
I climbed on to the pod roof, checked the scanner alignments, changed the disks, and climbed down again. Inside, I showered, ate, wrote careful logs for that day and the day before, and did my data entry. I filed the disks and still slightly surprised at this calm, efficient me, went to bed.
And that was pretty well the pattern for the next fifteen days. It was hard work alone, but I needed it. I drew strength from my photo, now set up on the console where I could see it. I felt sad and shocked and lonely and for the first time in my life I missed someone, but this work had to be done and only I could do it. Each day I went out, did what had to be done, and came back. I talked to the photo. I talked to myself. I think I even chatted briefly once with a rock.
Whether all the drama had been used up on that awful day, I don’t know, but everything remained relatively trauma-free. On the other hand, I had sprayed so much cabbage spray all over me and my kit that everything probably thought I was a walking bush. My wounds seemed to be healing without infection and I told myself the worst was over.
I spent the last two days heaving all the kit back to Three. That bloke who said, ‘Give me a lever and a place to stand and I can move the world,’ obviously never stood up to his knees in a Cretaceous swamp, trying to manoeuvre a refrigerator-sized packing crate uphill.
I spent half a day in Three, prepping for the jump and setting the countdown. I shut the door and watched it go, then stared for a while at the flattened area where it had been – no idea why I did that – before making my way back to my own pod, carefully, because I didn’t want to get into trouble now.
I sorted my pod, dictated my final notes, updated the logs, and checked all the disks were present and correct. I looked at the small mountain of boxes in the corner. Data. Unique, priceless, hard-won data. I got the sky scanners off the roof and packed them away. There really was nothing left to do.
I made a cup of tea and sat in the doorway. This had been my home for three months. Sussman had died here. I felt reluctant to leave. I watched the activity around the lake. A solitary Torosaurus trundled down to drink alongside a pair of Parasaurolophus with their banana-shaped crests and still no clues as to their purpose. Resonating chamber? Sexual display? Enhanced sense of smell? Someone else would study the data and decide. My favourite, Andrew Ankylosaurus, shuffled around with his great tail. And the bastard raptors, doing what raptors do. Who could blame them? And the infamous velociraptors. They were smaller than I had expected, but clever. I hoped someone would pursue the link between meat-eating and intelligence. And a group of Proceratops; we had some great shots of their nests with their eggs laid in those fascinating spiral patterns.
I had a huge affection for these creatures; old friends now, all of them. And dead. All dead. Long dead.
Oh, for God’s sake. I threw away the remainder of my tea, did the FOD plod, the POD plod, and had no reason to stay any longer. I let the computer initiate the jump – and it was done.
Chapter Nine
Finally, I was home. The blue decon light flickered and I felt the hairs on my arms stir. I took a breath and savoured the moment. I was home. Craning my neck slightly, I could see Number Three down at the other end of the hangar. Techies swarmed around it, doing techie things. I sighed. Suddenly, I felt very tired.
Someone tapped at the door. I had to open it. He would have seen that Three was empty and come straight across to Eight, expecting us both to be here. I was going to have to open the door and let the world in. I hit manual. He stood on the threshold and took in the lack of Sussman.
His face said everything. He didn’t ask what happened, which was just as well, because for a moment, I couldn’t speak.
‘Are you all right?’
I nodded. It was enough simply to hear his voice after all this time.
‘Take your time.’
I took him at his word, leaned back and closed my eyes. I heard the door close and when I looked, he stood just inside. He said, ‘Come here.’
I stood shakily, took a step towards him, and put my arms around his solid warmth. He held me tightly. He really was the best of men. He said nothing, rubbing my back gently. I went to pull away but he tightened his grip and said, ‘No,’ very softly, so I laid my head on his chest and listened to his strong, steady heartbeat.