Fault Line by Chris Ryan Page B

Alex. It seemed like a final badge of uselessness. The bandage and the splint he could hide under his sleeve while he got on with things, but not a great big sling.
    ‘You should,’ said Paulo.
    ‘But I won’t be able to do anything. It’ll get in the way.’
    Paulo tied the sling on. ‘You won’t be able to do anything anyway. You can’t pick anything up with those fingers.’
    Alex grabbed the water container in his left hand. ‘I’ll do water duty, then,’ he said angrily. He stumped off towards the stream. This was all he needed. They had only three or four hours before the helicopter was due. Now it would be down to the others to clear all the wood. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was very, very unpopular by now.
    Even fetching the water was a challenge. When he struggled back up the hill with the full container he could only use his left arm and the muscles felt like they were on fire. He dunked a couple of Puritabs in and looked for the row of empty water bottles lined up beside the bergens. But he realized he couldn’t fill them – it took two hands to lift the container and tilt it.
    Amber came up to deposit her other bottle, also empty. ‘So what is this? Self service?’
    Alex nodded. ‘’Fraid so.’
    She didn’t look amused.
    Paulo came up to refill his water. ‘Alex, you could take over looking after the patient.’
    ‘Yeah, sure,’ said Alex. He was glad there was something he could do.
    Alex noticed that as they got more tired, they had more bumps and scrapes. When they came for water they had more and more rips in their clothes, bleeding knuckles, grazed arms. Li cut away a section and the lost bergens came to light, like archaeological remains. The metal frames were squashed and twisted.
    Amber, clearing wood, picked them up and tossed them to Alex. ‘See if there’s anything in there that isn’t as flat as a pancake.’
    Alex opened a bergen and caught a strong whiff of camping gas. The stoves had been crushed and the gas cylinders had burst. He remembered how they’d considered using explosives on the tree remains. He’d been very tempted. Thank goodness he hadn’t – he’d have blown them sky high. He carried the bergens off to dump them.
    Paulo and Amber came towards him, wheeling another circle of tree between them. Paulo saw the bergens. ‘Alex, are there any rations in there? I’m starving.’
    Amber’s face lit up. ‘Rations!’
    ‘Contaminated,’ said Alex. ‘I wouldn’t touch them if I were you. I’m just getting them out of the way.’
    They looked so disappointed that for a moment Alex thought they might run him down and snatch them.
    Finally, the area was clear. A pile of wood remained in the middle for the fire, laid out in the shape of a giant letter H, for signalling to the heli as it went over. Alex went round touching a flaming torch to it. The others sat at the edge on the three packed bergens, exhausted.
    ‘What if one bit of it goes out?’ said Li. ‘Then it won’t say H, it’ll look like a chair.’
    ‘Or a swastika,’ said Hex. ‘Hope the pilot won’t get the wrong idea about us.’
    When the H was fully ablaze, Alex came back and joined them.
    ‘ Hombre ,’ said Paulo, ‘I have to hand it to you. You don’t mess up very often, but when you do, you do it in style.’
    ‘I’m sorry, guys,’ said Alex. ‘Really sorry.’
    The heli sounded different without the canopy. The first they heard was drumming in the air, then a high-pitched whine that increased imperceptibly, as though it had always been there. Then they saw it, a black torpedo in the sky with a circular blur of rotor blades like a halo. It circled away and came back.
    Alex looked up. The pilot was waving.
    Alex understood. He jumped up. ‘He’s seen us. Let’s put the fire out, then he can come back.’
    The heli circled away.
    They seized the water still purifying in the containers. Alex started sloshing it on the fire. They’d spent so long fetching and carrying it and