Morgan spent the rest of the evening packing. Bringing only the most essential, he had to choose wisely, plan ahead for what ever could happen. Looking through the weapons crate once more, he found some smaller side arms as well, and some grenades. He decided on leaving the grenades, and rather bring an extra Mag-Pro and a side arm. Now it turned out that his lifelong devotion to books proved itself useful. He wouldn't have known back and forth of any of this, if it weren't for his reading; His need to know, to learn. To escape reality. The odd thing was, that now it seemed he could remember every word of it. Every description, every book. Every rapport he had ever read, -not paying much attention to it at the time, finding it boring; suddenly it were all available to him, in detail. He wasn't shure he wanted to know how he did it, but he just accepted it for now. He had other, more important things to do right now. When satisfied that he had everything he would possibly need, he settled down for the night, hoping the caffeine had wore off enough to let him get some rest. He were up with the sun the next morning, to exited to sleep. After a healthy breakfast, he rolled up his blankets, placing them in the drivers-seat, making it more comfortable for the long trek he had in front of him. Again checking that everything was ready, he turned of the light, and closed the pod, setting a new code to the Digi-lock. He looked thoughtfully at the dark spot in the sand next to the wall, where he had buried the weapons crate after it had gotten dark last night. Just in case... He switched off the perimeter, drove through, and turned it back on again. Taking a final look over the place, he set the vehicle in motion, and drove off, not looking back. «I can't believe I'm doing this! But I am!» He muttered to him-self, out of old habit, as he stopped by the brook, refilling his canteen, before he started following the landmarks leading him back onto the main trail, heading for New Pacifica.
Danziger waited impatiently as Julia scanned the three men from the scouting party, noting the readouts from her medi-glove down on her digi-pad, comparing notes. «They're all as healthy as we can expect, living as we do.» She answered his query look, pulling off her glove, studying her note-pad. «Nothing unusual: Baines and Walman are slightly dehydrated and undernourished, as is unfortunately the normal readouts after a scouting trip.» Danziger nodded towards the three men getting dressed. «How about Morgan?» Julia wrinkled her eyebrows, looking at the readouts. «He seems remarkably fit. Compared to his last check, he's put on weight, muscle mass, and his health seems to have improved.» «When did you check him last?» «Two weeks ago, along with the rest of you. This just don't make sense.» She whispered, searching her mind to find a reasonable answer. Danziger rubbed his neck, studying Morgan through the plastic door between the two rooms. As if he felt his eyes on him, Morgan looked up, looking Danziger straight in the eye, grinning. The three men came out, and he dismissed them. «Something's definitely wrong here!» He muttered, as he watched Morgan stride away, turning in the opposite direction of his tent. «The whole camp feels it. People are getting edgy. And the guys has not been back more than three hours.» He couldn't shake the feeling of unrest that Morgan had left in him, just by looking at him. «Well, the medi-glove don't lie. He's gotten bigger and stronger in only a few days, when he really should have lost weight.» In the next few days, Danziger kept an eye on Morgan, still not able to put his finger on anything unusual, except his lack of whining and complaining. Just after breakfast, as he was working on one of the vehicles, Alonzo came up to him, looking puzzled. «Er... John, how many Mag-Pro's do we have, actually?» Danziger's face got hard, looking at the younger man. «Why? Any missing?» Alonzo shook his head. «Nope. We seem to have one to many.» Danziger fell back against the tent wall, looking baffled. «One to many? » «Uh-huh. I gathered them all, to give them a real thorough shine over, right? And there's one to many!» «Did you check the serialnumbers?» Alonzo nodded: «It's one of ours. It's just that...» He hesitated, knowing how unbelievable it would sound: «It comes from a different crate. One of the lost ones!» Danziger's eyes widened, and he paled noticeably under his sun-tan. «You mean, someone's got a crate of guns stuck away somewhere?!» Alonzo shrugged: «Very unlikely. We empty the vehicles, strip them apart ever so often...» Danziger nodded, chewed on his lover lip, then he got up. «Not a word to any one, and keep your eyes open.» He whispered, as he walked determined into the mess-tent. Walman sat among some women at a table, finishing his breakfast, and Danziger marched over to him, slamming a fist in the table. «I want to know what really happened out there, or so help me, I'm gonna wring it out of you!» Walman got pale, trying to swallow his mouthful of porridge. The steel blue eyes of the tall mechanic standing over him were shooting lightnings at him, and he crumbled, spilling out the whole story. «You knew he had dropped his gear, stripped him for all equipment, and left him alone over night?! Just for fun?! » «We were just near by, he could have called... Besides, we found him waiting for us the next morning...» Walman whined. Danziger grabbed the man by his shirt, lifted him up from the ground 'til their faces were level, staring him into the eye, so angry he found no words. Then, with a hiss of contempt, he threw Walman away from him, leaving the mess-tent in long strides. «Man, I've never seen him that angry before?» One of Walman's table-companions muttered.
Morgan parked his L.T.V. on the abandoned camp-site where his friends had caught up with the Advance Team after they had left him behind, and he settled himself for the night. They weren't to far ahead of him now, though, for the grass on the site was still flattened down where the heavier stuff had stood. They had stayed for a few days here, probably tanking water, repairing the vehicles, 'gathering' from the woods over there, waiting for the scout team. He set up his tent next to the remains of their fireplace, scraping up enough kohl to make himself a small fire. «Waist.» He muttered, lighting it. But their leftovers had saved him for many trips into both desert and wood-land, looking for firewood. He had seen some Grendler-tracks to, some crossing their trail, some following them for hours. After a quick meal, he sat down in his hammock, trying to read while the light was still good enough, but he felt to... exited... restless. He couldn't quite describe it, but he... He got up, starting to scuff about, kicking in the grass where the tents had stood, not really knowing why. His boot-tip hit something small and shining inside one of the trampled circles, and he bent down to pick it up. Touching it, he felt like he got stung! It was Bess'es wild-flower necklace. The lock was broken. For a long time, he just stood there, staring at it, as was it Bess herself he held. He didn't even know he was crying, until a drop of water hit the shiny surface encasing the brittle, white flower, making him look up to see if it was raining. «Not long now.» He breathed, placing the necklace inside his shirt, close to his skin. Poor Bess. «She thinks me dead.» He sighed heavily. «Wonders if she miss me.» He crawled into his hammock, clutching his blankets, and tried to get some sleep. He got to start early tomorrow. They were so near...
Danziger strode angrily out into the buzz and life of the morning preparations of the camp, calming himself as he headed towards Julia's tent. «You up yet?» He called, waiting outside 'til she answered. Once inside, he saw that she was still working on the DNA samples she had retracted from Morgan the other day. «Haven't you been to bed at all?» He said, handing her a steaming cup of tea. «We're breaking camp tomorrow. I just wanted to get ready with this.» She motioned tired towards her work-station, carefully sipping the tea. «Find anything?» She shook her head. «Nothing.» Danziger quickly filled her in on what Walman had finally revealed. «But that doesn't explain how he's gotten bigger.» He finished, turning towards the door, as Bess came in. The young woman looked like she hadn't had much sleep either, and her usually so cheerful smile was gone, leaving deep furies of worry and grief on her face. «Bess! You allright?!» Danziger asked worried, as he saw her. She smiled bleakly and nodded. «I've got to talk to you, both.» She hesitated. «It's Morgan.» Julia and Danziger shot eachother a concerned look. «Or, more correct, It's not Morgan!» She added, sitting down on Julia's cot. «He looks like Morgan, sounds like Morgan...» She looked pleadingly at Danziger, then at Julia. «But he's not Morgan! That's what you're thinking too, isn't it? Why else would you be doing all these tests?» Danziger didn't know what to say. Bess had set words to what he himself had been reluctant to even think. Morgan was not Morgan. But the entire camp seemed to be of the same view though, however not aware of it. There were more arguing, more complaints, more strife and hostility among the crew than ever. And all had started just after Baines, Walman and Morgan had come back from their search for eventual pods in the Roanoak falldown quadrant. Not that Morgan had said or done anything to cause the unrest. To the contrary, he acted just like any other of the crew, all of a sudden. Not once complaining, or trying to excuse himself from his work with the lamest excuses he could come up with, taking his shifts of guard-duty... While Danziger was lost to thought, Julia retold Bess what Walman had told Danziger. «They left him alone, defense-less?» Bess gasped, wide eyed. Danziger suddenly looked up. «That's it.» He said, running out of the medical-tent. The two women just looked at eachother, not understanding. Walman saw Danziger coming running towards him, and looked about him for a way out of there, but found none. He closed his eyes, waiting for it. «Walman.» Danziger gasped for air. «You said you stripped Morgan for his Mag-Pro, right?» Walman nodded. «When you picked him up the next morning, did you or Baines miss any of your guns?» Walman looked puzzled, thinking hard, then he shook his head. «But when you found Morgan, you said he was sitting with his Mag-Pro over his knees?» The surprised look on Walman's face was answer enough for Danziger; They had left camp with two guns, and arrived with three! But that still didn't explain Morgan's change.
After a short and restless night, Morgan started on his days trek, eating his biscuit-breakfast as he drove along the clearly visible path his friends had made. «Imagine. One day this will probably be a street, or a highway.» He thought out loud, not really understanding the meaning of the words. But Bess had tried to explain to him what a street looked like. Almost like the main-corridors of the station, he gathered, just outdoors. No ceiling. Looking around him, he felt bad about the idea of a street amidst all this, somehow. It just didn't seem right. It didn't belong here... He could loose himself to thoughts like that hours on end, shortening the time. He had sort of gotten used to being alone. As long as it wasn't lost alone, but going home alone. The nightmarish memories had eased of, as he had finally faced them, seeing them for what they were, leaving him time to think. He finished munching his ration of breakfast, and flushed it down with a mouthful of water, and grimaced over the taste. He had refilled his water supply yesterday, dropping some 'cleansers' into the cans and cags. He had quite forgotten how horrible it tasted, even after only a few days with clean water. But it was necessary, if he didn't want to get sick. Getting back into the L.T.V. after a badly needed 'pit-stop', his attention was caught by some tiny, purple flowers along the side of the trail. So small, you could hardly see them on their larger, thick stems. He got out, getting to his knees, carefully lifting the minute flower-head up with one finger. It was a violet. Pink and purple. How beautiful it was. So tiny. Barely the size of a match-head or two. It grew in a cluster of many small roots, all budding and blossoming. How he wished that Bess could have seen this. She loved violets. He looked at the flower, thoughtfully. Then he reached inside his vehicle, found a empty biscuit-can, and filled it with soil from the slope the little flower grew in, carefully eased up a cluster of roots, and planted it in the can, sprinkling it gently with water, placing it in the shade inside the L.T.V. «I'm definitely going nuts!» He sighed, then he drove on. If he drove until it got dark, and then started just before dawn, he could possibly catch up with them by tomorrow night, if they didn't increase their speed, or lengthen their days trek. Or both. Suddenly he felt it like the L.T.V. stood still, even if he could tell he was racing ahead at a fairly good speed. «Wait.» He begged. «Please, wait.»