Beach Head, true to his word, woke his team before it was completely light out. They arose with mutters and groans. Airtight unwrapped himself from the remains of the still collapsed tent and prodded at the embers of the fire. They stood in a circle as Beach Head paced around them. "You know your assignments," he told them. "If you've got a problem with 'em, I don't want to hear about it." He put a few logs on the smoldering fire and grabbed the largest pot. Slamming the pot down on its trivet, he faced them again. "Let's just eat and get out there."

Everyone grumbled a little at having to eat the metallic tasting stew for breakfast, but didn't dare complain too loudly. They finished in silence, and Beach Head took his turn at cleaning as the others gathered the gear they would need for that day's work.

Forty minutes later, Mainframe was lost. He stared down at his GPS device. He knew how they worked, of course, and he could tell his coordinates. The problem was he didn't know where he was supposed to be. Nor had he marked the camp's coordinates before he started. That had probably been a mistake, he admitted to himself. He turned in a circle. All of the trees looked the same. He shrugged, drew a dot on the paper with his present coordinates labeled clearly, and walked into the trees.

Airtight stood watching the small river as it burbled merrily through the woods. He looked at his pile of supplies and scratched his head. It couldn't be too difficult to divert a stream. It was just a matter of knowing where you wanted the water to go and making it go there. He knew where he wanted it to go… he picked up a shovel and started digging.

Cover Girl stared at the pieces of metal heaped on the ground. Once assembled, they would make a short tower that could be wired to the radio they'd brought with them. Lying in pieces, they didn't even look like they belonged together. She shrugged and pulled the first piece out. It couldn't possibly be that hard. There was only one way that they would go together, and it was just a matter of figuring out how.

Shipwreck walked around the outside of the building. It looked terrible, but not as bad as everyone seemed to think. Heck, he had slept in worse places. Still, a job was a job, and he would do his best to shirk it. He climbed to the roof and selected the flattest intact area. Settling in, he closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Beach Head had looked over the generator, but decided it could wait. They didn't need electricity anyway; what would they do with it—cook the stew a different way? What he needed was a good physical work-out. Grabbing a shovel and pick axe, he made his way into the trees to find a spot to dig the first latrine.

Shipwreck woke up when his stomach told him it was lunch time. He peeked over the edge of the roof, but Beach Head was nowhere to be seen. He jumped down and headed inside the building. He could at least start lunch, and Beach Head might even let him take a break later as a reward for getting the food ready without being told. An hour later, Shipwreck had eaten everything he'd made and no one else had shown up. With a shrug, he headed into the woods to find his teammates.

Beach Head wasn't hard to find. Shipwreck simply followed the sound of loud angry cursing. He walked into the small clearing and looked into the deep hole. The drill sergeant's head was at least a foot below the rim. "Hey, Beach, I think that's deep enough. How often do you go to the bathroom, anyway?" Shipwreck asked.

Beach Head leapt up to catch the rim of the hole and pull himself out. "These are supposed to last a long time, Shipwreck. Eight feet is standard." He brushed the dirt from his uniform. "What do you need, Wreck? I thought I told you not to bother me with problems."

"Jeez, touchy aren't ya? I just wondered if everyone was going to come in for lunch."

Beach Head whipped his head up. "They haven't come in yet?" He grabbed his radio and hit the button. "Airtight, this is Beach Head. Where are you?"

A crackled reply came out of his speaker. "I'm working on the river. Where am I supposed to be?"

"Just checking; you didn't come in for lunch."

"You're letting us eat? Gee, thanks, Beach Head."

"Stow it. Dinner is still under debate. Get in and eat something."

Beach Head hit the button again. "Mainframe. You catch that?"

"Yeah. I'd come in but—" The rest of the response broke off there.

Beach Head smacked the radio and tried again. There wasn't any answer from Mainframe at all this time. Beach Head shrugged. "I'm sure he's fine." He turned to Shipwreck. "Go on back to camp. I'm gonna call Cover Girl in, too." He walked off toward where the radio tower was supposed to be put up, and Shipwreck smiled. Beach Head could have called her on the radio too.

Beach Head walked the quarter mile to the little clearing on a hill that they had decided would have the best radio reception. Cover Girl was struggling with a long metal beam, trying to get it to stand upright against a similar one that was already sticking up out of the ground. He walked close enough to reach out and grab the beam above her head, and she jumped when his hand came into view. "Where are you going with this?" he asked her.

She put her full weight into the push, and the beam fell into place. She stepped back and turned around to face him. "I'm putting up the radio tower. What does it look like?"

Examining her work critically, Beach Head replied, "It looks like you don't know how to build a radio tower."

"So assign me something else."

He gave her a stern look. "I'd get in trouble if I switched around our assignments."

She gave an exasperated sigh. "I could fix that generator for you in about ten minutes…"

Beach Head shook his head. "No, Duke gave me that job." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth to argue again. "Give it up. Let's go get lunch."

Shipwreck didn't mind fixing lunch again as it meant he got to eat again, too. The four Joes sat around the glowing embers and downed their meal. Cover Girl looked up after finishing her bowl and asked, "Where's Mainframe?"

Beach Head shrugged. "Don't know. He was probably too far out to bother coming back in for lunch. Got him on the radio, though, so I'm sure he's fine."

Shipwreck glanced at the ranger out of the corner of his eyes. That wasn't entirely true. Mainframe's signal had given out, which meant that he was out of the four mile range of the powerful walkie talkies. "I could go look for him," he suggested.

"Give him a chance, Ship," Beach Head responded. "If he's not back by morning, I'll go get him. He's got a GPS; he can't possibly get lost."

Cover Girl, Airtight, and Shipwreck exchanged a look that plainly said, He's lost. They finished eating and went back to work.

By evening, Beach Head had dug three latrine pits and had dragged over lumber to make crude but serviceable shelters over them. Since the light was fading, however, he decided it could wait for the next day. Pleased with his work, he walked back to camp, expecting to find the others already there.

Camp was deserted. There was no sign even of Shipwreck, who was supposed to be working on the building. Beach Head gave a mental shrug and rekindled the fire. They would come in when they got hungry enough.

Shipwreck looked up into the darkening sky. The outline of the radio tower was barely distinguishable from the clouds behind it, but at least they had finished quite a lot before the light had faded. Tomorrow Cover Girl should be able to tackle the rest on her own. He smiled. They had a whole month to complete their assignments, and this had only taken a day. Things were looking up. He turned to the former model. "So, aren't you glad I came over to visit?"

Cover Girl glanced over at him. "Yeah. Thanks, Shipwreck," she grudgingly conceded. "Not that it looks a whole lot better than what I was doing." She picked up her strewn gear and stuffed it into the pack. "We'd better get back before it's totally dark."

They turned toward the trees. The clearing in the canopy had let quite a bit of the last light of the day fall upon the hill, but the woods were pitch-black. "Uh, I've got bad news for you, Cover Girl," Shipwreck said, pointing toward the trail. "It's already dark in there."

They stood for a moment looking at the imposing line of trees. Finally Cover Girl gave a shake and said strongly, "It's just a normal forest. Nothing to be frightened of."

Shipwreck nodded. "Sure. Animals are more scared of us than we are of them." Neither of them moved.

Something crackled in the undergrowth behind them. Shipwreck started forward, nearly shouting, "Just two large, inedible humans heading back to camp!" Cover Girl gave a nervous glance over her shoulder and followed.

Airtight looked over his work one last time. He was pretty happy with what he had accomplished so far. At the rate he was digging, the stream would be happily burbling near the building within a week. Then he could relax for the rest of the month. Assuming, of course, that Beach Head didn't force him to help with the building repairs. Maybe he should work a little more slowly tomorrow. He nodded. He had four weeks, why not use them? He piled his gear and headed back toward camp and dinner.

Beach Head looked up when Airtight walked into the light of the fire. Airtight looked around and asked, "Did everyone else go to bed already?"

The ranger shook his head, looking slightly worried. "No, they never showed up." He leaned over and took a second bowl of stew. "If I have to spend the day looking for them tomorrow instead of working, they're not going to be happy campers."

Airtight took a bite of his meal. "Send me out," he suggested. "No reason for you to stop working. I promise I'll work even harder when I get back."

"Fine," Beach Head growled. "But everyone better get their work done." He stood and stretched. "Bunch of slackers," he muttered.

Airtight watched him walk away. This did not look good. He hoped the others were alright. They would both be in trouble if they managed to lose more than half the team. Oh, well. He'd find them tomorrow, he was sure.