A/N: Thanks for the review Leona - as we all know, Malcolm is hardly Mr. Diplomatic, so perhaps it was inevitable that he'd say the wrong thing to a paranoid Commander. At least they know that he's not safe to be around now, so they can deal with him. And the Bambis. And finding where the portal will form. Only a short 'to do' list, then!
And thank you to you too, Guest - I'm glad the story is going down well! Fortunately, I can provide you with an update, so I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Fourteen
Flood
The dinner that Elisabeth has provided is, as always, excellent; but no one has much appetite, and the portions lie largely untouched upon plates.
"That was too easy." Jim says, "He stood there, ripped off someone else's speech, and everyone was falling over themselves to replace Taylor with him. I don't get it. He must've had plants."
"That must've been what he was doing the whole time the graffiti was going up, and the notes were being dropped." Chris agrees, equally worried, "He was distracting us with those so we wouldn't notice he was priming people in the background."
"Why would he do that?" Raj asks, "What is it about the Agri teams that makes them so unhappy? It's not like my teams aren't out in all weathers working their asses off - but if they get pissed about it, we just let off steam at Boylan's in the evening."
"There aren't as many men in your teams as there are in mine." Chris reminds him, "Believe me, I've tried all sorts of ideas to get them to air their grievances - and it used to work, but…" he pauses, "D'you know - I can't even remember when that started to change. Bob must've been doing this for a year or more, and I never even noticed."
Everyone exchanges glances, "Any guesses as to why?" Elisabeth asks.
"He's always wanted to be in charge of people." Chris muses, "Every time a managerial role came up, he was the first to try for it. But he's one of those people who just doesn't have anything to back up his belief in himself. I have team leaders who came in with proven track records for managing agricultural practices - and he just wasn't one of them. I can't have someone in charge of orchard management when all he's ever done is casual labour as a picker. He's got no experience of husbandry at all - the only reason he's in the Orchard is because he hasn't got any skills that I can use anywhere else."
"Great." Jim mutters.
"Are you alright, Max?" Elisabeth asks, quietly, "You haven't said anything all evening."
Yseult looks up, "Sorry. It's just - everything about this makes me very uncomfortable - I wasn't kidding about the sieg heil scenario. That sort of thing sends a lot of shudders down my spine. It may have been a couple of centuries ago, but that discomfort is almost wired into me. I think we've never really lost it - not after what followed the last time we heard that sort of thing in our communities."
And she gets it, "It would. Wouldn't it?" she agrees, "That can't be easy."
"Sorry - I don't get what you mean." Raj says.
"I'm German." Yseult explains.
"Ah. I see." He looks a little embarrassed, "Sorry - I didn't realise."
"I know." She dredges up a smile, "I've lost the accent, so most people don't. Some of my relatives were imprisoned in the 1930s for opposing National Socialism. A lot of people don't realise that not all Germans were Nazis - or that not a few lost their lives because of it. It was a horrible time in our history, and to hear someone doing it again makes me nervous. It's a dangerous mistake to think that something like that can't happen again - even on a small scale."
"Well, I think we can guarantee that, whatever he's doing in shed 10, it won't be organising elections." Raj finishes.
"That's a given." Chris agrees.
"The big question now," Guzman says, having listened quietly throughout, "is whether we arrest him, or try to reason with him. Judging by what you've been saying, I think either option's going to go south. If we arrest him, we're oppressive - if we reason, we're weak. If he can keep up the momentum, then whatever we do isn't going to salvage things. Not while we're missing Taylor."
"The only thing I can think of is to talk to our own teams," Yseult adds, "see if we can head them off at the pass, and perhaps turn the tide by having them talk to people who're still on the fence over this. I doubt that Bob's managed to nobble anyone who isn't in your department, Chris, so it may be that we can effect a rearguard action and stop this before it goes too far."
Jim looks at Elisabeth - she doesn't look particularly hopeful, and even Yseult's tone is doubtful. The promise of elections and representation is a temptation that most would struggle to pass up - particularly after so long living in a community managed by the military. That Taylor has no wish to impose overt martial law is immaterial; he's still a soldier, and that's always going to be a problem for some people.
"This is nuts." He says, eventually, "I don't see why people are so down on the whole thing - living here is pretty damn hard, and you need someone strong at the top to keep a handle on things."
"Not always." Raj looks concerned, "When Weaver and his soldiers turned up, we were pretty helpless against them without Taylor. Even Lieutenant Washington couldn't do anything once it became clear that anything she tried would leave people dead - given that she was the next in the line of authority because you were out of the compound with Taylor, Mr Guzman, it was a given they'd trap her like that. There wasn't anyone else who was even approximately 'in charge' so the rest of us were like a load of headless chickens until we got you back from your concussion, Jim."
"Which makes us sitting ducks for someone like this who was in for the long haul." Elisabeth says, "Even though the Commander didn't leave us without a chain of command - it's still 'command', and that means one person in charge. I think it would probably all fall apart once Taylor comes back - but he's got to come back for that to happen, and we don't know how long the expedition's going to be."
"Or how compromised he'll be when he does." Jim adds, a little tentatively. There's no point in ignoring that problem. If Taylor's beyond help by that time, then they're really screwed. God - what if they don't come back? Malcolm and Mira have no idea what's wrong with him - what if he does something that kills them all? He shudders inwardly at the thought.
"If that happens," Elisabeth admits, "Then we'll have no choice but to negotiate; but if Bob doesn't keep his promise and organise elections, then that's going to completely compromise him, too. People are expecting that now - and excuses don't work forever."
"We can talk about this all night." Yseult says, sounding very tired, "But until he makes his first move, we won't have any idea how to counter him. The ball's firmly in his court at the moment, so whatever we do, he could undermine us just because we haven't anticipated what he's going to do next."
Jim looks at the cold remains of his half-eaten dinner. No matter what they do, she's right. Until Bob Parker sets out his stall, they're completely stuck.
Paula looks up at Malcolm, "I think it's a concussion - so he'll be pretty out of it for couple of days, I'm afraid. It's not like the movies - If people really get concussed, they don't get up, shake their head a bit and carry on."
"I'm sorry, Doctor Wallace." Dunham looks worried. "I didn't mean to hit him too hard - I just wanted him to stop."
"I'm glad you did." Malcolm admits, rubbing at his reddened throat a little, "I don't think he was going to let up." He is very shaken - but he is doing all that he can to hide it.
"Can you keep him sedated?" Mira asks, "His behaviour was completely out of character, and it's been erratic since we left. I'm not comfortable with his being in charge if he's going to keep trying to kill people."
"Actually, do you have any diagnostic equipment?" Malcolm asks, almost on impulse, "I'm wondering if there's some sort of illness involved - he's not been right for a long time."
"I've got one of Doctor Shannon's blood scanners." She answers, "We were concerned as to what effect the theta radiation would have on us if there was more than a basic background level. If there's anything in the blood, it'll pick it up."
Malcolm looks a little doubtful; Elisabeth's blood tests hadn't revealed anything; but if they have no means to do a brain scan - which was her intention as soon as she could do it - then perhaps something might show up this time.
"Doctor - there's movement about a mile behind us!" Travers calls back, urgently.
"Damn, they haven't given up." Mira says, crossly, but makes no further comment, leaving the decision to Malcolm.
"Can we fit the commander in one of the rhinos?" he looks a little nervous, but manages not to sound it.
"More or less." Reynolds reports, "If we're quick, we can shift some of the supplies out of number one and move it into number two - we've got more space because we've used up rations."
"Get a team to clear a space in rhino one. We can lay him out in there - make sure there's room for at least Paula - but if you can get one of the team in there as well, I'd prefer that. Bram, Charlie - we need to do the shifting if there are bambiraptors out there; I need as many eyes on them as possible. Dunham - organise a watch team. Rifles on maximum."
Mira nods, approvingly as everyone gets to work, "I'll take another reading and determine a heading, Malcolm. If we're not done when I've finished, I'll pitch in."
Rather than watch as everyone else does the work, even Malcolm assists with the movement of boxes and crates from the first rhino to the second, while the bulk of the security team keep a close eye on the approaching raptors. Without the element of surprise, the creatures are keeping well back, and the task is completed in safety.
Under Paula's supervision, Charlie sets out a sleeping bag and a few pillows, and the Commander is soon settled, "I think it might be worth cuffing one wrist to the bulkhead, Doctor." Dunham adds, looking in, "If he knows what he was doing when he comes to, he'll be glad we did."
Much as he doesn't want to, as it smacks of overkill, Malcolm knows that the Lieutenant is right: "Fair enough - if you could do that?"
"Not too high up - he needs to be able to turn onto his side." Paula says, firmly, "I don't want him choking if he vomits - and he might well do that when he comes to."
This discovery causes a mild outbreak of reluctance on the part of the security team to ride in the rhino, until Reynolds volunteers, "Believe me, I've got a small child in the house - I've been on puke cleanup duty for the best part of a year."
His colleagues' collective relief is almost palpable.
"Savage - can you drive the commander's rover. It's time we made a move - those bambiraptors aren't going to hang back for too much longer." Malcolm sounds remarkably authoritative - though he is still surprised that people are obeying him. Being used to being regarded as annoying but inevitable - like bugs - the concept of being a respected commander is miles away from his version of 'normal'.
"I'll drive." Mira advises, as they return to his rover, "You still look like a man who's been strangled. Besides, I need you watching your rad-meter."
"I thought you said we were three or four days away?" Malcolm looks worried, "If we start detecting it this far out, it won't be safe to approach."
"Maybe so - but it'll start spiking before we get there, so we'll know we're going in the right direction." She counters, "And you'll have an idea when we're going to need hazmat suits. You're the one who said it's going to need stupid amounts of radiation to fire up."
"I'd say 'good point', but I'm too embarrassed." He admits.
The convoy makes good progress over relatively good ground for nearly three hours - though Mira refuses to go faster than thirty miles an hour. By the time Malcolm calls another halt for water, Dunham reports that they've left the bambis behind again - though he's not fool enough to suggest that they aren't still going to keep after them.
"Any news on Commander Taylor?" Malcolm pops his head into the rhino.
"Not yet. He came round, vomited, rambled a bit, and he's gone back to sleep. He'll be like this for another day at least, I'm afraid." Paula reports, then turns as her blood monitor beeps, "Ah - that's the analysis done."
Malcolm tenses. What if there's nothing - or what if there's something?
Paula works her way through the readout that the machine has sent to her plex, "So far so normal…no, hang on."
"What?" Malcolm prompts, nervously.
"There are some proteins here which suggest a parasitic infection of some kind." She frowns, "Doctor Shannon was treating a lot of tick bites a while back - so I'd put my money on it being a form of leptospirosis."
"What does that mean?" Reynolds asks.
"It's a tick-borne infection that can be pretty hard to track down. The only reason I'm suggesting it is because of the spate of ticks we had - so it seems the likeliest candidate - though it's not a form that's familiar to me because it's prehistoric."
"Is it curable?" there is no disguising Malcolm's hope.
"Easily, yes - if you have the right medication and it's not too advanced. The trouble is," Paula looks up, "I don't have appropriate antibiotics here - not all seem to work. Worse - if it's showing up now, and didn't before, then that means that it's pretty advanced. But it certainly explains his erratic behaviour. One of the effects can be neurological deterioration - leading to dementia-like symptoms." She looks down at him again, "If we're going to treat this, we have to go back - and there's no guarantee that we'll be in time. You can only lose so much brain function before it become irreversible."
Malcolm looks a little helpless. Whatever he does, the Commander's condition looks likely only to deteriorate. Does he go on, or back? Besides, there's at least six bambiraptors behind them that they'll have to get past…
"I suggest we go on." Mira says, suddenly, "Hooper had no idea how to protect his men from ticks - and half his battalion came out of the forest into the Badlands with ticks stuck to them. One or two of my men picked up a couple, too - and they went the same way. By the point that they were permanently hallucinating like this, there was nothing anyone could do. I know that there were some promising results from small desert flowers that bloom in the spring in the middle east - and we managed to get an infusion out of some that slowed the symptoms down in my men - Hooper wouldn't touch it, of course - so if we can find some of that same species, then it might work for us and keep things under control until we get back. It's the right season, and if there's been rain recently where we're headed, we could find some."
Paula looks intrigued, "If that's an option, I'd go for it." She agrees, "The only way we can really deal with this is to try and slow things down until we get back to the colony. Given how far out we are, it's our best option."
"It's not a cure, Malcolm." Mira warns, "That's something that only Doctor Shannon will have the wherewithal to do. But if we can at least arrest the deterioration, that means that we can get this done, and get him back with at least a chance of being saveable."
She's not kidding - he can see she's absolutely serious; and, for the first time, he really feels safe to believe her, "In that case, we go on, and we see what we can find. Has everyone had water?"
No one says otherwise.
"Right. Let's move."
To a casual observer, nothing seems different in the colony this morning. Kids are on their way to school, people to their jobs. The stalls are being set out in the market, though Jim can see already that Casey is looking around worriedly. Given his perpetual existence amongst the crowd, he's one of the best observers of the atmosphere of the marketplace, and if he's concerned, then something's definitely up.
With no way to get up to the command centre, or to get down into Boylan's bar, meeting him unnoticed is an awkward enterprise. The last thing that Jim wants is to put him in a difficult position - Casey Derwin is known for his ability to observe, and his contribution to the overthrow of Weaver's invasion was invaluable, regardless of the loss of his legs. With things as they are, they need to keep it that way.
A movement catches his eye, and he sees Josh coming up the steps, a mug of coffee in his hand, "Hi Dad, I thought you'd like some proper coffee given that you're up here at the moment."
"That looks really great." He eyes the mug with enthusiasm, "Come on in."
As soon as the door is closed, Josh's expression becomes urgent, "Boylan wants to know what he can do to help, Dad."
"That's good to know, Josh - but until we know what he's going to do, we don't know how we're going to deal with it. Does he have any thoughts?"
"Only that we need to be careful. He's thinking it's likely that this has been building for months - but he didn't know how far it'd gone. This guy Parker doesn't trust anyone except his cronies, so they didn't try to get him on side."
"Talk to him - see if you can't stage some sort of falling out, so he's not got people thinking that you're acting as a go-between. Then see if he can sweet talk his way into the inner circle. He's our best hope of getting any idea where this is going."
Josh grins, "He thought you say something like that - that's kind of his plan, too."
"Glad we're on the same page."
"We'll go and get on with that - but it'll take a couple of days at least. Otherwise it'll be too obvious."
Jim nods, "Don't rush it. Parker's not doing anything at the moment - but he won't sit on his ass forever, so it might be worth waiting to see what he does - then you can fall out over whether you support him or not. Boylan does - you don't."
"That'll be easy enough - he's got the reputation to do that, so no one'll think it's weird if he does, and I don't. Besides, it's inevitable that I'll side with you, isn't it?"
"Not necessarily - but I'm glad you would." Jim smiles, "Now, get outta here - you've been here long enough."
No sooner has Josh departed than his comm unit beeps, and he groans inwardly. What now?
"Guzman here, Deputy, we have a problem."
"What sort of a problem?"
"Parker's arrived at the barracks, he's demanding that we hand over all weaponry - to be secured elsewhere, apparently."
Jim rolls his eyes ceilingwards, "Oh great. Try not to do anything to provoke him - just see if you can stall him a bit until I get there."
"I'll try, Deputy - but I get the feeling he's looking for a way to be provoked, so whatever I do is gonna set him off. I have to go - he's coming back."
So it's like that, then. Abandoning his coffee, Jim hastens out.
By the time he skids to a halt at the barracks, it's clear that a standoff is well and truly in progress. The soldiers are facing a rather unnervingly large number of men, with Bob Parker at their head directly in front of Guzman.
"It's for the safety of the colony." He says rather menacingly, "We don't need soldiers anymore - there's no army coming to invade us."
"I answer to Commander Taylor, Sir." Guzman says, blandly, "If he orders us to disband, then we'll disband. Until then, we remain as we are."
"And what'll you do if I insist? Shoot me?"
There is a rather unpleasant rumbling of comment from the mob, and it couldn't be clearer that things are on the verge of getting very, very ugly.
"Hold it! Hold it everyone - right now!" Chances are that he's not going to do much good, but at least he has to try, "What's all this about?"
"We're a democracy. We don't need a standing army." Parker says, turning round to glare at him.
Not one that's outside your control. He thinks, "That's the Commander's decision." He says instead.
"And he's not here." Parker finishes, "I have a mandate from the people, so it's now my decision, and I say that the army stands down and disbands. Surrender your weapons."
"And what'll you do with them?" Jim asks, quickly, "They need to be easily reached, and used by trained personnel."
"Against what?" Parker demands.
"Against a carno?" Jim suggests: it's clear that Parker has never left the colony, and knows nothing of the dangers that lie beyond the gates. "Have you any idea how hard it is to kill one of those things?"
"Either you hand over your guns, or you shoot us all down where we stand." Parker ignores his comment, "We're not leaving until you do."
Jim folds his arms, "Not until you tell me what you're going to do with them."
"They'll be placed in secure storage. The population of the barracks will transfer over to agricultural work."
It's impossible: he can't order the soldiers to open fire, and he can't order them to hand over the weapons. It's a sure-fire certainty that those guns won't be going anywhere near secure storage if Parker has his way.
There's only one way round it.
Sighing he exchanges a glance with Guzman, "Okay - have it your way. The security teams disband - but I supervise the secure storage of the weapons. If you want to be involved, you can be a witness, and verify it's been done."
"No. They hand their weapons over to us."
"You want the weapons placed into secure storage, so it doesn't matter who does it. I do it, you watch. You get what you're demanding, and we can move on. Take it or leave it."
Parker is glaring at him, but he's got no choice: he's made it clear that he wants the armoury secured - and Jim is offering him exactly that. The fact that they clearly want control of the guns is immaterial. He is prepared to make concessions if he must; but that is definitely not one of them.
Scowling, Parker relents, "Do it."
Refusing to look intimidated, Jim turns to Guzman, "Bring an inventory, I'll meet you at the armoury - if there are any patrols out, call them back in."
There aren't many weapons signed out, so it only takes about half an hour to return them all, sign them in and lock up the armoury. Parker is watching like a hawk, but Jim makes a big show of entering a new code, which he then shows to Parker. Their new 'leader' doesn't need to know that he can - and will - override it remotely within the hour.
While he is not delighted, Parker is at least vaguely satisfied, but it's a small victory. Jim might have ensured that the man can't establish a personal militia, but it's not over yet. Not by half.
As the day starts to cool, Mira is clearly looking out for somewhere to camp for the night. The landscape around them has changed again, expanses of wide sand flanked here and there by great rising outcrops of rock, leftovers from a time when this dry world was beneath the sea. To Malcolm, they look remarkably similar to desert landscapes in parts of the middle east - not that he ever got the chance to go there - but the entire terrain looks utterly beautiful, deep orange sand from which rise great bulks of sandstone like enormous vessels plying a long-dead sea.
His comm unit crackles, and he lifts it, "Go ahead."
"Dunham here, Doctor - the Bambis are still behind us, and closing in."
"Thanks for telling me. We'll see if we can find an elevated camping ground for tonight."
Mira nods as he signs off, "Those rocks ahead look promising, Malcolm. They'll probably have platforms we can get onto that the bambis can't. We've got ladders so we can get up high - that should keep them away. If we really want to get them off our backs, we can shoot them."
"I'd rather we didn't have to do that."
"Me too - but if it's them or us, I'll choose us every time." She pulls up.
"Why are we stopping?"
"This is a good vantage point, I want to see if there's anything down there worth trying." She steps out of the rover with a long-range viewer and scans the bases of the rocks carefully.
"Anything?" Malcolm asks, as she clambers back behind the wheel.
"Something that looks worth considering." She agrees, "It's down there to the west - it looks big enough to take our shelters and the compactors, and I think there's something nearby that we can park the vehicles on that'll keep them up off the ground. I don't like the cast in the sky."
"What?" now Malcolm is looking up nervously. To his eye, the sky is as clear as it's been from the first day they drove onto the sand.
"There's a storm somewhere." Mira advises, "It's just changing the atmosphere a bit. Given that where we're going is lower than where we are now, I'd like to get us up high to avoid more than just bambis."
Now he gets it. Just because they can't hear thunder, and there's no rain or clouds here, that doesn't mean there isn't any somewhere else, and given how quickly a flash-flood can rise and wreck everything, the safest option is definitely to get up high.
Her chosen location looks ever more promising as they approach: a high, wide platform that will serve as an excellent camping ground, with room for their tents, a mess tent and the compactors, which can be set well back from the sleeping areas. There isn't much firewood about, but there's another shelf a bit higher up that'll work well for some solar panels to charge heating devices, power their water condensers and recharge their vehicle batteries. He quickly checks his rad-meter: ah - yes, there's a reading now, and quite a strong one, too. Not enough to be problematic, but enough to make him reconsider Mira's estimate as to how long it might've taken to get from the arrival site. Perhaps they were there at a hotter time of the year, and the times at which they could safely travel were confined to morning and evening.
"Well?" Mira asked, "I was out, wasn't I?" she's come to the same conclusion, it seems, "Not that it matters - I don't know about you, but this looks like a pretty worthwhile base camp to me."
The platform rises from a narrow cleft between two shafts of a hillside, with a raised platform on the other side that, while less high, is sufficient to hold their vehicles if they park them carefully, as the approach forms something of a road up to it. It's as though the entire place was formed for their convenience by mother nature - just waiting for them to arrive. Access is limited to a narrow passage at the far end of the cleft that appears to drop into a gorge, while their entrance is wider, but defensible.
"Set up fences either side," Malcolm suggests, "That means we only need two people to man them, and everyone else can get our stuff up onto the platform. I'll rig up a pulley system to speed things up." He's glad he packed that, now. "Make the Commander your priority - get him up onto the platform and into a tent first."
It takes the best part of an hour to get everything up onto the main platform, which is quite well sheltered from the sun, and most people get to work on putting up tents, while Dunham supervises the careful arrangement of vehicles opposite, ensuring that Malcolm's rover is at the front, as he'll need it to make forays out into the desert further on.
"They've found us!" Lynott calls after another half hour or so, as darkness is falling.
Mira is sitting very still, as though she is listening, though now and again, she sniffs the air, "Malcolm," She says, after a while, "Get everyone up here, and raise the ladders. It doesn't matter about the fences."
"Why?"
"I'll explain later - just get them up here." Her expression is quite urgent. He knows better than to argue.
After another ten minutes or so, he hears a faint 'pop' sound, and knows that the fence has failed again. Sure enough, after a few tentative minutes, one of the bambiraptors enters the passage, looking about warily. Before long, there are six.
Sitting at the top, Malcolm looks down at them, watching as the group move back and forth, apparently assessing the situation. Behind him, most people are still at work setting up the camp, but he is quite fascinated by their behaviour, and he wants to see what they do while he still has sufficient light to see them - which isn't for much longer.
"Not helping, Malcolm?" Bram asks, grinning.
"Look at them." He says, quietly, "They're assessing every possible route that they could take to get up to us - we're such a tempting prospect that they've come all the way out here in hopes of a feast."
He is not surprised when Charlie comes to join them, though she looks at the creatures below with nervous revulsion, but then she pauses, "What's that noise?"
Bemused, Malcolm looks up, and then he hears it as well, a faint trickling sound that is growing to a burble, as though water is coming through. Now he understands why Mira wanted them up on the platform. Just as she feared, the distant storm has indeed triggered a flash flood - and the raptors below have no idea what's coming.
Desert storms can dump huge amounts of water - and it's clear that this one has been no exception. In a shockingly short space of time, the sound of burbling becomes a rush, and then a roar. And all six raptors are suddenly gone - swept away by the torrent as though they are nothing more than small twigs in a brook.
"Bloody hell…" Charlie has never seen such a thing as this, and even Bram looks shocked, "How did that happen? I didn't hear any thunder."
"You wouldn't." Bram grins, "If enough fell, then it's got to go somewhere."
She leans out slightly, "There's no sign of them. None at…" and then she slips as the rock her hand is resting on crumbles beneath her weight.
Bram snatches at her ankle, grasping it hard - but her weight is pulling him forward, too, and Malcolm grabs him in turn, "Help! Charlie's gone over the edge! Dunham! Quick!"
He can hear the thud of footsteps, and screams from Charlie as she dangles beneath them, but then Bram howls in horror, and the pair of them tumble backwards onto the rock, her left boot in Bram's hand.
"Charlie!" Bram is scrambling to the edge again, looking down frantically - but there's nothing but churning, debris-thick water below, and even the light from the torches show that she hasn't grabbed anything. There's no way anyone could survive that - and no way that they'll ever be able to find her once the flood subsides. God knows how far the gorge stretches on the other side of the cleft.
"She's gone, Bram." It's Mira, as Malcolm is also staring glassily at the horrible mess below, "There's nothing you could've done." Her voice is unstable, as she is fighting to stop him from throwing himself into the water, eager to try and rescue his fledgeling girlfriend, "There's no way you can get her out of there - she's probably half a mile away by now. There's no resisting that current. I've seen it happen before."
"Let go of me!" he's still fighting her, "What if she's hanging onto something? CHARLIE!"
There's no answer, and Dunham's lamps show nothing at the narrow exit point of the gully. There's no escaping it: the waters may have saved them from the Bambiraptors, but the cost to their team has been cruelly high; and it happened in mere seconds.
"Get him to his tent." Mira says, very tiredly, handing Bram over to Reynolds. "Malcolm. Come on - there's nothing you can do."
"Max survived." He says, after a long, long silence, "She survived because someone went in and pulled her out."
"Chances are Max was washed into a pool. There was no way that anyone could've saved Charlie. We would've just lost more people. C'mon. I'll heat some water - make you some tea."
"No thanks - but thank you for offering." He seems unlikely to move for the time being, so Mira leaves him where he is, sitting on the rock and looking down into the darkness.