Recoil

6

Standish stormed off towards the fire trenches as if he knew where he was off to.

‘Stop!’ Sam pointed at the one with the firing cable going into it. ‘You’re in there with me. Nick, you take the left flank.’ He swung round and pointed at Bateman. ‘You’ve got the right. Crucial, you know where you’re going.’

A rumble of thunder rolled up the valley, followed this time by a crackle of lightning on the horizon. The storm would be with us soon. It was like last night’s deluge had decided to come back and give us a second helping.

Standish and Bateman headed to their designated fire trenches. I wasn’t surprised that Bateman went so obediently. He might be an arsehole, but he was still a professional. He knew that Sam knew what he was doing, so he didn’t need to question his orders. And that was also why he hadn’t liked Standish zapping his own men. It had nothing to do with morality: what Standish had done was bad drills, pure and simple.

Sam started towards Sunday’s tent and I got level with him. ‘What about Silky and Tim?’

‘They’re in with you. I’ll take Sunday.’

His tone was very straight, very clear-cut. We could have been back in the team job all those years ago. He held out his hand for the firing device. I took it off my shoulder. ‘I had to get a second reel. The two cables together haven’t been tested.’

He nodded. ‘I guess I’ll be doing that soon enough.’ He put the strap over his shoulder and walked away.

‘Sam, I need mags. Just got the one.’

He gestured towards the tent nearest the cooking pot. ‘There’ll be a few in there. I’ll get Crucial to help you with Tim.’

I ducked through the flaps. It was dark inside. She was sitting in a canvas director’s chair by his head. They both looked up expectantly. His legs were still bound together, and blood leaked from the dressings. It was about to get worse.

I smiled at him. ‘Got any painkillers in that bag of yours?’

He nodded.

‘Well, you’ll need them, mate. I’m going to move you into the trenches. You’ll be safer there.’

Tim wasn’t stupid. ‘They’ll be coming soon, won’t they?’

‘Yep.’

‘I’ve seen it before. What about the villagers and my guys down there?’

‘They’re all right. They’re still in cover. That’s the best we can do.’

A few metres away on the other side of the canvas, Standish exploded. ‘What the fuck’s going on? Get him out of here!’

Silky turned her head. ‘Who’s that?’

‘No one.’ I explained about the other patrol getting into a contact, and that there were just two survivors. I left out the arsehole bit.

Silky massaged her temples with the tips of her fingers. ‘Those poor men . . .’

Tim gripped her arm to comfort her, but looked at me. ‘Nick, I’m sorry I was such a tosser when we first met. I didn’t realize the full extent of the situation. You were absolutely right – it was best to get everyone in here. I’m sorry.’

Tosser? It was the first time I’d heard anyone use the word since the time I should have been at school. It sounded strange hearing it again, especially here, now. ‘Not a problem . . .’

‘They’re going to hit the mine hard, aren’t they?’

‘That’s what they’re here for.’

He writhed with frustration. ‘I feel useless. I want to do something. Anything . . .’

Crucial came into the tent. He stood right alongside me, and he stank. We probably all did. ‘The best thing you can do to help us is grab hold of that cot of yours.’

Crucial and I moved either side of him.

‘One, two, three – up!’

We lifted, and he did as he’d been told.

We started to shuffle out, and he had to fight the pain.

I looked down. ‘I told you to keep taking those pills, didn’t I?’

At least I got a smile out of him.

Silky followed, carrying the sail bag. By the time we got out of the tent, Standish was in his trench. Sam was still standing in the fan-shaped backblast channel, holding Sunday by the rope.

The next trench was manned by Crucial, then Bateman to the far right. He was already setting up. He had his weapon in the shoulder, checking his arcs and different fire positions, making sure he had good muzzle clearance.

Standish was already making damn sure he presented as small a target as possible, but that didn’t make him any less angry. ‘More? Who the fuck are that lot?’

I jumped in before Sam had a chance to: ‘We’re that coffee shop for the stupid you were talking about. We’ve even got the villagers down there in the valley, Sam’s kids too. And you know what? It makes your half-arsed little gangfuck suddenly seem worthwhile.’

We kept shuffling. Fuck him, what was he going to do? Give me the sack?