skull must have cracked。 Then he felt the flowers give way； their roots torn clean out of the
zombie’s earthen flesh。
Lorenzo was falling back； and he couldn’t shift his trapped legs to steady himself； but he threw
out his arms and found the zombie’s legs； and he hugged them tightly； holding on for his life。 This
had the useful side…effect of unbalancing the zombie； which reacted too slowly； toppled； and
splashed into the quagmire on its back。 Lorenzo was scrabbling； clawing at its cold； wet mass； using
it like a log in a river。 He climbed onto it； dragging his legs after him； he pulled himself along the
zombie’s length； yanking dead leaves from the vegetation that coated it； simultaneously trampling
the zombie further down。
He hauled himself upright as the zombie’s head sank underground。 He used its chest as a
springboard； pushing off it； leaping for the edge of the clearing。 He landed with both feet in the mud；
and was instantly buried up to the waist again； but as the top half of his body fell forwards； he was
able to grab at a branch and； like Storm before him； use it as a lifeline。
He glanced over his shoulder； to see that the zombie was thrashing about； resurfacing and
beginning to stand—and that another was heading his way。 There wasn’t time to free himself
completely from Rogar’s grip。 He settled instead for dragging his backside up onto the dry ground
beyond the clearing； his legs still in the mud but his shoulder hooked behind a tree； bracing him；
allowing him to resist the suction force from below。 He plunged his fingers into his lasgun barrel
and scooped out as much mud as he could。 Then he dug the butt into his shoulder； aimed for the
second zombie and fired。 The gun whined and let out a feeble light。 The second zombie lurched
85
closer。 Lorenzo pumped the trigger again； and on his fourth attempt； the lasgun finally coughed up
dirt and struck true。
He had aimed for the knee again； it took four shots to penetrate through to the bone； and then the
oncoming creature collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut； and disappeared below the surface。
By that time； the first zombie had somehow managed to right itself and was bearing down on
him。 This one took six shots； and fell less than a metre from him； hands reaching for him。 He
thanked the God…Emperor for the creatures’ sluggish reflexes： if this one had only shifted its weight
onto its good leg； it could have stayed upright long enough to wrap its fingers around his throat。
In no immediate danger now； Lorenzo took a second to scan the battlefield。 Myers and
Armstrong were engaged in their own struggles； each beginning to gain the upper hand—but
Braxton was in trouble。
Three zombies had surrounded the Validian； overpowered him； and pushed him headlong into
the mud。 His face was buried； he couldn’t breathe。
Greiss had seen what was happening； and was just finishing up with his own opponent。
Astonishingly； he had whittled into it with his Catachan fang until he had exposed its spine； which
he had then seized and yanked right out of its body。 He tossed the wretched creature’s remains
aside； with a sneer； and began to wade towards Braxton； but the mud was up to his stomach and his
progress was slow。
Storm was firing in from the sidelines； and as Lorenzo watched； the first of Braxton’s attackers
fell beneath his las…fire at last。 Storm switched targets； and Lorenzo joined him； their shots
converged on the back of the second zombie’s knee and burnt through it in seconds。
The third and final zombie swung around to greet Greiss with a hefty punch； which the grizzled
sergeant dodged。 His face was level with the creature’s stomach—with its greater bulk； it looked
like it could crush him with its thumb—but he drove the butt of his lasgun into its leg and； to
Lorenzo’s amazement； shattered it。 The bone must have been old and brittle。 But this zombie’s
reflexes were better than most。 Instead of falling； it swayed on one leg； and looked down to where
its other leg hung loose； still attached to its body by muddy tendrils。
Then Greiss laid into it with his gun butt again； roaring like an animal； and slowly； as if it was
fighting gravity itself； the zombie fell and was gone。 Greiss’ path to Braxton was clear—but the
Validian was gone now； too。
There was nothing Lorenzo could do for him； no chance of reaching him。 He shifted his
attention to the zombies still standing； supporting Myers and Armstrong’s efforts with his las…shots。
But his eyes kept flicking to the patch of mud where Braxton’s head had gone under； and he found
himself holding his breath as Greiss propelled himself towards that spot and plunged his hands into
the shifting earth。
Myers was free of ork zombies； but his struggle had cost him。 He was sinking fast。 Storm leapt
back into the quagmire； and waded to his comrade’s aid。 He reached Myers and gripped him beneath
the arms。 He tried to drag him free； but for every two centimetres the pair gained； the quagmire
reclaimed one； and Myers was buried up to his neck now。
Lorenzo concentrated on freeing his own legs。 When the planet let go； it did so suddenly； and he
fell back into a bush and lost vital seconds disentangling his vest from its thorns。 He raced around
the edge of the quagmire； to the point at which Storm had re…entered it。 He could reach him from
here； by placing one foot in the mud while leaving the other braced behind him。 He caught Storm’s
reaching hand； and pulled at it with all his strength。
Across the clearing； to Lorenzo’s relief； Greiss pulled Braxton； coughing and spluttering； to the
surface—but the effort had cost him； and now they were both treading mud； only their heads visible；
helpless。
Armstrong’s las…bolts despatched the final zombie； and he was in trouble now too； he wasn’t too
far from the edge； but with his useless arm he had no way of reaching it。 Lorenzo gritted his teeth
86
and pulled harder； and at last Storm stumbled onto the bank beside him； and they took one of Myers’
arms each and dragged him up after them。
Myers was trying to bring something with him。 He strained and pulled； and the earth released its
grip on his muddied backpack。 Lorenzo had lost his； along with his jacket and his bandolier。 Myers
was rummaging in the pack before his legs grinned
behind his black beard as his comrade produced a rope。 He must have woven it himself from plant
roots； after they’d lost the others at the river。
Myers made the throw； of course。 The end of the rope slapped into the mud a centimetre or two
from Greiss’ head； but was absorbed before he could free an arm to reach for it。 Both Greiss and
Braxton strained to move their submerged limbs； to find their sinking lifeline； and Braxton’s chin
went under and he spluttered again as he took a mouthful of earth。 Then； a tense moment later； the
Validian yelled out； “Got it！” and Myers and Lorenzo pulled for all they were worth。
Storm； in the meantime； had found a branch that jutted out over Armstrong’s position。 He
climbed up to it and swarmed along it； the branch bending beneath his weight。 Armstrong raised his
good arm； and their fingers strained to find each other。
At last the struggle was won； and six muddy； exhausted soldiers lay on dry land and looked
mournfully at the swamp that had been their campsite； thinking of the precious kit they had lost to
its embrace； and of how much more they could have lost。
They had just three half…filled water bottles between them now； Lorenzo’s； Storm’s and
Armstrong’s having gone down with their backpacks。 The flamer could never be assembled again
without the parts Storm had been carrying。 They were just grateful that Myers still had the power
packs for their lasguns。
But Lorenzo felt most sorry for Armstrong； because his devil claw knife had been snatched from
him。 The veteran Jungle Fighter looked devastated about that； far more hurt than he’d been by his
shoulder injury。 Braxton offered him Woods’ old devil claw； but he just shrugged the Validian
away。 It wasn’t the same。
“I hate to say this；” announced Greiss； “but we need to move on before we can bed down again。”
“You think there’s anywhere safe on this damned planet？” asked Armstrong； sullenly。
“I’m gambling it takes a good while for Rogar to turn an area like this into a bog；” said Greiss；
“else why would it have waited till now？ In future； we’re just going to have to move between two or
three campsites a night； grab our sleep a few hours at a time。” They all saw the sense in that； though
it was a disheartening proposition。
In the event； they moved only a few hundred metres before Greiss gave the order to start
clearing the ground again。 Lorenzo and Armstrong took their watch while the others slept。
Armstrong was poor company； sitting on a tree trunk and stared at his own feet。 Lorenzo；
fortunately； had slept long enough to feel relatively refreshed。 He hoisted the protective plastic
sheets over his comrades’ heads by himself； though shortly after he had done so the rain subsided at
last。
A few silver…backed snakes hissed in the undergrowth—but to Lorenzo’s relief； the rest of the
night passed without incident。
The next morning； the Jungle Fighters had an unexpected visitor。
The figure stepped out of the trees as they were making to move out—and instantly； six lasguns
were drawn and aimed at it。 The figure made no threatening move； however。
Lorenzo peered at it curiously。 It was humanoid in shape； about his height and build—and to an
extent； it resembled one of the ork zombies； fashioned as it was from Rogar’s vegetation。 But this
figure was wearing a jacket woven from varicoloured leaves； and a branch slung across its back
where the Jungle Fighters kept their lasguns； and it even seemed to have a face； wide…eyed and
grinning； though this was just a pattern formed—accidentally？—by the twisted stalks and plants that
87
ran through its rough； sculpted head。 A thatch of straw was perched atop that head； like a mop of
blond hair。
It grinned at the Jungle Fighters for a minute or more； as they watched it warily。 Then the figure
let out a bizarre； inhuman noise： a series of guttural clicks and warbling vowel sounds。 Then it
turned； and with a clumsy