Edmund Cooper - Transit

He thought of Christine. And then he thought of the deadly coldness of all the years without her. Maybe Barbara was right. Maybe there was a kind of remembering that was itself a vice. Maybe it had to do with pedestals and perfection—and the bitter, lonely happiness of creating an image that was too good to be true. He had tried to be honest—but what price honesty when you were looking for a convincing excuse for failure. Maybe Barbara was more right than she thought.

‘So all God’s chillun got vices,’ he said lightly. ‘Well, it looks as if we are going to have to translate a few of them into virtues—and the only worthwhile virtues in this particular dream world are the qualities that make for survival.’

The night passed uneventfully. They took the watches in pairs—first Avery and Barbara, then Tom and Mary. There was a further innovation, unanticipated and by mutual consent. They went to sleep in pairs also. Not lovers, hardly as even as men and women. Almost as tired children, seeking the inexplicable comfort of huddling close together.

It was Tom and Mary who created the precedent. Avery had told them they could have about three hours before it became their turn for duty.

‘Pity,’ Tom had said, looking at Mary. ‘We were just getting to know each other Well, I suppose it will keep till tomorrow.’

‘It doesn’t have to,’ said Mary, surprisingly. ‘One good thing about all this is that none of us has to conform to silly standards any more.’

Tom smiled and held out his hand. ‘Only let there be honour among thieves Ready, Mary?’

‘Yes, Tom.’

They went into what had formerly been ‘the men’s dorm’; and for a little while their subdued voices could be heard. Then there was silence.

Avery saw that Barbara was crying quietly. Or not crying, perhaps, but just letting tears flow down her cheek. ‘Now what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing is wrong, Richard.’ Her voice was quite calm. ‘It’s just that I think we are suddenly starting to be people. We weren’t people until today. We were all trying to give puffed up performances—and all the time we were hamming our lines Now I think we are trying to find ourselves—and each other. In one way, it’s a bit frightening. But it’s good. It really is good.’

‘I know what you mean,’ said Avery. ‘A few hours ago, Tom wanted to crawl into a deep hole, and we were all being superior…. It’s odd how things change…. I’m beginning to think that whoever wrecked the camp today did us one hell of a service.’

Barbara shivered. ‘One is enough. I just hope they don’t try to do us any more good turns.’

When the time came for the second watch, Barbara and Avery went to sleep together with complete lack of self-consciousness. There was no disturbing surge of passion, only thankfulness and an odd sensation of relief. They might have been sharing the same bed for years.

Tom did not waken them until breakfast was ready. Breakfast consisted of fruit, water and what Tom enthusiastically described as venison-bacon, grilled on sticks, delicious and satisfying. Breakfast was taken shortly after dawn. It was going to be a long and busy day.

‘Leader of the expedition,’ said Tom, ‘permission to speak.’

‘Granted,’ said Avery with a grin. ‘But just remember that my term of office expires today. In view of my record, I doubt that I shall seek re-election.’

‘Going off further at this unoriginal tangent,’ remarked Tom, ‘somebody has to be the whipping boy when things go wrong. Myself, I don’t much care for the privilege. It’s far more satisfying to be able to blame everything on dear old Richard. I hereby propose your re-election for a further and indefinite term of office.’

‘Seconded,’ said Barbara.

‘Carried,’ laughed Mary.

‘My one satisfaction,’ said Avery, ‘is that you will all live to regret it…. Now, Tom, what’s on your mind?’

‘Life insurance. I want to sell you a policy. When I was out hunting yesterday, I spotted the absolutely perfect natural fort. It’s on the beach about half a mile away. A damn big lump of rock about ten feet high, almost circular, and it’s even got grass on top. I know. I climbed it to have a look.’

Avery was interested. ‘About how wide?’

Tom shrugged. ‘Hard to say, really. Maybe twenty-five feet. There’s only one snag as far as I can see.’

‘What’s that?’

‘No water.’

‘That’s a big snag. You didn’t prospect for any?’

‘Didn’t have time. I was too busy doing an imitation of a pointer.’

‘Well, we shall have to take a look, that’s all. One thing is sure, we’d be idiots to try to stay here…. Oh, and while I’m thinking about it—edicts. Nobody, but nobody goes anywhere alone from now on. We either operate in pairs or as a group.’ He turned to Mary and Barbara. ‘And while Tom and I inspect Castle Perilous, you two stay put. Keep the gun loaded and ready. If you get worried about anything, fire two shots in rapid succession. If any Greek Gods try to fraternize, let them have it dead centre—unless there are more than four. In which case, surrender with all possible grace and think nice thoughts…. That’s about all, I think.’

‘It’s enough,’ said Barbara grimly.

The two men departed. They each took a knife and a hatchet. As they walked along the shore, Avery had the disturbing and irrational feeling that he was crossing into enemy territory.

Tom’s solid piece of life insurance was in the almost mathematical centre of a small bay. They reached it without seeing any living things at all—except for a couple of noisy sea-birds.

The piece of rock was just as he had described it. It lay a yard or two above the high-water line and about thirty yards from the trees. There was one point where it was fairly easy to climb, and even there the footholds were not very large.

‘If we decided on this place,’ said Tom, when they had scrambled to the top, ‘we shall have to make a ladder.’ Avery felt the layer of sandy turf. It wasn’t bad. It wasn’t bad at all. The whole rock was rather like a very shallow saucer with a ragged lip all the way round. But it was well drained, because there was a slight slope to seawards; and countless rainfalls had worn a small channel through the rocky lip.

‘This is perfect,’ announced Avery. ‘All we need now is a water supply.’

They climbed down and set about finding one. It took them the best part of an hour, and the nearest part of the stream was almost quarter of a mile away and about a hundred yards inland. Getting water was going to be a wearisome business; but the relative impregnability of the rock outweighed the disadvantages of such a remote water supply.

‘We’ll move,’ said Avery finally. ‘Unless we find anywhere better—and I very much doubt it—this can be the permanent base. We’ll just have to organize an armed water-carrying patrol.’

‘Jesus H.!’ said Tom. ‘I don’t much fancy lugging those blasted trunks all this way. They’ll have to be hauled to the top by ropes.’

It took them—all four of them—the rest of the day to move to Camp Two. Mary and Barbara made several journeys with the smaller items of equipment. They even managed to carry the tents between them—one at a time. But they were not much help with the trunks.

Meanwhile, Tom and Avery, manhandling the trunks foot by foot, developed magnificent blisters and exceedingly short tempers. The sun was setting by the time they hauled the last one to the top of the rock. There was no fire—nobody had had time to collect any wood—and there was nothing to eat, for the same reason. However, with considerable foresight, Avery had insisted on getting in a supply of water before the move had started. And at midday they had gorged themselves on portions of the ‘deer type’ before leaving its carcass to rot at Camp One.