zombie hurled itself at him； and hit the ground where Greiss had been； setting light to the
undergrowth。 It tried to stand again； but scorched earth was sloughing from it like dead skin；
withering to ash； and the bones of its purloined skeleton were beginning to show through and it
could no longer lift its own weight。
The rest of the squad dropped their packs and tried to scatter； but they couldn’t go far； confined
to the narrowed corridor their knives had cleared。 The same couldn’t be said of the zombies： their
movements were slow and awkward but unhampered； the foliage itself seeming to part for them。
They separated too； each choosing a target。 Lorenzo found himself side by side with Braxton； both
trying to press themselves back into the jungle； thorns tearing at their jackets and their hair； nettles
stinging their hands； as two flaming zombies homed in on them。
He heard a yell； “Aim for their kneecaps！” and he followed Armstrong’s suggestion and tried to
shoot the nearest zombie’s leg out from under it。 He got in four shots before it was upon him。 It
raised a ponderous fist； and Lorenzo wasn’t sure who its target was—him or Braxton—but then the
fist came down towards him； and he ducked； and he tried to scramble past the zombie’s leg； but his
hand recoiled from a flaming footprint in the grass。 The zombie swung around to follow him but a
bone snapped； and its leg buckled； and Lorenzo knew his las…shots had done some good after all。
The zombie was falling—but it managed to turn its fall into a lunge； and Lorenzo couldn’t get
out of the way in time as the creature； now little more than a burning skeleton； plummeted towards
him。 For an instant； he was staring into its hollow eye sockets—piggy ork eye sockets—and they
seemed to be mocking him。 A tusked mouth gaped in a rictus grin。 Lorenzo brought up a foot；
planted it in the zombie’s stomach and tried to fling it over him。 It fell apart with the impact of his
boot； and though the bulk of its mass passed safely over his head； Lorenzo was showered with bones
and mud and burning leaves。
He rolled； to put out any flames that may have taken hold of his clothing。 Then he sprang to his
feet； lasgun in hand； to find that the other zombies had suffered the same fate as his。 The
combination of flames and las…fire had destroyed their cohesion； and they were collapsing at the feet
of the relieved Jungle Fighters。 Two skeletons were relatively intact； and as Lorenzo watched they
were drawn into the ground。 Storm reached one before it could vanish； and drove his gun butt into
its spine； breaking it。 The other—the skeleton of the monster that had attacked Greiss—escaped。
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The Jungle Fighters relaxed and regrouped in the sudden silence； dozens of small fires flickering
around them until the rain extinguished them。
“Think that’s the last we’ll see of them； sergeant？” asked Myers。
“I hope so； Bullseye；” growled Greiss。 He cast a disparaging eye over the discarded flamer。
“Because this thing’s just about on empty。” Myers and Storm packed up the device anyway； in case
they were being watched—although for the first time in two days； none of the Catachans felt as if
they were。
“There were more of those things out there。” Armstrong pointed out to Greiss。 “You only burnt
the front ranks of them。 There were at least a dozen more behind—they escaped into the ground
when they saw the flames。”
“Not to mention all the other orks that must’ve died on Rogar these past few years；” said
Lorenzo。
“And Guardsmen；” said Braxton quietly。
Greiss nodded。 He knew。
“Do you think they can move underground； sergeant？” Braxton asked。 “Or will they have to
resurface where they went down？”
“I don’t know；” said Greiss。 “What’re you thinking？”
“That it might be the right occasion to break out those mines。”
Greiss studied Braxton for a moment； then a grin tugged at his lips。 “I like the way you think；
Guardsman。 Right； troopers； all the shredders you have； hand ’em over。 Patch； you’re with me。 You
saw where some of them walking corpses disappeared； right？ Well； the next time they try climbing
out of their graves； they’ll have a nasty shock waiting for ’em。 Lorenzo； Braxton； you get back to
clearing the way。 Once these babies are laid； we’re going to want to get out of here real quick。”
“Yes； sergeant；” said Lorenzo。
Greiss had half…turned away when a thought occurred to him and he looked back at Braxton。
“Let me see your knife；” he demanded。 Braxton showed him the small； blunt blade he had been
using； and Greiss expressed his contempt for what he called an “Imperial pig…sticker”。
Lorenzo had noticed that he had been wearing two knives today； and he’d guessed where the
second had come from。 Still； he felt his eyes widening as the sergeant drew Woods’ devil claw—at
over a metre long； more a sword than a knife—and handed it to the Validian。 “Here；” he granted；
“you should find it easier going with this。 It’s only a loan； mind。”
Braxton accepted the claw； and turned it over in his hands。 He admired its well…honed edge； and
gauged how light and well balanced it was thanks to its hollow blade； half…filled with mercury。
“Yes； sergeant；” he said； in a voice full of awe。
“I can see now why you think so much of him；” said the Validian； when he and Lorenzo were alone
together。 Greiss and Armstrong were still some way behind； laying mines； and Myers and Storm had
taken this opportunity—while their progress was impeded—to fall back and hunt jungle lizards and
anything else they deemed edible。 Lorenzo and Braxton were left with the repetitive and wearying
work of swinging their knives； forging ahead—though Lorenzo had to admit； it was going a lot
faster now that Braxton was properly equipped。
“Who？” he asked。
“Sergeant Greiss。”
“Of course we do。 He wouldn’t have that rank if he hadn’t earned the respect of all of us。”
“I didn’t realise。 At first； he seemed—I don’t know—surly； I guess。 Distant。 Disapproving。”
“If you’re looking for a soft approach；” said Lorenzo； “I’m afraid Catachan doesn’t breed ’em
like that。”
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“I guess not。 But now I’ve seen Greiss in action—the way he leads from the front； keeps this
squad together； keeps us focused on the mission。 And the way he… I mean； he really does care
about his troopers； even if he doesn’t always…”
“He’d give his life for us；” said Lorenzo simply； “as we would for him。 Your point is？”
“I’m used to sergeants who do things by the book； that’s all。 Same with the commissar。 If
Mackenzie had survived； if he could see Greiss now…”
“If he’d been willing to look；” said Lorenzo pointedly。
“Yes。 I just think； Mackenzie； he was like most of us。 We don’t know till we see for ourselves。 I
can’t imagine what it must have been like for you； for Greiss； for all of you； being brought up on a
world like this。 A deathworld。 But I’m starting to understand； and Mackenzie—I think he would
have understood too； in time。”
“You don’t think he’d have filed his complaint against Old Hardhead？ You don’t think he’d
have had him shot？”
“We’ll never know；” said the Validian。 “Best thing； I think； is to let it lie。 I certainly won’t be
saying a thing。”
Lorenzo was about to agree when he spotted something。 A triangle。 Silver。 He could easily have
mistaken it for an exotic leaf； lying flat against a branch； had the pattern not connected with
something in his memory。 A warning。 Braxton’s knife hand was moving towards it； and Lorenzo
batted it away even before his conscious mind remembered what the pattern represented。 The
triangle wrinkled； as a snake head jerked out from beneath it and made a stab at where the hand had
just been。
“I think we should both talk less；” said Lorenzo； “and pay more attention to where we’re going。”
Braxton nodded。 But it wasn’t long before he spoke up again。 “I just wondered；” he said； “if I
should say something。 To the others。 Let them know。 That they can trust me； I mean。”
Lorenzo smiled tightly。 “They know。 Old Hardhead in particular。” He indicated the devil claw in
Braxton’s hand。 “Trust me； he knows。”
Then Greiss and Armstrong came pelting towards them； sweeping Myers and Storm along in
their wake。
They had barely come to a halt when a series of explosions from behind them rattled the ground
and shook leaves from their branches。 The trap had been sprung。 Greiss’ cruel grin exposed his teeth
and flared his nostrils。 They all waited for a minute； listening for the shuffling footsteps of zombies；
squinting through the rain for the shape of an ork； but there was nothing。
And； a few minutes after that； Braxton found a trap。 A snare in the undergrowth； ready to tighten
about the ankle of an unwary traveller and hoist him into the trees。 A sign； Lorenzo agreed when the
Validian pointed it out to him； that orks had been here。 Crafty orks。 Then he inspected the snare
more closely。 It was fashioned from creepers—but； far than having been knotted together by hand； it
seemed to have grown into its unnatural shape。
“Rogar’s still learning；” he murmured as Braxton used his devil claw to slice through the snare。
“It’s learning from us。”
They forged on well into the night； making up for their late start； until Lorenzo’s body wanted
nothing more than to shut down。 He’d been running on adrenaline； but now even this was spent。 The
acid rain hadn’t let up； and despite his precautions Lorenzo’s face and neck were red raw。 The
wound in his side felt like it was ablaze。 He had begun to wonder if Sergeant Greiss would ever call
a halt to this torture； though of course he would never have complained。
At last； Greiss accepted that even his squad needed rest。 He warned； however； that they didn’t
have much time。 He intended to move out early in the morning—and until then； the Jungle Fighters
would have to keep watch in three shifts of two in case the blue light returned。
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For the first time； Lorenzo didn’t volunteer for first watch。 Greiss detailed Myers and Storm to
that duty； and Lorenzo was grateful to be placed on the third and final watch with Armstrong；
possibly in deference to the fact that both were wounded。 Only as they set up camp—positioning
their plastic sheeting not to collect water tonight but to deflect the rain—did he realise how tired the
sergeant himself looked。
They built the biggest； hottest fire they could； despite the risk that it might be seen。 They did it to
spite what they now saw to be their real enemy： Rogar III。
Lorenzo was asleep almost before his head touched the ground。 But it seemed like his eyes had
only been closed a minute when the shouting began。
He thought he was dreaming again； at first。 That dream from the previous night； before the ork
camp； when dead comrades had pulled him down into the earth to join them。 Only this time it was
real； and it was the earth itself that pulled at him。 Lorenzo was already half…buried； he tried to stand；
to tear himself free； but he couldn’t gain leverage and the pull of the earth only increased。
Quicksand？ He was sinking； though the ground had been perfectly firm when he had lain down
on it。 He fought the urge to lash out； because he knew he would only go down fast