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whistled toward him again； and the flat of its blade struck a resounding blow against his wrist；
splintering bones； and his knife flew out of his grasp。
It was spinning towards the lava； and Lorenzo leapt after it without thinking； dropping his
lasgun； catching the knife with his off…hand in midair； twisting to avoid a scalding death himself。 He
landed on his back； winded as the ground rose up to meet him。 The warboss lunged； and Lorenzo
barely brought up a foot in time； tried to kick the warboss away； but the ork batted it aside。 Then he
was on Lorenzo； the sharp points of his tusks almost touching the Catachan’s face； dripping drool
onto his cheek and blood from his punctured eye； and Big Green’s axe haft was pressed down across
Lorenzo’s throat； crushing his windpipe。
All Lorenzo could do was take that haft himself； try to force it upwards； away from him； but the
warboss was too strong； and he could feel the breath being choked out of him。 His lungs were
empty； burning； and his head felt light。 He held on； because every fraction of a second he could keep
Big Green here dealing with him was a further delay to the warboss’ escape。 Lorenzo may have
failed to kill this monster； but he could be the hero who engaged it in single combat； kept it trapped
long enough for the earthquake to finish it。 A forlorn hope； he realised。
Then； suddenly； the pressure on his throat was released； and Lorenzo tried to see what was
happening； but without him knowing it his eyes had closed and he couldn’t open them because they
were prickling with tears and his entire body was preoccupied with just trying to breathe。 His
stomach convulsed as he heaved in air； and spluttered on its gritty texture。
By the time he could look again； he knew what he would see： Sergeant Greiss； wrestling with
the warboss。 Greiss had landed a few good blows； too—the warboss had a livid scar on his cheek to
add to the one Lorenzo had left across his eye。 But he was fighting on； as if nothing would ever stop
him。
Lorenzo’s legs were too weak to stand； so he contented himself with hitting his opponent low；
the combination of his efforts and Greiss’； and Big Green’s missing foot； flooring the big ork again。
They piled on top of him； fists and knives flying； but they couldn’t still his axe—and its blade
swung and impacted with Greiss’ head； cleaving his miner’s helmet in two； cutting into his scalp
and； with a resounding clang； hitting the metal plate just below the surface。 Greiss fell back； blood
matting his grey hair as Lorenzo used the momentum of the warboss’ swing against him； and with a
tremendous； last…ditch heave； tipped and rolled him into one of the narrow streams。 The ork leader
was facedown in the lava but still thrashing； and Lorenzo placed his good hand on the back of the
warboss’ head and； releasing a strangulated roar of utter hatred from the back of his throat。 He
pushed down…
Then he was scrambling towards Greiss； though he didn’t know what he could do for him。 The
sergeant was bleeding freely； but all Lorenzo could see in his face was a malicious satisfaction at the
death of an enemy。 And maybe； when he looked at Lorenzo； a hint of approval？
Then； a sudden change of expression—a warning glint in Greiss’ eyes。 Lorenzo whirled around
and the warboss was standing； molten lava streaming from his face； most of the skin burnt away； but
he was coming at them again…
Greiss was firing at him； pumping las…round after las…round into the warboss’ chest； and Lorenzo
didn’t think it would be enough—but then there was las…fire from behind Big Green too； and a
bedraggled； soot…blackened figure emerged through a haze of dust—and even as the ork leader
reached his targets； as he made to bring his axe down； it was one of Guardsman Braxton’s rounds
that finally sizzled through his skull and put out the feral light in those eyes once and for all。
Lorenzo had thought he’d feel different when the ork leader died at last。 Lie had expected to
feel… something。 Relieved； perhaps。 Or dismayed； that another man had delivered the killing blow。
Somehow； he had thought mere would be silence； and time to reflect—but as another great chunk of
rock was dislodged from the cavern roof to thunk into the ground beside him； he knew it was not to
be。
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Braxton helped Lorenzo to his feet； and they both turned to give Greiss a lift； but the grizzled
sergeant waved them away stubbornly。 “We’ve got to get out of here； sergeant；” insisted Braxton as
Lorenzo retrieved his gun and slapped a new pack into position。 “This place won’t hold up much
longer。 Most of the orks have already run for it。 Where’s Patch？”
Lorenzo shook his head。 “Bullseye and Wildman？”
“Dead；” said Greiss； flatly。 “Me and Braxton； we stumbled across their bodies on our way in。
Looks like they found Big Green before we did； more’s the pity。”
“I’m sure they put up a good fight；” said Lorenzo； almost automatically。 “I’m sure if it hadn’t
been for them； if they hadn’t weakened—”
“Time enough for eulogies later；” growled Greiss。 “Looked like the greenskins were mostly
headed back up to the clearing； but we found another way out。” He nodded in the direction from
which he and Braxton had appeared。 “We take that； chances are we’ll run into less opposition along
the way。 That is； if the whole tunnel hasn’t collapsed by now。”
“Let me lead the way；” said Lorenzo。
Greiss snarled。 “Like hell！ In case you hadn’t noticed； trooper； I am not dead yet—and I’m still
in charge of this squad； what’s left of it。”
“That’s not what I meant； sergeant。 I’ve been having a… a… I don’t know how to describe it；
some kind of an instinct about the quake。 Like I know how the earth’s going to move； where it’s
safe to step； where…” Lorenzo tailed off； embarrassed at how implausible the words sounded out
loud。
But Greiss just regarded him coolly for a moment； then nodded and grunted； “Step to it； then。”
Lorenzo set off sure…footedly； affecting confidence while inwardly he half…expected his luck to
run out at any moment。 Then； there it was again： that indefinable feeling； that tug in a certain
direction。 Greiss indicated a tunnel mouth ahead of them； but Lorenzo balked at a direct approach；
and picked out a circuitous path towards their goal instead。 His caution was rewarded as a lava
stream bubbled and spat its contents straight up like a geyser。
The Jungle Fighters hugged the wall； keeping just out of range of burning droplets； until they
reached the tunnel and stumbled gratefully into its stale but cooler embrace。 After that； their
progress was a little easier； because there were no lava streams up here and because they could lean
on the walls for support。 To some extent； anyway。 A particularly violent shudder pinballed the trio
from one side of the passageway to the other and back； and made Greiss curse and demand to know
why Lorenzo hadn’t felt that one coming。
Darkness enveloped them； and Lorenzo snapped on his helmet light； which luckily still worked。
They passed several junctions； with Greiss bellowing directions at each one—and they found their
path strewn with crushed ork bodies； and had to squeeze their way around more than one partial
cave…in。
It was Braxton who first voiced the feeling that they were being followed； though when Lorenzo
shone his light behind them they could see nothing。 Greiss urged them on； and eventually he
directed them into an upward…leading passageway that was smoother and straighter than the others；
obviously worked； like the one they had followed down from the clearing。
The first set of wooden struts they came across had slipped and buckled but； miraculously； held；
they climbed past them gingerly。 The second had broken into splinters； but fortunately the roof was
staying up by itself。
It was just past the third that their luck ran out。
Lorenzo heard the orks ahead of them before he saw them。 There were a half…dozen of them；
jabbering in panic as they tried to dig through a pile of rubble that had completely blocked the
tunnel。 They were succeeding mostly in getting in each other’s way： as the Jungle Fighters watched；
one ork accidentally embedded its pickaxe in the skull of another。
They were sitting ducks for a volley of las…fire； the narrow confines ensuring that even through
the quake most of the Jungle Fighters’ shots found a target。 The orks； in turn； didn’t seem to be
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armed—and； taken by surprise； they jostled with each other in their haste to close with their
attackers； more than one of them stumbling in the melee and being manhandled aside。 A single
greenskin made it within knife range—and this； Lorenzo made short work of with his Catachan
fang。
As he yanked his blade out of the ork’s chest； he stumbled； brushed the tunnel wall with his bare
arm and recoiled from its unexpected heat。 Greiss had felt it too； and he gave Lorenzo a quizzical
look。 “Lava；” he confirmed。 “It’s alright—it hasn’t built up enough pressure yet to cause a burst。
We’ve got a few minutes。”
Greiss nodded； and asked； “How far to the surface？”
“Almost there。 Just the other side of that cave…in。”
“Guess the orks had the right idea； then；” said Greiss—and the Jungle Fighters rummaged amid
the corpses of their enemies to retrieve their pickaxes and spades； and set about the blockage with
gusto and a great deal more efficiency and teamwork than the greenskins had demonstrated。
Lorenzo was worried about Greiss。 He had retied his bandana like a bandage over his head
wound—but the bleeding showed no sign of abating； red rivulets rolling down his cheek。 None of
this seemed to lessen the zeal with which he swung his pickaxe； but then Lorenzo had learned to
expect no less from him。
“Looks like you were right； Braxton；” Greiss murmured—and Lorenzo swung around； and this
time his light beam did pick out something。 A lot of somethings； no longer bothering to hide。
Ork zombies； shuffling up the tunnel behind them。 They could only fit two abreast with their
broad shoulders； but their ranks extended further back than Lorenzo could see—and； at their heart：
the chilling sight of an even bulkier creature that could only have been the warboss himself； his skull
half…caked with mud but stripped to the bone beneath this。
There was still too far to dig； no way they could escape in time。 There were too many sources of
fresh corpses for Rogar to use against them； even discounting those orks that had been melted in
lava or whose bones had been shattered。 Lorenzo found himself averting his gaze from the
oncoming army—not through fear of their strength and numbers； but lest he glimpse the familiar
shape of a lost comrade among them。
“Looks like this is it；” growled Greiss。
“No； sergeant；” protested Lorenzo—though he knew it was hopeless too。 “Not now。 Not when
we’re so close！”
“I didn’t mean the end for all of us。 Just me。 About damn time！”
“What… what are you…？” Lorenzo began—but Greiss hefted his pickaxe； and Lorenzo saw that
gleam in his eyes； saw where it was focused； and suddenly he knew what the sergeant was planning。
And； impulsively； he laid a restraining hand on his shoulder and he said； “Let me。”
“What’s wrong with you； troo