Free Fault Line by Chris Ryan Page B

is.’
    Alex turned round and saw his precious knife. He crunched back to her. Her face was saying, All my stuff’s gone but at least you’ve got your knife. He was going to be apologizing for this catastrophe for quite some time.
    Hex went first with the chainsaw. The protective clothing was zip-on orange over-trousers and a top – two layers of fabric with chain mail sandwiched in the middle. They felt heavy, the kind of garments you’d wear in cold weather. As soon as he fastened them he felt his sweat glands gush into overdrive. He put on the goggles and gauntlets and pulled the starting cable on the saw. First time it didn’t start. Second time it did, with a roar like a motorbike, and settled to a steady chugging. He pulled the trigger that activated the cutters and the chain with its vicious teeth became a blur. He put it against the spindly topmost branches of the tree and the blade sank through.
    Alex took the collapsible water containers and went to fill them. Li, Amber and Paulo rigged a shelter over the stretcher with a poncho from one of the surviving bergens. The sun was beating down viciously on the area they’d cleared and although the robber’s dark skin could probably stand it, he’d get dehydrated quickly.
    As Paulo unfolded the poncho the robber berated him – as usual. But Paulo reckoned this time he did have a point. ‘Don’t blame me,’ he said. ‘Blame the blond guy.’
    Li hacked wood into stakes with the machete and passed them to Amber. ‘Anyone any idea what language he’s speaking?’
    Amber drove the stakes into the ground. ‘Nothing I’ve ever come across.’ She was the linguist of the group. ‘But the ancient languages are still used in remote areas. Even Mayan – which was used by the people who built the tomb.’
    Alex came back and set down two water containers the size of large beach balls, then picked up another two.
    Paulo grinned at him. ‘Our patient’s just put an ancient Maya curse on you.’
    Once Hex had cut up part of the tree, they started to clear wood. They used the remaining two ponchos, sweeping the smaller pieces of wood onto them and carrying them like a stretcher. They took load after load.
    After a couple of hours Hex was exhausted. His arms ached. Whenever he pulled the saw away after severing a branch his shoulders quivered as though he’d received an electric shock. His mouth was dry with the taste of wood; sweat dripped down the inside of his chain-mail protection and sawdust stuck to him like feathers on tar.
    The others were flagging too. They’d got to thicker branches, and the wood didn’t fit on the ponchos so easily. Amber and Alex tried to load one piece but it was such an awkward shape they couldn’t manoeuvre it. Amber threw down the poncho, hooked the branch over her shoulder and tried to drag it away. It was unbelievably heavy. Alex got under the other end and together they staggered away with it. Who would have thought wood could weigh so much?
    Li and Paulo weren’t faring much better. Li’s hands were slippery with sweat and raw from the rough bark of the tree.
    Finally Hex turned off the chainsaw and threw off the goggles. His arms and ears felt like the saw was still going. ‘Anyone else want a go?’
    Amber stopped where she was, breathing hard. ‘What is that noise? Oh I know. It’s silence.’ She swallowed to take away the dryness in her mouth. ‘Is doing that more fun than doing this?’
    Hex peeled open the zips of the chain-mail jumper and trousers and let them fall off him while he stood. He savoured the sensation of cool air on his sweaty camouflage gear. ‘Yes, terrific,’ he said. ‘I’m loving every minute.’
    ‘Actually, guys,’ said Paulo, ‘we’ve got about forty-five minutes before sundown. We’d better get our camp sorted.’
    Alex looked down at the tree. The topmost branches had gone but they barely seemed to have made an impression on the massive trunk and sturdy lower branches.
    Amber peered