First published in Reflections Edge magazine in 2008
Ewan stared at the water in the sink as it swirled down the plug in the opposite direction. He dried his face with a towel and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror.
‘Can you believe you’re here?’ he said to his reflection. ‘The Falkland Islands, of all places? You almost couldn’t be any further away from home. How cool is that?’
He went out to the kitchen. Tom was cooking Paella. Paella was a good idea. With the exception of the fruit that arrived by plane twice weekly from Chile, Fish was the only fresh commodity in Port Stanley, the remotest – and most southerly – capital city in the world. Most of the time, even the dried food on sale at the local store was beyond its use-by date.
Tom looked up from the sizzling pan at Ewan. ‘Just had the office on the phone. The weather’s calming out at the rig. They’ve just started dropping anchors. Looks like you get to go offshore tomorrow.’
Ewan felt a surge of excitement. He had never been on an oil rig before. And what a location to do it in. The South Atlantic. Tranche F. One hundred and fifty kilometres off the north coast of the east island, on the Borgny Dolphin, a mobile exploration rig that had spent the last two months being towed here from the North Sea off the coast of Scotland, all the way down the east coast of South America.
‘That’s great news,’ said Ewan. ‘Paella smells good.’
Ewan walked through to the dining room of the company staff-house; a single storey timber building that stood on top of the hill overlooking Port Stanley. Out of the grand bay window, there was almost complete darkness, save for the orange points of light from the streetlamps on Ross Road, down by the water.
Ewan looked at the dining table, which was covered in paper, laptops, wires, CD-ROMs and portable printers. Robert, the chief geologist, was looking at a seismic section on one computer. Another laptop was sitting unattended. A screensaver had appeared on it; words jerkily scrolling across the screen that said; “This operation is costing $100,000 a day. Can you afford to waste a minute?”
‘How long till dinner?’ said Robert, not looking up from his screen. ‘I want to get to the Victory Bar before it shuts.’
*
They stepped out of the staff house into the icy crisp night. Above them, an unhindered view of the universe stretched out like a lavish and mysterious blanket.
Tom lifted the flap on his coat collar and rolled down the edges of his woolly hat so that they covered his ears. ‘Will you look at that beautiful night?’
Robert lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. ‘You don’t get views like that in London.’
They started walking along Davis Street towards town.
*
Ewan racked up a pool game and waited for Tom to return with the drinks. The Victory Bar was fuller than normal tonight because quite a number of the rotation crew had been stuck in Port Stanley waiting for the weather to calm out at the rig. By now it would be common knowledge that the first helicopter would be leaving from Mount Pleasant Royal Air Force Base in the morning. It would be two more weeks before any of the crew could touch the bottle again. So tonight was the last chance to get some drinking done.
It didn’t take long for the arguments and debates to kick in. Tom liked to go on about how Margaret Thatcher apparently wanted to nuke the Islands during the Argentinean invasion in 1982, but was advised against it because there was a strong possibility of the presence of oil in the region. ‘This operation is complex enough without having to contend with radiation as well. Frankly I would like all my future babies to be born with only one head each.’
Robert would usually get into a separate rant about how expensive this drill was, due to the lack of drilling materials in situ, and if he’d chosen the wrong place to make the hole he might well lose his job and destroy his professional reputation. ‘That’s why I haven’t given up smoking yet. The job’s too stressful!’
While they were busy engaging in heated discussions, over-chalking their pool cues and not concentrating on their shots, Ewan would thrash them and steal all their money.
*
At the end of the evening Ewan paid one last visit to the most disgusting outside toilet in the world, then they collected their coats to go.
He felt inside his jacket to see if he still had the pen he’d picked up off the bar which had the words “Stolen from the Victory Bar, Falkland Islands.” written along it’s length.
Robert was in the middle of explaining the intricacies of reservoir traps to one of the welders when something caused him to stop speaking mid-sentence. The room had begun to shake. Just a little at first, but with increasing intensity. Bottles and glasses jiggled behind the bar. Windows rattled in their frames. Everyone in the room fell silent, exchanging glances.
At first Ewan thought it might be an earthquake, but, given their geographical location he knew that was very unlikely. Then he could hear a distant roar of what sounded like jets permeate the voiceless bar, growing louder as they tore across the dark world outside.
‘Fighter planes,’ said Robert.
Tom went to the window at looked out at the sky.
The roaring grew louder still, and with it came another sound. It was a cross between the biggest car alarm ever made and a loud screaming firework. It was part of the roar.
‘I don’t like the sound of that at all,’ said the barman. ‘We get fighters over here a lot, but this ain’t fighters.’
Some people pushed out of the bar door and into the street to investigate the noise. Ewan, Tom and Robert followed them out. The roar was much louder in the cold thin air on Philomel Street. Under the glow of the streetlamps, the handful of people who had come out of the bar looked up at the sky, scanning the tops of the buildings for the source of the noise. People started to emerge from their houses further up the hill.
Getting louder now. Enveloping the world.
Then it appeared, unzipping the night sky as it scored its way from east to west over their heads.
Ewan craned his head back.
Three white lights, arranged in a wide triangle. The under-lights of a dark craft, which blotted out the rich universe above it. The craft was also triangular, flying with a flat edge forward. Behind it, spewing from its hull were billowing flames and a thick line of smoke like an aircraft contrail. It was very, very low.
‘What the hell is that?’ shouted Ewan over the roar, his voice swallowed up by it
Tom was fishing in his pockets. ‘It’s going to crash.’
Ewan could only barely make out what he was saying. Tom pulled out a bunch of keys and threw them to Robert. ‘Go and get the jeep.’
Robert threw the keys back. ‘I’ve had too much to drink.’
Tom threw them at him again. ‘You’ve had less than the rest of us. Get a camera too. And the binoculars.’
Robert turned and ran up the hill towards the staff house, looking over his shoulder at the craft as it moved away towards the harbour. Seconds later it disappeared behind the houses.
The smoke trail above them was dissipating, and the roar of the craft could still be heard. Within a few seconds the sound terminated in a crash that was louder than anything that had preceded it. Ewan looked at Tom as they listened to the sound of the impact. He felt a shiver run up the entire length of his back.
Silence. Nobody spoke.
Then… slapping footsteps. Someone was running down the hill. A man, shouting. ‘I saw it come in over the airfield. I think it came down just north of Mount Tumbledown. Maybe even as far as Wireless Ridge.’
‘Tom!’ said Ewan. ‘Tom, we can’t drive out there. The whole area is one huge minefield.’
The barman, who had followed them out, said. ‘Only part of that area is. You can get minefield maps from the museum shop down on Ross Road.’
‘I think I know the place you mean.’ said Tom. ‘Opposite the Upland Goose Hotel?’
‘Yeah.’
Ewan laughed nervously. ‘It won’t be open now. It’s nearly midnight.’
Tom started off down the hill, his feet carrying him quickly. ‘Lets hope they don’t have an alarm system.’
Ewan bounded after him. ‘Even if they do. It won’t be any louder than what we just heard. I’m sure the owner’s probably awake by now. We’ll probably get arrested! Hey, Tom! Slow down!’
*
Tom’s elbow punched through the flimsy pane of glass on the window of the museum shop. Then he started to carefully pull away huge shards of glass and drop them onto the ground.
He stepped back. ‘Reckon you can get through there?’
Ewan stared at him in surprise. ‘You nuts?’
‘You’re smaller than me.’
‘I’ll cut myself.’
‘Well try not to.’
Ewan took a hold of each side of the window frame and hauled himself up, placing his foot on the sill. He transferred his other foot onto a sideboard inside and then jumped down into the shop. When his eyes adjusted to the gloom he saw he was surrounded by a cache of broken and exploded mines. Twisted, charred and disfigured metal pieces arranged on the floor.
‘Look at these mines.’
‘Can you see any maps?’ said Tom through the window.
‘I’m looking for the light switch.’
‘Don’t turn the lights on. Just do your best.’
Ewan cast his eyes around the shop. On most of the walls were countless photographs of people with arms and legs and other body parts missing. Many of the pictures were of children. Ewan was glad he could only partially see these innocent victims of the war that ravaged the Islands sixteen years earlier.
He saw the minefield maps. They were folded up in a wire rack on the counter. ‘I’ve found them.’
‘How much are they?’
Ewan snorted loudly. ‘You want to pay for them?’
‘We may be vandals but we’re not bloody thieves!’
‘Well, they’re free anyway.’
‘Get them all.’
*
As they ran back along the waterfront and up Philomel Street to the Victory Bar carrying maps under their arms, Ewan was beginning to discover just how out of shape he was. Tom however, seemed to have no problem running the distance. Not bad considering the guy was more than ten years Ewan’s senior.
Outside the bar, Robert was waiting in the Range Rover with the engine running. Ewan climbed in the back, and Tom rode shotgun.
‘What happened to you guys?’ said Robert.
‘We went to get some minefield maps from the museum shop.’ said Tom.
‘Were they open?’
‘No.’
Robert swung the jeep around and drove up the hill towards the main road that led out of Stanley towards Mount Tumbledown.
The light inside the vehicle kept the dark outside at bay, and the windows reflected the interior back at them. Ewan cupped his eyes to the glass, looking north out of the car to see if he could see anything. He was rewarded with nothing but the barren, featureless Falklands night.
Tom studied the map. Ewan leaned in and looked at it over his shoulder.
‘Anyone got a pen?’ said Tom.
Ewan pulled his new Victory Bar pen and handed it to Tom, who took it and started to mark certain parts on the page.
‘The area we’re in now is all green. It says that green areas have been checked by the Royal Engineers and are believed to be safe. If we head out to the farm at the base of Mount Tumbledown, the whole area beyond it up to Wireless Ridge is blue, which means…err, blue means there’s no evidence at all that these areas contain minefields or booby traps. However, it says they may contain unexploded bombs, ammunition, missiles etcetera.’ Tom looked up and pointed at an approaching side road. ‘Robert, you need to turn right here.’
Robert turned the jeep north onto a lonely gravel track that led down a slight incline towards the farm and the water’s edge.
‘Look!’ said Ewan, pointing out of the front window.
Up ahead, a few hundred metres in front were a set of red tailights.
‘Looks like someone got there first.’ said Robert.
‘Not yet,’ said Tom. ‘They haven’t got there yet.’
*
When they pulled up outside the farm, Tom looked at the other car, which has stopped just ahead of them.
‘It’s one of the Shell vehicles. Looks like Steve and Michael.’
The Shell Exploration Company had just finished drilling their well in the offshore Tranche B, only to find that there was nothing down there but traces of oil. Their conclusion was that the hydrocarbons had probably migrated to a different area in the basin. Shell’s drill produced nothing that could be called a commercial quantity of oil. Also, their core samples contained a large quantity of ash, indicating the likely presence of a long extinct volcano on the Argentinean landmass. The porosity of ash enabled oil to move around the basin more freely. The stuff was down there somewhere, so after all these years, Maggies advisors had been vindicated.
Tom leaned out of the passenger window as Robert swung the jeep alongside the Shell vehicle. ‘I thought you’d gone back to the UK,’ he called to the other car. ‘Weren’t you supposed to catch the RAF flight out yesterday? Tail between your legs?’
Ewan struggled to hear the inaudible response over the noise of the cars.
Then the engines were shut off and only the sound of the gusting wind and the nearby lapping water could be heard.
Everyone got out of their cars. Robert grabbed two torches from the boot and locked the jeep. He handed one to Tom, who switched it on and shone it on the map. His finger shifted across the paper and rested on the edge of the harbour.
‘We’re here. And this area up here over Wireless Ridge is where that guy thought it came down. There’s no road beyond here and it’s too rough for the jeep. Most of the walk is over areas marked green. But Wireless Ridge itself is blue,’ he looked around at the rest of us. ‘It means you have to make your own decision about whether you want to go up there, because it could be dangerous.’
Robert said. ‘With a bit of luck it’ll have come down in the green area.’
‘We already know it didn’t. If you look at the contour lines on the map you can see the green area ends at the top of that hill.’ Tom pointed to the hill itself. ‘There. I don’t see anything between here and there, do you? So it must have come down on the other side. Now, is everybody in on this?’
They nodded in agreement and started up the hill. Robert in front, the others following behind. It was a good steady climb over hard, uneven grass. To the east, Ewan could see the lights of Port Stanley across the water, and in front, nothing but the feint dark line of the top of the hill.
‘I’m surprised the military haven’t put in an appearance yet,’ said Tom. ‘If it was an Argentinean plane they’d have knocked it out of the sky by now.’
‘Maybe they did.’ said Ewan, out of breath from the climbing.
‘That was no Argentinean plane, my friends,’ said Robert.
‘Maybe it’s not detectable by radar. They might not know it’s here.’ said Ewan.
‘Oh, they’ll know,’ said Tom. ‘Someone in Port Stanley would’ve called the base by now.’
‘But we’ll be the first. We’ll get the first pictures, right?’ said Ewan.
*
Robert ran ahead. He reached the summit first, and Ewan could tell he’d spotted something in the valley beyond because he turned quickly and ran back down to the rest of them.
‘You were right about where it came down.’ he said.
‘How far?’ said Tom.
‘About a kilometre on the other side.’
Soon they all reached the top of the hill. Ewan looked down into the valley and saw the outline of the crashed ship; the moonlight revealing nothing but a vague shape that was only marginally darker than the land that surrounded it. The fire that had been spewing from it when it flew over Stanley had gone out. If it weren’t for the smoke that was still coming off it and being carried inland away from them, one would be forgiven for thinking the dark craft was just a body of water.
‘Give me the binoculars.’ said Tom.
Robert gave them to him and he put them up to his eyes.
‘Jeez it’s cold up here,’ said Ewan, rubbing his arms. ‘Can you see anything?’
‘Yeah. Yeah I can. There’s something moving around outside it. A figure.’
‘Is it human?’ said one of the Shell guys.
After a moment, Tom said. ‘I don’t know. The light’s too bad.’
They all stood there a moment. Ewan’s mind was wrestling with itself. On one side there was fear. He wanted to turn and run back down the hill to the car. Looking over his shoulder he could still see it parked down by the farm. He could just walk away, and let someone else deal with it. On the other side was his growing sense of adventure. His week had been full of new experiences, and here he was, riding the wave.
Robert was talking now. ‘If we go down there and the military get over here from Mount Pleasant, we’ll be quarantined. They won’t let us go offshore tomorrow. It’ll ruin the drilling operation.’
‘I think there’s a difference between what’s important here, and what’s necessary.’ said Tom. ‘The drill is important, but this… this is necessary.’
Ewan laughed nervously. ‘But the company will kill us if we trashed the operation. We’ll all be out of a job.
Then they’ll sue us for misconduct, or gross negligence.’
One of the Shell guys said: ‘Doesn’t matter to me. Our drill’s complete anyway. We’re going back to London in two days. I’m going down there. I want to see that thing up close.’
The other Shell guy agreed with him and the two of them wandered off down the hill, not waiting for a response from the others.
Tom turned to Ewan. ‘This is unprecedented. If the military get involved they’ll quarantine the whole East Island anyway, including us. Even if we were back in Port Stanley sleeping in our beds. We’ve got nothing to lose now we’re here. Do you really want them to get there first?’
‘Who? The Shell guys?’
‘No. The RAF. The military.’
He regarded them for a moment longer and then started down the hill on his own. Robert shrugged and started to walk after him.
‘Wait for me,’ Ewan called and ran after them, closing the distance to the downed craft.
‘Do you think we’re mad doing this?’ Ewan said to Robert when he caught up.
‘Mad? Yes. Probably. But look at it. Tom’s right. This is the only chance we’ll ever have to see something like this. A real close encounter of the third kind, y’know. Imagine how much money we could make from selling those photos. And let’s face it, you’ll never forget it. Not as long as you live.’
‘I suppose you’re right but I can’t deny I’m pretty damn sc…’
BANG!
Ewan looked up ahead to see one of the Shell guys get smashed to bits by the blast. Steve or Michael. He knew their names, but he didn’t know which was which. His torso shifted sideways in an awkward and unnatural fashion and landed on his colleague, who was screaming because his leg had caught some of the shrapnel. He grabbed it pathetically as he fell to the ground.
All Ewan could hear after that was shouting and screaming. Tom and Robert ran towards them. Ewan followed behind, but slower. In fact, it all felt like slow motion to him.
He was utterly chilled to the bone by the cries of the guy with his leg cut, but he was totally unprepared for the sight of the one who had been killed. As Ewan drew closer to the body he could see there was no sign of his legs, just an awful lot of mess all over the ground. Everything below his waist had simply disintegrated.
Ewan’s hand flew to his mouth. ‘Oh my dear God!’
Tom was helping the injured Shell guy to his feet. ‘We have to get you to a doctor. I’m going to… I’ve got to take him back to Stanley. Any volunteers to help me.’
Ewan stared blankly at Tom, unable to say anything.
‘Help him up,’ said Tom, looking up at Ewan. ‘Get his other arm.’
‘They’ve seen us,’ said Robert. He was looking through the binoculars. ‘There’s three of them and they’re looking this way. They must have heard the mine go off.’
Ewan felt a wave of shivers traversing his spine. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
Tom and the Shell guy looked in the direction of the craft. Ewan focused hard to try and pick out some details too. But he couldn’t see anything moving.
‘Are… are they human?’ said Tom, straining to lift the injured Shell guy up off the ground.
‘No,’ said Robert, shifting the focus drum with his finger. ‘They’re not human. Their bodies are too thin.’
‘Too thin?’ said Ewan.
‘Are they coming towards us?’ said Tom, his gaze shifting back and forth across the expanse of Wireless Ridge.
‘No.’
‘Good. We really have to get out of here,’ said Tom. ‘We’ve already proven our stupidity. We don’t need to go any further to do that. Let’s just go. This is just too dangerous.’
Robert said, ‘You’re right. We have to let the forces deal with it. Coming up here was just plain nuts.’
Ewan pointed down at the remains of the dead man. ‘If we go… what about him?’
Tom said: ‘He’s dead Ewan. We can’t help him.’
‘We can’t just leave him here.’
‘Bring him with you then,’ said Tom.
Tom and the injured Shell guy started to make their way slowly back up the hill in the direction of the car.
Ewan was shocked. ‘Oh I get it. You’ve all seen dead people before, right? That’s why you’re so cool about it.’
Tom stopped walking and turned his head. ‘Ewan it’s a cruel twist of fate that the majority of the world’s oil is located in the most war-torn and messed-up places. Yes, I’ve seen dead bodies before. I’m not “cool” about it by any stretch. But believe me, I know what a war zone looks like, and more importantly I know when it’s time to skew my priorities.’
Ewan stared at him, concocting his response. ‘Maybe it’s the other way round.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think these places are messed up because there’s oil. Because oil cultivates greed and war.’
Tom looked at his feet. ‘Yes, and we cultivate the oil. Can you live with that?’
*
They made slow progress on their way back to the car. Tom and Robert walked ahead with the injured Shell guy supported between them.
Ewan walked behind them. He kept glancing back at the outline of the downed craft in the distance and the lifeless remains of the man they left behind, which quickly became an unintelligible dark shape on the ground.
‘I can’t believe we’re just leaving him there. We have to make sure we don’t leave him up here forever. I mean, we’ll come back and get him, right? Or we’ll send someone. Just tell me we’re not going to leave him up here.’
That was when the second anti-personnel mine was triggered. This time it was Tom. He shrieked as his form dissolved behind a rising curtain of rubble and soil.
The injured Shell guy fell sideways and landed in a heap on the ground on top of Robert. He was screaming.
Ewan felt every ounce of blood drain from his face. His legs tried to give way beneath him, but he refused to let them. ‘No!’
Robert scrambled sideways, away from the other two men, shouting, ‘Tom!’
Ewan could see that Tom was dead. His body was lifeless, lying in an awkward shape and torn at the side. Really torn. His legs were gone.
All of a sudden; just like that, Tom wouldn’t be talking to them ever again.
‘That’s it!’ Ewan cried, standing fast. ‘I… I’m not moving another bloody inch. I’d rather die of exposure up here than take even one more step. We’re retracing our steps for Christ’s sake!’
Robert was kneeling by the Shell guy, looking closely at his leg.
Ewan’s mouth continued to speak. ‘Robert. What the hell are we going to do? I’m not walking any further. No way. The only direction I’m going is up. You’ll have to get a helicopter out here to lift me out of here because I’m not moving. Robert. Do you hear me? Did you hear me Robert?’
‘Ewan. Shut up and take some deep breaths. Take off your jacket and give me your t-shirt. Steve needs a tourniquet on his leg otherwise he’s going to lose too much blood. We might have to carry him.’
Ewan could feel himself losing control. His vision started to swim. He took some deep breaths. ‘Sure. Sure we need to focus. Focusing on the job. The job at hand. Sure.’
He started to remove his jacket. In his haste he found he was doing a clumsy job of removing his arms from one of the sleeves. He stopped with it half on and half off. ‘What’s that noise?’
Robert stopped and looked at Ewan. ‘What noise?’
They were silent a moment. Ewan could feel his teeth vibrating. He clenched them and the sensation ran through his skull. ‘It’s not a noise. It’s a vibration.’
Robert cast his eyes around the dark horizon. ‘I can feel it too. In my bones. It’s a low harmonic.’
They remained silent a few moments longer. The vibrations were growing; oscillating at a long wavelength that became longer and lower in frequency with every passing second. Then Ewan noticed a smell. Hot electricity mixed with wet metal. It was becoming more intense; thickening the air despite the wind. Ewan’s nostrils began to sting and his eyes started to water. He sat down heavily on the wet ground. ‘What’s going on?’
Robert pulled the binoculars out of his pocket and looked at the crashed ship.
‘I can’t see them. They must have gone back inside.’
Ewan’s head was beginning to feel like he had inhaled a chilli pepper. The odour was biting at his sinuses. It was making his eyes and nostrils stream. He pinched his nose. ‘I can’t take this!’
The oscillating vibration was agitating his insides, making his stomach feel like it wanted to be sick again. He ran his hands out over the wet grass, absently grabbing clumps of soil and squeezing them, blinking away water from his eyes, sniffling to stop his nose from running. The pain in his head grew and grew. He looked at Robert, who was also pinching his nose.
There followed an almighty explosion, and Ewan’s hands flew to his ears to block out the harsh rupturing pinch that he felt intruding upon his senses.
In every direction, all around them but fortunately not too near, pillars of mud flew upwards out of the ground. Hundreds of them. Dark geysers of earth and soil lit by bright fire at their bases.
Robert leapt over to Ewan and covered him with his own body.
The flying mud splattered down to the ground with a protracted ripple. A long low rumble dissipated across the low valleys and faded away to silence. Ewan’s ears were ringing.
The smell of wet metal started to abate.
‘Did you see them up on the hill?’ shouted the Shell guy, whom Ewan now knew was called Steve. He sounded delirious, as though consumed by a terrible fever. ‘Fireworks and flashes. They were beautiful.’ He rolled over and screamed in pain. ‘My leg!’
Robert stood up and looked at Ewan. ‘I’m going to stay here with Steve and dress his wound. Go to the car and drive back to Stanley. Go to the operations office and put out a call to Mount Pleasant. Tell them our position. Get the medical chopper sent out here.’
Ewan got to his feet. His legs were shaking. ‘I can’t. I’m too scared to walk any further Robert. I’m too scared.’
‘They blew the mines. You saw them go off.’
‘We don’t know if they got them all.’
Steve said something. Quietly at first but he repeated himself. ‘Go to the ship.’
Robert looked at him, lying on the floor with a broken leg. What?’
‘They destroyed the mines for a reason,’ Steve added, his breathing heavy. ‘They want you to go there.’
Ewan looked in the direction of the downed craft. ‘But what about you?’
‘Just make sure… make sure you’re quick about it.’
Robert and Ewan shared a glance. Then Robert looked at his watch.
‘We’ll be five minutes, Steve.’
‘I’ll be okay.’
Ewan and Robert started walking towards the vessel that lay in the middle of Wireless Ridge, eyes fixed on the black shape as it grew in their sights.
‘Let’s not be long about this okay?’ Robert said as he broke into a run. Ewan started to run too, but the going wasn’t easy. The ground was uneven and they had to be careful not to step on the smoking, twisted shrapnel of the anti-personnel mines, or put their feet into the shallow holes left by the mines themselves. As they approached the craft they slowed. Ewan’s heart was beating hard from the running, and harder from the fear.
Even from just a few metres away, the craft was still a dark silhouette. Its flat triangular form was featureless, as though it was a huge blob of angular ink that had fallen out of the sky. It was still emitting the low harmonic, though it was not as intense as before the mines were triggered. The fire on the craft had long gone out and all that remained was an odour that resembled burning plastic, mixed with the wet metal.
Robert started to walk off to the right, around the side of the craft. Ewan stayed close behind. He had no desire to be left alone right now. They rounded the pointed tip of the craft and looked along the new side that had been revealed to them.
Halfway along its length was an entryway; a hatch at waist level. Even from such an acute angle Ewan could see that it was open.
They approached it slowly and with every step Ewan could see more and more of the interior of the craft.
There were lights moving along the walls; green and blue streaks that flitted horizontally, then vertically. Sometimes they disappeared altogether.
Ewan and Robert arrived at the hatch and looked in. Ewan saw that the streaks of light he thought were disappearing were in fact jumping across the blackened walls of the corridor to the opposite wall, before rushing off around a corner of one of the many side corridors that led off the main one.
At the far end of the corridor there seemed to be a larger room, inside which there was a throbbing, pulsing light reflected from some unseen source.
Ewan and Robert stared at each other for a moment.
‘Hello?’ Robert called aloud.
Within seconds they could hear running steps scuttling along the metallic grating. The sound was getting louder, accompanied by rasping asthmatic breaths.
One of the humanoids appeared at the other end of the corridor. It paused a moment clutching its neck. It was breathing heavily and with great difficulty. It eyes were big and black, its skin a reptilian grey.
Ewan almost turned and ran. A wave of prickles on his face soon resulted in the manifestation of a fearful sweat. Robert sensed his fear and grabbed Ewan’s arm to ensure that he stayed where he was.
The humanoid started to move slowly towards them, light points flitting across the corridor between them. Ewan began to realise that the creature was in no position to attack them, even if it wanted to. It was struggling too much with its breathing. It started to advance through the jumping lights, and then it made a strange clicking noise, produced from its mouth. It must have been some sort of verbal command because the lights in the corridor blinked out.
The humanoid took another step; its breath more rasping and laboured now. It reached out one of its long grey, spindly arms, palm upwards, towards Ewan and Robert.
‘He needs our help,’ whispered Robert.
Then its legs gave way and it collapsed to the floor, hitting its head hard on the metallic grating.
It became still.
Robert was fearless, he hesitated no longer. He placed his hands on the waist-high hatchway and hoisted himself up. Then he turned and reached out to help Ewan.
‘Robert, are you sure about this? I don’t like it at all. This flies in the face of…’
‘Just give me your hand Ewan. Don’t you understand how important this is, how necessary?’
Ewan stared at Robert’s hand, amazed at how unafraid the man was. Then he took it.
*
The thin body of the humanoid lay lifeless and pathetic on the metal grating. Its form reminded Ewan of a third-world child that had died of hunger. Robert touched its arm. ‘It’s still warm.’
As soon as Robert spoke they heard more vocal clicking coming from deeper in the craft. Robert looked down the corridor.
‘I saw two more through the binoculars,’ Robert said. ‘They must have heard us.’
He stood and moved further down the corridor
‘Robert,’ Ewan whispered. ‘Don’t you think we could be contaminated by all this? There could be some disease. We could be dead in seconds!’
Robert looked at Ewan for a moment, then down at his own hand; the one he’d used to touch the humanoid. Then he said, ‘The military will be arriving soon. When they do, that’s it. We’ll be quarantined. It’s going to happen whether we like it or not. Also, after we leave, they’ll cordon off this area and create a no-fly zone. Then they’ll move this craft to a secure location, away from any prying eyes. Once that happens, no civilian will ever be allowed anywhere near it, ever again. They might even deny its very existence if the conspiracy theorists are to be believed. Do you realize how unique our position is right now?’
Robert didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and walked deeper into the craft, towards the room at the end of the corridor with the throbbing light; the room where the clicking humanoid voices had come from.
As soon as they entered the room Ewan spotted the two humanoids. They were sitting in low, reclined chairs, both lying still. Eyes closed.
But the thing that caught his attention was the image on the huge wide screen that took up most of one of the walls.
It was a relief map of the Falkland Islands, with contour lines and elevations marked in blue. Marked in red on the map were settlement areas. Port Stanley and Mount Pleasant were the most densely red, but there we smaller dots all over the islands.
Then there were the brown shaded areas. Ewan recognized them. ‘It’s the same as the minefield map.’
Robert nodded slowly.
Ewan looked around the room, at the smooth metallic lines of architecture and strange instruments located along the wall beneath the screen. He tried to take it all in. ‘Are you going to take any photos, Robert?’
Robert looked down at the two dead bodies and shook his head. ‘No. Suddenly it doesn’t feel right somehow.’
The sound of distant helicopters reached Ewan’s ears, and at the same time, more fast-moving lights began to flitter along the walls.
They moved with the noise, throbbing with the growing sound of the chopper blades.
‘Besides,’ Robert added, pointing upwards. ‘They would never let me keep them.’
Ewan stared at him, unsure of what to say.
The helicopters were getting nearer.
‘Come on,’ said Robert, ‘We’d better go outside.’