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Lorenzo　turned　to　him　with　a　grin。　“You’re　just　lucky　I　was　going　easy　on　you；　because　you
were　an　invalid。”
“Ha！　If　I　hadn’t　been　holding　back；　I’d　have　dropped　you　before　you　knew　I　was　coming。”　He
was　certainly　back　to　his　old　self。　He　turned　to　Myers　and　Storm。　“Seriously—Lorenzo　here
knocked　me　out　all　by　himself？”
“Well；”　said　Myers　with　a　grimace；　“he　did　have　help。”
Lorenzo’s　stomach　knotted　as　he　remembered　how　Dougan　had　come　to　his　assistance。　“Yes；”
he　said　numbly。　“I　had　help。”
It　was　about　twenty　minutes　after　that；　trailing　a　short　way　behind　the　others；　deep　in　thought；　that
Lorenzo　got　the　feeling　he　was　being　followed。　He　whirled　around；　and　thought　he　saw　a　shape
through　the　trees。　A　humanoid　figure；　just　standing；　watching。　But　as　he　brought　it　into　focus；　it
slipped　away　like　a　shadow。　Like　last　night’s　blue　light。　Was　he　being　tricked　again？
He　called　out　a　challenge；　　to　a　halt。　He　hurried　up　to
where　he　thought　the　figure　had　been；　his　lasgun　trained　on　a　thorny　bush　behind　which　it　could
have　taken　cover。　There　was　nobody　there。
“Sorry；”　he　said。　“False　alarm。”　The　others　accepted　his　apology；　and　moved　on。
For　Lorenzo；　it　wasn’t　so　simple。　This　wasn’t　like　last　night—when；　having　snapped　out　of　the
blue　light’s　trance；　he　had　seen　so　clearly　what　had　been　real　and　what　had　been　an　illusion。　Perhaps
something　like　the　light　was　still　working　on　his　senses；　because　this　time；　he　was　certain　that　there
had　been　something。
No；　not　just　something。　Someone…
He　knew　it　didn’t　make　sense。　He　knew　that；　even　without　external　provocation；　the　mind　could
play　tricks。　Especially　the　grieving　mind。　Especially　the　guilty　mind。　But；　just　for　a　moment　as　he’d
glimpsed　that　figure；　Lorenzo　had　been　sure—as　sure　as　he’d　been　of　anything　in　his　life—that　he
had　known　it。
He　was　sure　he　had　recognised　Trooper　Dougan。
47
CHAPTER　EIGHT
The　jungle　seized　Trooper　Woods　without　warning。
The　red　flowers　were　particularly　prevalent　in　this　area；　and　Lorenzo　and　his　squad　had　been
treading　carefully。　Woods　was　sharing　a　joke　with　Greiss；　who　was　in　a　surprisingly　sanguine　mood；
when　his　feet　were　yanked　out　from　under　him。　The　Catachans　went　for　their　weapons　as　their
comrade　dropped。　Woods　was　on　the　ground；　in　the　long　jungle　grass；　and　the　red　flowers　were　all
screaming。
Lorenzo’s　first　thought　was　that　he　had　been　careless；　stepped　too　close　to　the　flowers—though
he　had　to　admit；　that　didn’t　sound　much　like　Hotshot。　But　Woods；　he　realised；　wasn’t　just　being
held；　he　was　being　dragged。
It　wasn’t　the　flowers’　heads　that　had　Woods；　it　was　their　roots。　They　had　burst　out　of　the　ground；
tangled　themselves　around　his　ankles—and　they　were　grasping　now　for　his　wrists。　They　were
coiling　and　writhing　around　him　like　living　things；　like　serpents；　striking　when　they　sensed　an
opening。　The　closest　troopers—Muldoon　and　Landon—had　dropped　to　their　haunches；　knives
drawn；　but　the　roots　were　thick　and　tough。　By　the　time　Landon　had　drawn　sap；　and　Muldoon　had　cut
his　first　root　through；　ten　more　had　erupted　from　the　undergrowth　to　replace　them。　And　the　wailing
flower　heads　were　snapping　at　the　would…be　rescuers；　straining　at　their　stems。
Woods　was　pulled　out　from　under　Landon。　The　rookie　lunged　after　him；　desperate　not　to　lose　the
root　he　had　almost　severed—and　a　flower　head　caught　his　finger。　Landon　fought　to　free　himself；　but
the　red　petals　held　him　as　tightly　as　they’d　held　Greiss’　stick　the　previous　day。　Landon　redistributed
his　weight；　tried　to　gain　leverage；　and　another　flower　opened　its　petals　wide　and　clamped　itself　onto
his　left　ankle。　He　was　immobilised。
Muldoon　had　fared　better；　snatching　his　hand　away　from　a　similar　attack—but　by　the　time　he
and　his　night　reaper　resumed　their　work；　Woods　had　been　pulled　another　metre　toward　uncharted
territory。　The　nearest　roots　had　relaxed　their　grips　now；　having　passed　their　captive　on　to　those
behind。　They　were　rearing　up；　twitching　from　side　to　side　as　if　on　the　lookout　for　fresh　prey。
Woods　had　one　hand　free；　and　he　was　clutching　at　the　undergrowth；　at　anything　that　might
anchor　him。　After　pulling　up　a　third　clump　of　weeds；　he　abandoned　this　plan　and　reached　instead　for
his　devil　claw。　As　he　tried　to　manoeuvre　it　through　the　living　bonds　that　held　him；　a　flower　caught
the　blade　and　wrenched　it　from　his　grip。
“Hey；”　called　Woods；　the　strain　in　his　voice　belying　his　forced　jovial　tone；　“a　little　help　would
be　appreciated；　you　know？”
The　entreaty　was　unnecessary。　Most　of　the　Jungle　Fighters　were　on　him；　or　struggling　to　reach
him　through　the　minefield　of　grasping　vegetation。　They　were　cutting；　tearing；　hacking；　but　Woods
was　still　being　pulled　away　from　them。　A　root　caught　his　free　arm；　and　pinned　it　to　his　side　like　the
other　one。　Now　he　was　trussed　up　good　and　proper；　like　a　fish　in　a　net；　hardly　able　to　even　struggle
anymore。
Mackenzie　was　shouting；　“Don’t　just　stand　there；　do　something！　Cut　him　loose！”　as　if　it　might
help。　Lorenzo　was　just　watching；　thinking…　looking　for　a　way；　a　safe　path；　to　reach　Woods　through
the　press　of　bodies　that　surrounded　him；　realising　that　even　if　he　could　find　one　he　would　only　be
joining　a　losing　battle…
He　remembered　the　acid　lake；　and　it　occurred　to　him　that　the　roots　might　be　pulling　Hotshot
towards　something…
48
Lorenzo　bounded　past　his　comrades；　drawing　his　las…gun。　He　was　surprised　to　find　that
Guardsman　Braxton　had　had　the　same　thought。　They　stood　side　by　side；　and　scanned　their
surroundings；　fingers　uneasy　on　their　triggers。
Lorenzo　saw　it　first：　an　acid　spitter；　lurking　in　the　heart　of　a　flowering　bush；　almost　totally
concealed。　It　stiffened；　as　if　sensing　eyes　upon　it；　and　opened　its　mouth。　He　was　sure　it　was　too　far
away　to　reach　him　with　its　deadly　spray—but　instinct　made　him　leap　aside　anyway；　and　push
Braxton　with　him。
The　spitter’s　aim　e　sluicing　into　the　dirt　at　just　the　spot　where　they
had　been　standing。　A　few　seconds　later；　and　Woods’　head　would　have　entered　its　range。
A　dual　burst　of　las…fire　destroyed　the　acid　spitter。　Then；　without　having　to　confer；　both　Lorenzo
and　Braxton　pointed　their　guns　at　the　undergrowth　in　Woods’　path；　and　began　to　blast　the　flowers
that　waited　there。　The　flowers’　siren　wail　went　up　an　octave；　becoming　louder；　more　intense；　more
painful；　and　Lorenzo’s　head　began　to　throb。　He　could　see　black　spots　at　the　edge　of　his　vision；　and
he　knew　the　rest　of　his　squad　was　affected　too；　because　they　were　starting　to　reel　and　shake　their
heads　and　put　their　hands　to　their　ears。
He　kept　on　firing；　because　it　was　the　only　way　to　end　it。　Each　time　he　incinerated　a　red　flower
head；　its　roots　thrashed　for　a　few　seconds　longer　and　then　fell　limp；　but　that　dreadful　sound　never
seemed　to　ease。
Lorenzo　had　to　cease　firing　when　he　was　too　blind　to　aim　properly；　when　the　remaining　flowers
were　too　close　to　the　prone　Woods　for　safety。　He　was　going　nowhere　now；　the　roots　around　him
dead　and　blackened；　but　he　was　still　firmly　entangled。　The　other　Jungle　Fighters　followed　Lorenzo
and　Braxton’s　lead；　targeting　the　flower　heads　rather　than　their　roots。　They　seized　them　by　the　red
petals；　holding　their　“mouths”　closed；　and　sawed　them　from　their　stems。　With　each　flower　that　died；
more　of　Woods’　bonds　fell　loose；　and　finally　he　was　able　to　tear　himself　free　and　stand；　evidently　in
pain　from　the　continuing　screaming。
Mackenzie　was　feeling　the　worst　of　it；　though。　He　was　practically　on　his　knees；　his　hands
clasped　over　his　ears；　and　Lorenzo　was　alarmed　to　see　blood　trickling　through　his　fingers。
With　Woods　out　of　the　danger　area；　however—and　Landon　freed　now；　along　with　Woods’
knife—lasguns　could　be　employed　again；　and　it　wasn’t　long　before　the　final　red　flower　was　blasted
to　a　cinder。　Lorenzo　closed　his　eyes　and　let　out　a　long；　shuddering　sigh　as　he　was　soothed　by　a
blessed　silence。
“Well；　that　seals　it；”　muttered　Greiss；　when　their　ears　had　finally　stopped　ringing。　“There’s
something　seriously　nuts　about　this　place。”
Donovits　was　sitting　on　the　ground　with　his　knees　drawn　up　to　his　chest；　his　forehead　shiny　with
sweat。　“It’s　as　if　evolution　has　been　speeded　up　here；”　he　conside