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pride　at　having　been　there；　at　having　seen　something　so　inspiring；　but　most　of　all　at　knowing　he’d
done　justice　to　his　fallen　comrade’s　memory；　and　somehow　everything　seemed　a　little　brighter　then。
“A　couple　of　the　others　saw　how　Brains　went。”　Woods　related　in　return。　“There　were　a　few　of
them　together；　and　the　orks　were　searching　the　jungle；　and　they　hadn’t　had　time　to　find　a　proper
hiding　place　what　with　everything　going　to　hell　so　fast。　They　say　Brains　let　the　greenskins　find　him；
because　a　couple　more　steps　and　they　would’ve　stumbled　right　onto　Wildman　and　maybe　Bullseye。
He　gave　his　own　life　to　buy　the　rest　of　us　time。　Course；　he　came　out　firing。　I　have　to　confess；
sometimes　I　didn’t　have　much　time　for　old　Brains；　thought　he　yapped　too　much　when　he　should’ve
been　getting　on　with　it—but　the　way　the　others　tell　it；　he　would’ve　done　Marbo　proud　last　night。
Took　on　ten；　twelve　orks　by　his　lonesome；　and　stayed　standing　long　enough　for　the　others　to
retrench；　to　start　fighting　back。”
“What　happened？”　asked　Lorenzo。　“What　started　it；　I　mean？　We　were　almost　there；　almost　past
the　encampment；　and　then…”
“Oh　yeah；”　said　Woods；　screwing　his　face　up　into　a　scowl；　“I　almost　forgot　you　were　up　front；
missed　it　all。　I　bet　you　can　guess；　though。　I　bet　you　can　guess　who　was　brainless　enough　to　step　on
an　ork　trap；　blow　himself　right　up。”
“Mackenzie？”　Lorenzo　hazarded。　The　disdain　in　Woods’　voice　and　expression　had　been
something　of　a　giveaway。
“Mackenzie；”　he　confirmed。　“The　commissar。”
“I　wouldn’t　have　thought　even　he—”
“It　was　the　blue　light。　Came　up　on　us　all　unexpected　like。　I　felt　it　in　my　head　for　a　bit—just　a
second—like　it　was　scanning　me；　reading　my　mind；　then　it　moved　on。　Mackenzie…　I　figure　what
happened　was；　the　light　picked　on　the　weakest　of　us。　Mackenzie　got　up；　started　walking　towards　it
like　he　was　in　a　trance　or　something。　The　sergeant　tried　to　stop　him—brought　up　his　lasgun；　told
Mackenzie　he’d　shoot　him　dead　if　he　took　another　step；　though　I　don’t　know　why　he　cared；　can’t　say
I’d　have　shed　a　tear　if　Mackenzie　had　gone　on；　if　he’d　sunk　into　the　swamp　and　never　come　out
again。　But　Old　Hardhead　seemed　to　be　getting　through　to　him。　Mackenzie　just　froze；　and　he　was
looking　at　Old　Hardhead；　and　at　the　blue　light；　all　confused—and　it　was　Bullseye；　I　think；　who　saw
the　wire。　Mackenzie　was　standing　with　one　foot　in　front　of　it；　one　foot　behind。　God…Emperor　knows
how　he　hadn’t　tripped　it　already。　Old　Hardhead；　he　motioned　to　the　rest　of　us　to　get　back；　and　he
kept　talking　to　the　commissar；　all　quiet　and　calm。　Mackenzie；　he　was　listening；　he　could　see　the
sergeant　was　making　sense；　but　he　still　wanted　to　go　to　that　light；　you　could　tell。　He　kept　asking　why
he　should　trust　any　of　us。　He　talked　about　what　happened　at　the　river；　and　he　accused　the　sergeant　of
wanting　him　dead。　I　knew　we　were　in　trouble　right　then；　knew　he’d　bring　the　orks　down　on　us
eventually　even　if　he　didn’t　trip　that　wire。　Old　Hardhead　was　whispering；　trying　to　hush　the
commissar；　but　he　was　getting　hysterical。”
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“That’s　what　the　light　does　to　you；”　said　Lorenzo　sombrely。　“It　plays　on　your　hopes；　your　fears。
And　Mackenzie　was　already　so　afraid…”　He　fell　silent　as　he　realised　what　he’d　said。　He’d　admitted
to　a　weakness；　in　front　of　Woods　of　all　people—a　soldier　who；　if　he’d　ever　feared　anything；　would
certainly　not　have　confessed　to　it。
It　didn’t　seem　to　matter。　“Makes　sense；”　said　Woods。　“I　think；　deep　down；　Mackenzie　maybe
wanted　to　believe—he　wanted　to　be　convinced—but　that　light　was　just　too　damn　strong　for　him。”
“What　about　Braxton？”
“Give　him　his　due。”　Woods　conceded；　“he　tried。　He　crawled　forward；　put　himself　in　the　danger
zone；　just　so　he　could　talk　to　Mackenzie；　back　up　what　Old　Hardhead　was　saying。　But　as　soon　as　he
opened　his　mouth；　Mackenzie；　he　just…　it　was　like　he　freaked　out　good　and　proper。　He　accused
Braxton　of　betraying　him；　said　he　was　alone　now　and　he　wasn’t　going　to　listen　to　anyone　anymore。
He　closed　his　eyes；　put　his　hands　over　his　ears；　like　he　was　in　pain；　and　he　was　screaming　for
everyone　to　stop　talking；　to　leave　him　alone；　to　let　him　think。
“Well；　it　was　all　over　then；　of　course。　Braxton　started　forward—I　don’t　know　why；　like　maybe
he　thought　he　could　drag　Mackenzie　to　safety　or　something—but　the　commissar　had　made　up　his
mind。”
“Or　rather。”　Lorenzo　murmured；　“the　light　had　made　it　up　for　him。”
“And　the　rest；　like　Commissar　Mackenzie；　is　history。”
“And　Braxton？”
“Oh；　he’s　alright。　Old　Hardhead　grabbed　hold　of　him；　pulled　him　back；　damn　near　got　himself
killed　in　the　process。　Now；　that—that　would’ve　been　a　tragedy！”
“I　shouldn’t　have　stopped　him；”　said　Lorenzo。　“Sharkbait。　At　the　river。　He　would’ve　killed
Mackenzie；　but　I　thought…　I　don’t　know　what　I　thought。　If　I’d　kept　quiet；　if　I’d　let　him…　Sharkbait
would　still　be　alive。　And　Brains。”
“Doesn’t　work　like　that；”　said　Woods；　with　more　understanding　than　Lorenzo　would　have
expected　from　him。　“No　one　made　Sharkbait　do　anything　he　didn’t　want　to　do。　You　made　him　think；
is　all。　He　let　Mackenzie　off　the　hook　for　the　same　reason　any　of　us　would’ve　done　it：　because　when
the　commissar’s　harness　went　and　he　grabbed　for　that　rope　and　he　held　on；　he　surprised　us　all。　You
were　right；　Lorenzo。　You　can’t　deny　a　man　a　second　chance　after　proving　himself　like　that。”
“Even　so…”
“If　the　light　hadn’t　got　Mackenzie；”　said　Woods；　“it　would’ve　worked　its　influence　on　someone
else。　Braxton；　maybe。　Or…　or…　I　told　you；　Lorenzo；　I　felt　it　in　my　head。　I　felt　it　calling　to　me—and
in　that　second；　I　think　I　would’ve　done　just　about　anything　it　told　me　to　do。”
That　sealed　it。　This　wasn’t　the　Woods　that　Lorenzo　knew。　He　turned　to　his　comrade　with　a　new
anxiety　prickling　at　him；　and　he　said；　“You　never　told　me　about　yourself。　How　you　ended　up…　I
mean；　how　you　went　on。　Last　night。”
“Hey；　don’t　worry　about　me；”　said　Woods　cheerfully。　“I　did　okay。　Really。　Just　tired　myself　out；
is　all—and　you　know　Greiss：　he　likes　to　think　he’s　looking　after　us。　He　said　if　I　didn’t　come　in　here
for　a　lie…down；　he’d　knock　me　out　himself。”
“Right；”　said　Lorenzo；　not　quite　buying　it。　He　was　just　starting　to　realise　how　pale　his　comrade
seemed　where　the　daylight　fell　across　him。　Sweat　beaded　his　brow；　as　if　he　was　feverish—or
perhaps　he　too　was　just　hot　in　his　ork　furs。
“Seriously；”　said　Woods；　“you　think　this　looks　bad；　you　should　see　the　ork　that　did　it　to　me。　I
should　say；　the　twenty　orks！”　And　he　launched　into　a　detailed　and　bloody　account　of　every　punch　he
had　thrown；　every　shot　he　had　fired；　every　thrust　of　his　devil　claw　against　the　ork　hordes。
Lorenzo　stopped　listening　after　a　time。　He　tuned　out　the　words；　and　strained　to　catch　the　distant；
muffled　sounds　beyond　the　hut’s　walls：　footsteps；　scraping；　the　odd　snatch　of　conversation。　He　felt
as　if　he　had　been　lying　in　this　bed　for　an　age；　and　he　longed　to　feel　fresh　air　on　his　face；　to　catch　up
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with　the　comrades　he　had　thought　he　would　never　see　again。　To　see　what　fresh　challenges　had　arisen
in　his　absence。
He　knew　he　should　wait。　He　didn’t　know　the　extent　of　his　injuries。　He　didn’t　feel　too　badly　hurt；
but　then　his　head　was　muzzy　and　he　could　have　been　in　shock。　He　could　have　been　infected。　But
normally；　the　person　to　tell　him　that—the　man　who　ought　to　have　been　at　his　bedside　with　his
revolting　herbal　cures—was　Brains。　Lorenzo　couldn’t　bear　to　wait　any　longer。
Woods　had　fallen　silent。　Lorenzo　realised　he　was　asleep。
He　peeled　off　his　bed　coverings　and　tested　each　of　his　limbs；　trying　his　weight　on　them；　before
he　levered　himself　to　his　feet。　He　swayed　a　little；　and　felt　sickness　rising　in　his　throat　but　suppressed
it。　Morning　air　breezed　in　through　the　window；　and　prickled　his　skin　like　pins　and　needles。　He　crept
over　to　Woods　and　put　his　hand　to　his　forehead；　finding　it　hot　like　a　simmering　pan。　He　located　his
clothes　and　backpack　in　a　pile　in　the　corner；　with　Muldoon’s　lasgun　laid　out　almost　reverently
across　them。
His　jacket　felt　heavy　and　grimy　against　his　skin；　its　insides　caked　with　his　own　dried　blood。　It
was　only　when　he　saw　his　water　bo