Tunnels 04, Closer

more interested n the ground just in front of him. Drake took out his handgun and watched as Eddie picked away some fallen branches and tufts of dried grass. Drake couldn't understand what he was doing. Then he saw why. Eddie had cleared enough of the branches and grass to reveal that they were masking a panel of criss-crossed sticks, under which was a slit trench. Drake could see that in the bottom of the deep trench a row of stakes had been stuck in the newly dug earth. Stakes with sharpened tips.
    He met Eddie's eyes. It was a trap pit -- hardly what one would expect in rural Norfolk. Although they didn't speak, the question that occurred to both of them was whether the trap had been laid for an animal -- and a relatively large one at that -- or for a human being. Its size and position certainly suggested the latter.
    Eddie gave the sign and they went around the trench, checking and double-checking every inch of the ground on the way to the hedge. Drake found a point in the hedge where the growth was less dense, and began to probe it with his hand. He came across a length of twine stretched tight at about shoulder height, and was careful not to disturb it. It might have been completely harmless, but he wasn't about to take the risk.
    Keeping close to the hedge, they moved to their left, spotting the roof of a shed on the other side. AS the hedge turned a right angle, the small hillock lay directly ahead of them. Eddie pointed at his rifle and then to the top of the hillock -- Drake understood he was going to get himself to a high viewpoint where he could use his night scope.
    Meanwhile Drake continued along the hedge, finding another place where he could ease himself through it. He emerged onto a flower bed and remained there for a moment, keeping low as he surveyed the garden. It all looked innocent enough -- an arbor, some chairs and a bench, and a bird table -- nothing out of the ordinary, and all rather twee. A city dwellers' idea of a country garden.
    But whoever had dug that trap had wanted to discourage visitors, and didn't mind killing them in the bargain. It was unlikely to be the Styx -- the trap was far too crude for them. Drake's mind raced with the alternatives. It suggested renegades to him, but that was only a wild guess. He was beginning to wonder if he'd even find Chester at the end of this trail -- for all Drake knew someone might have helped themselves to one of the radio beacons and planted it here.
    He edged forward, smelling something unpleasant. It grew stronger as he came closer to the garden shed. As he reached it, he waited for a moment, listening and making sure there wasn't any movement in the garden, then stuck a finger behind the door and gently pulled it open.
    Angry flies buzzed at his intrusion and the stench was indescribable.
    He gasped in horror.
    He counted four bodies on the floor of the shed, in a state of semi-undress. A woman and three men, and from the dark blue trousers and light blue shirt, the uppermost and most recent of the corpses could have been a postman. It was one thing to see soldiers who had been recently killed in a combat situation -- that was something he'd learnt to deal with -- but these were civilians, and badly decomposed ones at that.
    Then he noticed something else.
    "Oh, Jesus," he croaked.
    He brought his hand up to his mouth and tried not to make any noise as he gagged.
    It wasn't just the reek of decay in the shed and the spectacle of the slaughtered.
    Pieces of the bodies were missing, flesh carved from the bones.
    He quickly backed away, pulling the door as he left, then headed for the avenue of trees just beyond the garden furniture. He might have been moving a little too hastily, but he couldn't take any more of that smell.
    So now there was no question that he was dealing with someone completely beyond the pale, someone savage. At least Chester hadn't been one of those bodies, but who knew what sort of situation he was caught up in? If he was still alive, Drake had to get him out fast.
    Drake controlled his breathing as he drew on all his senses. He could see the cottage clearly through his lens, but he didn't go down the avenue of trees -- both it and the small garden gate at the end were an obvious location for an ambush or a booby trap.
    Instead he moved across the lawn to his left, heading toward the side of the cottage. Once there, he stayed off the path, treading carefully in the soft earth of the border, and then climbed over a low