Tunnels 04, Closer

either trying to eat you, or you might try to eat it.
    And he'd certainly never witnessed such a profusion of birds in Highfield. I'm a city boy , Chester reflected, as he listened to the cacophony of birdsong, but then reconsidered this. His life in Highfield felt like such a long time ago, and he really didn't know what he was any longer.
    Bustling around at the edge of the clearing, Martha was lopping off branches, which she was using to build a pair of lean-to shelters either side of a coppiced ash. The shelters were too close to each other for Chester's liking, but he had no say in the matter. Besides, he was utterly exhausted -- he yearned to lie down and go to sleep. Both he and Martha had helped themselves to sleeping bags from the quartermaster's stores in the fallout shelter, and he was just pulling his from the bottom of his rucksack when he heard a hiss. "Was that you?" he asked wearily, without bothering to look up.
    "Quiet!" Martha ordered in a low voice.
    Still on her haunches, she moved crablike toward him. He'd just turned to see what she was talking about when she knocked him to the ground. "Quiet. Quiet. Quiet," she was saying repeatedly as she fell on top of him, and tried to cup a hand over his mouth.
    Caught in the beam from his luminescent orb, Martha's face was centimeters from his. Chester was treated to a close-up of the curly red whiskers growing on her chin.
    "No!" he yelled, as he managed to push her off. Now they were side by side on the ground, she still refused to let go of him. As he shouted at her, she kept trying to stifle him with her hands.
    He was fending her away from his face, and they were both breathing heavily from the exertion as they cursed each other. Chester was surprised at just how strong she was. The struggle devolved into an exchange of slaps as they turned circles on the forest floor, ploughing up twigs and leaf debris in their wake.
    "Just stop it!" he cried.
    He'd drawn back his arm with his fist clenched, ready to punch her, when his panic cleared for a split second. His father's stern words came back to him.
    You never hit a lady .
    Chester hesitated.
    "Lady?" he muttered, asking himself whether Martha qualified for this description.
    But he had to do something to stop this ridiculous struggle.
    He swung at Martha, connecting with her jaw. The blow jerked her head to one side and she immediately released him. Chester couldn't get to his feet quickly enough, scrambling away from her.
    "What the hell's wrong with you?" he yelled from the edge of the clearing, worried she was going to come at him again. He was short of breath and had difficulty getting his words out. "Have you gone completely mad?"
    She began to crawl toward him, but then got up on her knees. She didn't seem angry with him. Instead there was a look of terror in her eyes as she held out her jaw, and peered up at the tops of trees around the edge of the clearing.
    "Didn't you hear it?" she whispered urgently.
    "Hear what?" Chester said, poised to run if she made a move toward him.
    "That noise," she replied.
    Chester didn't answer right away. "All I hear is birds -- millions of bloody birds," he replied. "That's all."
    "It was no bird," she said, almost gabbling she was so frightened. She was still looking upwards, eyeing the grey sky between the trees. "It was a Bright. I heard the beat of its wings. One of them's trailed us up here. They do that -- I told you. I had one of them after me in the Deeps. Once they fix on you, they don't give--"
    "A Bright? That's totally hat stand!" Chester interrupted. "You heard some pigeon or sparrow fly over us. There aren't any Brights here, you bloody idiot."
    He'd had enough of this nonsense. The Brights were huge moth-like predators with an unrivaled appetite for meat, particularly human meat. Although they might have been one of the worst threats in the levels deeper down in the Earth where Martha had been living, he just didn't accept that one could have pursued them all the way to the surface. "You're losing the plot!" he shouted at her.
    She was massaging her chin where he'd struck her. "I was only trying to save you, Chester," she said meekly. "I was trying to protect you, so if it swooped, it would take me... not you."
    Chester didn't know what to think.
    He felt bad about hitting her --if she'd really believed that a Bright had been about to attack, then he understood why she'd acted the way she had, and he should be grateful. But how could it be a