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headed back up to the clearing； but we found another way out。” He nodded in the direction from
which he and Braxton had appeared。 “We take that； chances are we’ll run into less opposition along
the way。 That is； if the whole tunnel hasn’t collapsed by now。”
“Let me lead the way；” said Lorenzo。
Greiss snarled。 “Like hell！ In case you hadn’t noticed； trooper； I am not dead yet—and I’m still
in charge of this squad； what’s left of it。”
“That’s not what I meant； sergeant。 I’ve been having a… a… I don’t know how to describe it；
some kind of an instinct about the quake。 Like I know how the earth’s going to move； where it’s
safe to step； where…” Lorenzo tailed off； embarrassed at how implausible the words sounded out
loud。
But Greiss just regarded him coolly for a moment； then nodded and grunted； “Step to it； then。”
Lorenzo set off sure…footedly； affecting confidence while inwardly he half…expected his luck to
run out at any moment。 Then； there it was again： that indefinable feeling； that tug in a certain
direction。 Greiss indicated a tunnel mouth ahead of them； but Lorenzo balked at a direct approach；
and picked out a circuitous path towards their goal instead。 His caution was rewarded as a lava
stream bubbled and spat its contents straight up like a geyser。
The Jungle Fighters hugged the wall； keeping just out of range of burning droplets； until they
reached the tunnel and stumbled gratefully into its stale but cooler embrace。 After that； their
progress was a little easier； because there were no lava streams up here and because they could lean
on the walls for support。 To some extent； anyway。 A particularly violent shudder pinballed the trio
from one side of the passageway to the other and back； and made Greiss curse and demand to know
why Lorenzo hadn’t felt that one coming。
Darkness enveloped them； and Lorenzo snapped on his helmet light； which luckily still worked。
They passed several junctions； with Greiss bellowing directions at each one—and they found their
path strewn with crushed ork bodies； and had to squeeze their way around more than one partial
cave…in。
It was Braxton who first voiced the feeling that they were being followed； though when Lorenzo
shone his light behind them they could see nothing。 Greiss urged them on； and eventually he
directed them into an upward…leading passageway that was smoother and straighter than the others；
obviously worked； like the one they had followed down from the clearing。
The first set of wooden struts they came across had slipped and buckled but； miraculously； held；
they climbed past them gingerly。 The second had broken into splinters； but fortunately the roof was
staying up by itself。
It was just past the third that their luck ran out。
Lorenzo heard the orks ahead of them before he saw them。 There were a half…dozen of them；
jabbering in panic as they tried to dig through a pile of rubble that had completely blocked the
tunnel。 They were succeeding mostly in getting in each other’s way： as the Jungle Fighters watched；
one ork accidentally embedded its pickaxe in the skull of another。
They were sitting ducks for a volley of las…fire； the narrow confines ensuring that even through
the quake most of the Jungle Fighters’ shots found a target。 The orks； in turn； didn’t seem to be
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armed—and； taken by surprise； they jostled with each other in their haste to close with their
attackers； more than one of them stumbling in the melee and being manhandled aside。 A single
greenskin made it within knife range—and this； Lorenzo made short work of with his Catachan
fang。
As he yanked his blade out of the ork’s chest； he stumbled； brushed the tunnel wall with his bare
arm and recoiled from its unexpected heat。 Greiss had felt it too； and he gave Lorenzo a quizzical
look。 “Lava；” he confirmed。 “It’s alright—it hasn’t built up enough pressure yet to cause a burst。
We’ve got a few minutes。”
Greiss nodded； and asked； “How far to the surface？”
“Almost there。 Just the other side of that cave…in。”
“Guess the orks had the right idea； then；” said Greiss—and the Jungle Fighters rummaged amid
the corpses of their enemies to retrieve their pickaxes and spades； and set about the blockage with
gusto and a great deal more efficiency and teamwork than the greenskins had demonstrated。
Lorenzo was worried about Greiss。 He had retied his bandana like a bandage over his head
wound—but the bleeding showed no sign of abating； red rivulets rolling down his cheek。 None of
this seemed to lessen the zeal with which he swung his pickaxe； but then Lorenzo had learned to
expect no less from him。
“Looks like you were right； Braxton；” Greiss murmured—and Lorenzo swung around； and this
time his light beam did pick out something。 A lot of somethings； no longer bothering to hide。
Ork zombies； shuffling up the tunnel behind them。 They could only fit two abreast with their
broad shoulders； but their ranks extended further back than Lorenzo could see—and； at their heart：
the chilling sight of an even bulkier creature that could only have been the warboss himself； his skull
half…caked with mud but stripped to the bone beneath this。
There was still too far to dig； no way they could escape in time。 There were too many sources of
fresh corpses for Rogar to use against them； even discounting those orks that had been melted in
lava or whose bones had been shattered。 Lorenzo found himself averting his gaze from the
oncoming army—not through fear of their strength and numbers； but lest he glimpse the familiar
shape of a lost comrade among them。
“Looks like this is it；” growled Greiss。
“No； sergeant；” protested Lorenzo—though he knew it was hopeless too。 “Not now。 Not when
we’re so close！”
“I didn’t mean the end for all of us。 Just me。 About damn time！”
“What… what are you…？” Lorenzo began—but Greiss hefted his pickaxe； and Lorenzo saw that
gleam in his eyes； saw where it was focused； and suddenly he knew what the sergeant was planning。
And； impulsively； he laid a restraining hand on his shoulder and he said； “Let me。”
“What’s wrong with you； trooper？” snapped Greiss。 “That’s ty orders；
and I’m telling you； I don’t like it！”
“You’ve taken worse hits than this； sergeant。 I know you have。 You aren’t going to let some
dumb ork get the better of you； are you？”
“Too damn old；” grumbled Greiss。 “This was always going to be my last outing。 And you；
Lorenzo； you got a job to do。 You’re the only one who can tell Patch’s story。 I’m only sorry I won’t
be around to hear it。”
“I… I’m dying too； sergeant。 Poisoned。”
Greiss looked Lorenzo up and down； and said curtly； “You look alright to me。” Lorenzo couldn’t
argue； because Greiss was right—because； exhausted and hurt though he was； he realised only now
that the effects of the effigy’s venom； the nausea and the dizziness； had receded。
Then Greiss clapped him on the arm and smiled grimly。 “Live for me。 Tell everyone I did it； got
my blaze of glory。 And don’t be so damn impatient for yours。 Way I see it； you got a lot of stories in
you yet； you only just earned your name。”
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He turned and； before Lorenzo could say anything else—before he could think what to say—he
was charging at the front rank of zombies with a bloodcurdling scream。 As he reached them； as they
grabbed and clawed at him； he smashed his pickaxe into the wall beside them； again and again； until
the first crack began to show… and to widen… and explode。
A deluge of lava crashed into the passageway； and surged downhill。 It subsumed Sergeant Greiss
and the zombies； swept them away； and Lorenzo knew that this time there wouldn’t be enough left
of any of them for Rogar to reanimate。 He turned away； couldn’t watch； concentrated on the
blockage in front of him； swinging his pickaxe in time with Braxton’s； driving himself on； ignoring
the pain in his fractured wrist； not letting himself think about anything but the task at hand because
if he did think about it； what had happened to Greiss and Armstrong and Myers and Storm and all
the others； if he really thought about it； he might have been overwhelmed by the unfairness of it all。
Why them？ Why them an