EXHALE. INCH FORWARD. Stop to breathe. Exhale. Another few inches. Collins could not decide if it was his toes or his hips or his stomach that propelled him forward. Right arm lying ahead of him, left arm pressed against his side. Headlamp lighting the tunnel ahead. He was nearing the discolored rock again.
Behind him, Logan and Surtees were watching the slow progress of his feet receding from them, waiting for him to reach the further chamber. The woman and her strange behaviour occupied Collins' thoughts. Back at camp, he had pressed her again, more gently this time, to explain herself, but she remained closed-lipped. Changing the subject, Logan had asked her about the samples she was collecting. She was not much more forthcoming, only mumbling something about they had looked interestin
