So as I was saying, next that happened, Lucas woke up.
First thing he touched on he said, was the swaying of the hammock under his little brush lean-to. He said he remembered noticing that the leaf and dirt-covered branches of the shelter were warmly lit- like as if they glowed, he'd say. He turned his head to look at the fire, he said, as his dream from the night before dissolved back away from the light of his waking life. DISORIENTED was the word he used here, and that struck me, because it was never really a kind of word he was usual to use.
He squinted his eyes, he said, to get his bearings, and looked around to gauge the activity of the garrison. The fort, he said, was in the DEEP wilderness of Tenarus, in the lowlands somewhere between Switzerland and Austria, he said this time. And he never could remember why they were there, although he knew how bizarre and dangerous it was. They were there to stop whatever it was the Nazis had let out of the mountain heart, and he hated to think about it, I knew.
Anyhow, it was a sloppy bog, with firm dark mud everywhere, running level as far as he could see, he said. Though he could not see far on account of the thick fog that always held outside the wall of the OUTPOST. The wall was made of the thick black trees that stuck out like grasping, bony fingers all around through the mist. There were great looming shadows in the distance, he said, that could have been the mountains. He couldn't ever be totally sure. Which didn't make sense to me because how in the hell did he get there without knowing something about what was around him? There was lots that was strange about those times, he would always tell me.
First thing he touched on he said, was the swaying of the hammock under his little brush lean-to. He said he remembered noticing that the leaf and dirt-covered branches of the shelter were warmly lit- like as if they glowed, he'd say. He turned his head to look at the fire, he said, as his dream from the night before dissolved back away from the light of his waking life. DISORIENTED was the word he used here, and that struck me, because it was never really a kind of word he was usual to use.
He squinted his eyes, he said, to get his bearings, and looked around to gauge the activity of the garrison. The fort, he said, was in the DEEP wilderness of Tenarus, in the lowlands somewhere between Switzerland and Austria, he said this time. And he never could remember why they were there, although he knew how bizarre and dangerous it was. They were there to stop whatever it was the Nazis had let out of the mountain heart, and he hated to think about it, I knew.
Anyhow, it was a sloppy bog, with firm dark mud everywhere, running level as far as he could see, he said. Though he could not see far on account of the thick fog that always held outside the wall of the OUTPOST. The wall was made of the thick black trees that stuck out like grasping, bony fingers all around through the mist. There were great looming shadows in the distance, he said, that could have been the mountains. He couldn't ever be totally sure. Which didn't make sense to me because how in the hell did he get there without knowing something about what was around him? There was lots that was strange about those times, he would always tell me.
Anyways, as groggy as he was, Lucas said, he forced himself to ease out of the hammock in a way that kept him from slopping face-first into the muck. He was successful in this for once, and stretched as he walked to limber up and get a better look around. The walls seemed to be about 20 or 25 feet high and several feet thick. There were lookout towers around inside the walls, he said, but he couldn't rightly see how to get up into them without causing a fuss. Bisecting the fort, was a sort of catwalk with big obvious stairs at either end. It seemed high enough to get a look of the land, so he made his way over. As he climbed the steps, he noticed that the land to the left side of the camp- the shadow that could have been a mountain was to the right- there weren't no trees sticking up that he could see. As he got to the top, he realized there were no trees there because they were close to the shore of a huge lake. Furthermore, he said, as he walked the planks, he saw that outside of the wall towards which he was walking, there was a great rushing river feeding into and back from the body of water that could have been a lake. He said that it reminded him of if the Amazon River had moved to England, though I know for a fact that he's never been to either of those places. "Shut the fuck up and let me talk," he'd say. I did like to yank his chain.
Now, at this point, he says, now that he got his bearings and was reasonably woke, he started to look about inside to see what the men were up to. And when he did, he about shit his pants. An action, he said, he might of actually followed through with on account of the slop he'd been eating.
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