Laurels Literary Magazine Spring 2015 | Page 77

glancing back toward her. “Care to have a go when all this is over?” She sighed. Ahead, the snowfall remained passive and still. The clouds above them suggested the weather would remain constant for some time. Through her scope, she could make out the front of them. Four watchtowers overlooked the base, and surfaceto-air missiles, ground vehicles, and even small aircraft wellconcealed in crags of surrounding mountains were suddenly very visible. Clones of men clad in light grey fur clothing walked along the ramparts doing menial tasks. Surrich inhaled the air again. “You really like the smell of nature,” Watney observed. nature. Smells like . . . gas.” Watney adjusted her scope. “According to Intel, the compound was built on top of an abandoned fuel depot. She laughed, enough for Surrich to smile himself. He Z sure it must be nice.” “A pickup game of chess would be nice, too.” He regarded her as she observed the valley, scope held tight with planning in advance.” He peered down into the valley and reached forward, adjusting his own scope. “I just want you to look forward to something for once.” If she heard him, she gave no indication. Surrich exhaled, reapplied his visor, and returned to his scope. Almost immediately, his sights caught on to movement at the edge of his peripheral. He squinted. There was no way. [66]