That throbbing pain in Malcolm's head, just behind the eyes, had flared up again today, though moments when his vision skewed were fewer, so far, than in the past two days. The little things made him thankful in the harsh environment. But he didn't dare thing it was about to be a sign of a good day. There were no good days here.

At first, he thought he was imagining the noise, something on the wind, like other sounds that had blown on through, but he stopped to strain his ears to listen. He felt it, a rhythm shocking through the ground up through his feet. And on the wind, a mechanical noise.

"Hold up!" he called out sharply, coming out much more an order than a suggestion. His weapon was at the ready. "Does anyone else hear that?"