Authors: Caroline Clough
When Toby woke up he found himself in his own room in the lighthouse in Collieston.
I’m dreaming, he thought. Must be. The last thing I remember was, er … was chatting to Sylvie and … Jamie?
He sat up in his bed then winced. There was a large white pad on his right hand. He remembered now. Jamie had put a fresh bandage on his hand, and then?
“Hi! How are you feeling?” asked his dad, rubbing his eyes. “I’ve been sleeping right here, to keep an eye on you.” His dad unfurled himself from the old armchair by the window.
“How long have I been here?” croaked Toby. His throat still felt sore and dry.
“A couple of days. We got back not long after you
passed out. You’ve had a fever,” said his dad.
“I feel … I’m not sure yet. I feel a bit funny. Sort of light-headed. Is this what a hangover feels like?” asked Toby, propping himself up on his pillows.
“I don’t know, haven’t had one since I was a student. You gave us a nasty fright. Jamie thinks you had blood poisoning from that wound on your hand. When you started to burn up, I didn’t know what to do. In the old days, the doctors would have pumped you full of antibiotics. But we’ve not had much luck finding any of those, have we?”
“So what happened?” asked Toby. He was puzzled. How come, according to his dad, he was dying one moment, and the next … well, here he was.
“It was Jamie. I’m not quite sure what he did. He made a poultice for your hand, out of seaweed or something. Then he made this weird-smelling drink out of some dried fungi he had in his pocket. Next thing I know, your temperature has dropped and you’re sleeping like a baby.”
“Are you sure? That sounds so weird,” said Toby.
“Yeah, I’m sure. But why didn’t you tell me you’d hurt yourself? I could have dressed that for you before it went septic!” His dad was trying hard not to sound cross with him, but Toby could see that he hadn’t needed anything else to worry about. He looked exhausted.
“There wasn’t time, Dad. Everything happened so quickly,” said Toby. “I didn’t realise how bad it had got.”
“OK, I know, Tobes. It was a pretty rough mission, wasn’t it? Eh? Well, we’re home again now. Trouble is, we’re no better off then we were. We didn’t find any medicines. In fact, we’re worse off. We’ve got another mouth to feed now.”
“Two. We’ve got two extra mouths to feed now,” Toby corrected him.
“Huh, if Jamie thinks I’m going to feed that enormous dog, he’s mistaken. He’ll have to scavenge for it, on his own.”
“Be fair, Dad. He can’t do that. From what you’re saying, he saved my life. And maybe he’ll be able to help Sylvie. We’ll give him our scraps to feed Belle.”
“What do you mean scraps?” snapped his dad. “We’ve never any leftovers. Anything we don’t eat goes into the soup pot or the chickens’ feed.”
Toby sighed; he didn’t feel up to arguing with his dad. His body ached and his hand throbbed. He wanted to sleep and wake up to find all the problems and worries of his world had been solved by someone, as if by magic.
I can’t think right now, I’m so tired, and I just want to go to sleep. I’ll think about this later.
Toby yawned, turned over and was asleep in seconds.
His next visitor was Jamie, who crept into his bedroom and peered quizzically at him.
“Hi, Toby, how’s it going?” said Jamie quietly.
“Oh, oh,” groaned Toby. “My head hurts, in fact everything hurts.”
“Here, drink this.” Jamie held out a chipped mug full of a pink gooey substance that Toby wouldn’t have described as a drink.
“What’s that?” asked Toby, pulling himself carefully into a sitting position.
“Call it a health drink,” said Jamie. “I’ve been out gathering berries and stuff. Did you know you’ve got a really good harvest of blaeberries on the cliffs round the corner?”
“Blaeberries?” said Toby. “On the cliffs? What were you doing on the cliffs? Don’t you know it’s dangerous? What if the dogs had seen you?”
“I had Belle with me. She stands guard whilst I forage for anything that might be of use. You’d be amazed at what’s out there.”
“Yeah? I’d be amazed if there was anything nice out there,” said Toby ruefully, “especially anything worth the risk of being attacked by the dogs!”
“Do you have much trouble from the local dogs?” asked Jamie.
“Yeah, some,” replied Toby gruffly. “That’s why Dad
put those huge gates up outside the compound.”
“This is a great place,” said Jamie, wandering around Toby’s bedroom. “Must be really cool to live in a lighthouse.”
“It was a right dump when we moved in, but Dad’s done a lot to it,” said Toby. He swung his legs out of the bed. “Hey, I’m feeling a bit better now. My head’s stopped throbbing. Pass me my clothes and I’ll get up and give you a tour.”
Toby started his tour of the lighthouse at the very top. The boys climbed up the wooden ladder into the
sun-filled
lamp room.
“This is the best room in the house,” said Toby. He loved it up here. He felt like he was in a balloon, floating over the blue sea, with the gulls calling to him as they flew alongside. There were huge windows all the way round through which the sunlight danced, bouncing off the massive silvery lenses in the centre.
“Wow!” exclaimed Jamie. “What a view!” The expanse of sparkling blue sea stretched out below them for miles and miles and miles.
“Dad’s got the light working again,” said Toby, proudly, pointing to the eight highly-polished lenses in the middle of the room. They sat on a circular frame under which there was a whole arrangement of brass cogs and wheels.
“See,” he pointed to the lamp in the centre, “that’s the source of light. These lenses magnify it and send the light out for miles. This mechanism under here rotates the lenses on this frame so that a different pattern of light is sent out from each lighthouse. Clever, eh?”
“Why’s that then?” asked Jamie.
“So the sailors knew where they were from the different patterns from different lighthouses, you muppet,” laughed Toby. Sometimes, for someone who appeared to be so clever, Jamie was incredibly stupid.
“Dad and I take it in turns to keep watch up here. See, we’ve got a telescope too.” Toby pointed to the tripod and large telescope which sat in the narrow galley that went round the room between the lenses and the windows. “Have a look.”
Jamie pulled the telescope eyepiece towards him.
“Can you see Aberdeen from here?” he asked.
“Yeah, on a clear day. You can see the tower blocks down by the beach at the Bridge of Don,” replied Toby.
“How far is it from here, by boat I mean?” Jamie asked.
“I’m not sure really. Can’t be that far. It used to take us less than an hour by car to get to Aberdeen, and if anything it’s nearer by boat. You can travel as the crow flies, straight there.”
“Really?” Jamie swung the telescope round to face
southwards. “Yes, you’re right, I can see the tower blocks poking up.”
“D’you know Aberdeen at all?” asked Toby.
“My mum and I lived there. Then when Cerberus took over, we moved out to Newburgh, where the experimental station is.”
“Whoa, whoa! Hang on a minute. Who’s Cerberus? And what do you mean took over?” exclaimed Toby. Jamie kept his eye fixed on the distant spot that was Aberdeen.
“Cerberus is the leader of the dogs in Aberdeen. He controls the whole city now.”
“What? You’re trying to tell me that this Cerberus is in charge of all the dogs in Aberdeen? That’s barmy! How can a dog do that? And who called it Cerberus anyway? You’ll be telling me next that dogs have learnt to talk!”
“My mum called him Cerberus, after the three-headed hound that guards the gates of hell. And no, they haven’t learnt to talk, but they have learnt how to work together to survive. They already knew how to communicate, just not in words,” explained Jamie.
“How come you know all this?”
“My mum, I told you, she’s a scientist. She used to work on human behaviour at the Rowett Research Institute, but since the dogs went wild, she’s been studying them.”
“So where is she now?” Toby was intrigued. This story was getting weirder and weirder.
“Aberdeen,” said Jamie quietly.
“What? You’re joking? Aberdeen’s been a no-go zone for over a year now. She doesn’t stand a chance … she can’t still be alive …” Toby suddenly realised what he was saying. “Sorry, Jamie, I didn’t mean …”
“No, you’re wrong. I know she’s still alive. I can sense her. I’d know if anything had happened to her.”
Toby felt overwhelmingly sad. He could remember how he had reacted to his mum’s accident. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. And afterwards, sometimes, he had sensed her, as if she had never gone away.
“Look, Jamie, I know how you’re feeling right now. Believe me, I do. But you need to come to grips with the loss of …”
“She is not dead, I tell you!” Jamie screamed back at Toby.
“OK, OK, so she’s not dead. Calm down. You’ll upset Sylvie if she hears you shouting.” Toby tried to soothe the boy who was facing him, with his blue eyes staring piercingly at him.
He looks scary when he does that!
Jamie’s outburst shocked him. He hadn’t seen much of Jamie since they rescued him, but he’d got the impression that he was a very quiet, almost withdrawn boy. He was obviously wrong.
“I’m sorry,” said Jamie. “But she really is alive. She went to Aberdeen to study the dog packs there. I saw her a couple of months ago. She came back to the station for a few days to see if I was OK.”
“What? She left you at Newburgh on your own?” said Toby incredulously, but then remembered that
his
dad had sent him alone on to an oil platform.
“I wasn’t alone. I was with a girl called Maggie who used to work at the same place as my mum. But then this man came and Maggie wanted to go with him, so I had to go too. They forced me to go with them. That’s how I ended up at Cruden Bay.”
“So as far as you know, your mum is still in Aberdeen?” asked Toby.
“Yes, she was supposed to come back and fetch me once she’d finished her research. But she never came. So Maggie said she wasn’t coming back and we had to move because the packs were getting nearer.”
“What d’you mean, the packs were getting nearer?”
“It’s like I told you. The dogs are getting organised. The packs are coming out of Aberdeen under Cerberus’s command and taking over everything.”
“This sounds so weird. You’d better tell my dad. Come on, let’s find him.”
Toby’s dad was outside in the yard splitting logs for the stove. The yard was inside the lighthouse’s compound,
with tall walls surrounding it. They had fixed reels of barbed wire on the top of the walls to stop the dogs jumping over. Outside the compound were more gates and wire fencing to stop the dogs getting on to the promontory on which the lighthouse stood.
“Dad!” Toby called. His dad came over to the two boys. “You need to hear what Jamie has to say about the dogs,” Toby told him. The three of them sat on an old bench and Jamie repeated what he had just told Toby. His dad rubbed the sweat from his brow with a grimy hand.
“I’d heard stories from folk who’d stopped in Aberdeen. It sounded pretty grim. One of them had seen a big black dog leading a pack of dogs. The guy said that the pack seemed to be patrolling the harbour, on the lookout for new ships coming in. The folk thought it was too dangerous so they didn’t get off the boat.”
“Patrolling? Are dogs clever enough to do that?” asked Toby.
“Yes, according to my mum, they are,” said Jamie. “She said that Cerberus appeared to have organised the dogs into battalions, y’know like an army has? Each battalion was given its own area to patrol.”
“What’s your mum doing there?” asked Toby’s dad. Toby could see that his dad was taking Jamie’s story seriously.
I think the boy’s mad! I mean, some cranky crackpot story of dogs acting like soldiers! How nutty does that sound?
“She’s been studying the dogs for about two years now. She knows Aberdeen really well; she grew up there. Her dad, my grandpaps, was a caretaker at Marischal College. When she was a girl he showed her a set of passageways under the college. I think they were part of the ancient sewerage system running under the city. She’s been using them to get about and spy on the dogs.”
“That’s a very risky thing to do,” said Toby’s dad, the concern showing in his face. “What if they smell her? Dogs have a highly sensitive sense of smell.”
Jamie smiled the first smile that Toby had seen on his face. “Mum has a way of dealing with that. She found a dead badger and cooked it. Then she sprayed the juice all over herself. Dogs hate badgers and won’t go anywhere near them.”
“Yuck!” said Toby and his dad together.
“Yeah, right! Pretty gross, eh?” said Jamie. “Mum’s great. She doesn’t care as long as she gets the job done.”
“D’you know why she’s doing this?” asked Toby’s dad.
“She thinks the dogs are evolving at an extra quick rate,” replied Jamie. “Something to do with
cross-infection
with the red fever virus. The dogs’ powers are super-evolving and they’re getting cleverer and cleverer. That’s her theory, anyway.”
“Super-evolving?” quizzed Toby’s dad. “
Cross-infection
with the virus? I don’t know, Jamie. It all sounds a bit iffy to me.”
“My mum’s a scientist. She has two degrees!” Jamie stared defiantly at Toby and his dad. “Who are you to disagree with her?”
“Er, yep, I’m just a humble engineer. You’re right, what would I know about dog behaviour and evolution? But are you sure your mum was … well … was thinking straight when she came up with these ideas? They do sound a bit crazy.”
“Crazy?” shouted Jamie, standing up and facing them. “Hasn’t the whole world gone crazy? Isn’t it crazy that red fever has wiped out most of mankind?” His hands were clenched into tight fists and he looked like he was about to hit one of them. Then, before Toby or his dad could say a word, Jamie turned on his heels and stormed off.
Later, when Toby had finished his chores, he began to feel a little queasy and light-headed again. He decided to go and lie down on his bed for a nap. As he was going up the stone steps which coiled around the inner wall of the lighthouse, he passed the door to his dad’s bedroom. Here his dad slept, with a small truckle bed in the corner for Sylvie. During the day Sylvie was carried downstairs to lie on an old sofa in the kitchen so she could watch all the comings and goings of the house.
The door of the bedroom was slightly ajar. Toby could hear hushed voices coming from inside. He stood at the door listening. It was his dad talking to Jamie about Sylvie. A rush of jealousy ran through Toby. His dad never talked to him like this about Sylvie. He was
explaining how Sylvie’s health had been slowly getting worse and how her symptoms were so changeable. Some days she appeared to be getting better and other days she was weak and feverish with pains in all her limbs so bad that she couldn’t walk. She had got weaker and weaker as her appetite got less and less.
“But Toby said it wasn’t red fever,” said Jamie. Toby held his breath. Would his dad be mad that he’d said that?
“We’d thought she was immune to red fever,” interrupted Toby’s dad. “We thought we all were … but she’s been so ill — what with the rash and the feverishness — I’ve been so worried. She’s been getting weaker and weaker. I’m scared we’re going to lose her.”
“Maybe it’s ME,” Jamie continued.
What did he know? Was he a doctor? Jamie was the same age as Toby, but his dad was paying his opinions as much attention as if he was talking to a real doctor. Toby angrily shoved the door open.
“What are you talking about?” he asked. His dad got to his feet.
“Oh, Toby, there you are. Jamie and I were just discussing Sylvie’s illness. He thinks that she might have ME, not red fever.”
“And what’s that?” asked Toby sulkily.
“Myalgic Encephalomyelitis. And I’m not saying that is what’s she’s got — just that it could be,” replied Jamie.
“Eh?” Toby didn’t think he could have even
pronounced
it, never mind known what it was.
“Apparently, we’ve been doing all the right things for her,” said his dad.
“I’m so glad,” said Toby truculently. “So how did she get this Myalgic … whatever it is?”
“Nobody really knows for certain,” replied Jamie, “but another name for it is Post Viral Fatigue Syndrome, so I suppose she may have had a small dose of the virus. She had enough immunity to fight it off but it left her in a very weak state. Another theory is that a big shock can trigger it off.”
It took a moment for Toby and his dad to absorb all the new information. Toby knew what his dad was thinking. Sylvie had had the biggest shock of her life — losing her mum. And whose fault was that?
“So, what do we have to find to cure her?” asked Toby’s dad.
“There’s not a cure, as such.” Jamie turned to look at Toby. He seemed shocked when he saw the angry look on Toby’s face. “She’s not to be stressed or do anything tiring.”
Why is he looking at me? Has Dad told him what happened? Does he know about Mum?
“It’s difficult not to stress her — this life isn’t exactly stress-free,” sighed his dad.
“You mustn’t let her pick up any infections,” continued Jamie. “Her immune system is very weak, so she has no resistance to germs. If she catches even just a cold …”
“I think we know what you’re trying to say,” Toby interrupted. “She’ll die if we don’t look after her properly!”
“Now, Toby,” said his dad. “That’s not what Jamie said. He was only trying to say how important …”
“I know what he was trying to say, Dad!” cried Toby. He left before the tears that were pricking the back of his eyes could run down his cheeks.
He makes it sound like it’s my fault that Sylvie’s ill. It’s all because of what happened to Mum. It was all my fault and Dad’s never going to forgive me!
Toby ran up the stone steps, past his own bedroom door on the next level and then climbed the steep wooden staircase into the lamp room. He threw himself against the window, the sobs wrenching from his chest.
I hate Jamie! Why did he have to come? We were doing OK before he came. We didn’t need to know what was wrong with Sylvie. We were doing the right things. He’s just making Dad remember how it all started. And that it’s all my fault. I hate him!
But Toby knew inside that this wasn’t about Jamie. It was the thought of losing Sylvie that hurt the most. He couldn’t lose her, not after losing his mum. It was too much. He burrowed his face into his arms and cried.
Stop crying, you baby. This isn’t going to help. What would Mum say if she could see you now? She’d tell you to man up and get a grip! She was always so brave. She never let things get her down. She stood up to everybody.
Toby wiped his snotty wet face on his jumper, and looked out to sea. The sun was slowly dipping down behind the land to the west, throwing a pink glow on to the peaceful sea. He picked up the end of the telescope and swung it round to face inland. He could see the tiny deserted houses of the village spreading up the hillside. He could see the empty fields behind, which were once full of cattle and sheep. He could see …
What’s that?
He refocused and took another look. There it was, the unmistakable movement of a dog crossing the field. Then another dog appeared, and another. Toby counted five dogs in all, crossing the field as bold as could be.
Strange, where have they come from?
The local dogs usually hunted at night, and besides which, these dogs didn’t look like the ones Toby was used to seeing. The local dogs were thin, mangy-looking beasts, their long matted coats mostly white with black markings. Many of them had been farm collies at one time.
Toby scanned the fields once more. Yes, there they were. These dogs were much bigger, some had short
glossy black coats, others were a mixture of brown and grey with dense curly coats. They looked healthy and fit as they jogged casually over the muddy park and down towards the village.
“Dad!” Toby screamed down the steps. “You’d better come and see this.”
His dad was beside him in seconds, frantically scanning the village.
“Five dogs? You saw five dogs?” he asked.
“Yeah, and they weren’t the usual mangy pack of mutts from round here,” replied Toby.
“I can see them,” said his dad. “They’re going into the Miller’s garage. They won’t find anything to eat in there.” He swung the telescope back to Toby. “Here, you keep an eye on them. I’m going to put the chickens in. I’ll check the fencing and the gates too. Can’t afford to make any mistakes.”
Toby winced.
He meant he would check the gates because he doesn’t trust me to do it after what happened to Mum.
Toby’s dad ran down the stairs. Toby kept the telescope trained on the small village. He saw the dogs leave the garage and trot down the main road. They kept together, their noses not far apart, glancing from side to side as they went. Not one of them stopped to sniff a lamp-post or cock its leg on a bush. They moved as one.
“Are they black?” asked a voice behind him. Toby wheeled round. It was Jamie.
“Some of them are — the biggest ones. And they all look really fit. These are not the local dogs,” replied Toby, trying hard not to feel irritated by Jamie’s presence.
Jamie went over to the window and squinted out, holding his hand up to his eyes.
“I’ve got awful eyesight,” he confessed. “Can’t see a thing. I broke my specs ages ago. I’m lost without them.”
“Ummm,” muttered Toby, trying to feign interest.
“Tell me, what are they doing?”
“I’m not sure. They seem to be doing a reccy of the village at the moment,” said Toby.
“It’s exactly what Mum said,” whispered Jamie, as if to himself. “The dogs are moving in organised packs out of Aberdeen and into the countryside. They’re taking possession of the land and the villages. Any people left will be trapped in their homes and either starve or have to escape to find food. The dogs will rule the land and the shores.”
“Yeah, yeah,” jeered Toby. “And I suppose this Cerberus is going to be crowned king of all the dogs!”
“You’re probably closer to the truth than you realise,” replied Jamie.
“Here, you keep watch.” Toby swung the telescope over to Jamie. “Dad doesn’t trust me anyway.” He turned
and stomped down the stairs. He would go and see if Sylvie was OK.
Sylvie was sitting in the kitchen with a big pot of crayons, drawing a clown and colouring it in.
“Do you like my clown?” she asked. “Have you ever been to the circus?”
“It’s a lovely clown,” said Toby, ruffling the top of her head with his bandaged hand. It wasn’t nearly so sore as it had been. “No, I’ve never been to a circus. Mum didn’t like them. But I saw clowns on the streets of Edinburgh during the festival one summer. They were on stilts. It was great!”
“Can you draw one for me?” Sylvie offered him an orange crayon. Toby sat beside her and, taking the back of an old cereal packet, started to draw an orange clown on stilts.
Sylvie rested her head on her hands and coughed a dry, scratchy cough.
“Are you all right?” Toby asked her. He put his
non-bandaged
hand to her head. She was hot.
“Sylve, I think it’s about your bedtime, OK?” he said, taking her hand. It felt hot and sticky too. “Come on, into bed.” He led her across to her makeshift day bed on the sofa. She didn’t complain but crawled in and snuggled down straightaway. “I’ll get you a drink of water.” Toby went and fetched her a mug of cold water, but when he
returned, she was fast asleep.
Toby decided to go outside and help his dad. The chickens could be skittish at times. His dad was closing the shed door as Toby walked down into the compound.
“All the ladies are safely shut up for night,” said his dad, pushing the bolt shut. “I’m going to go and check the lock on that gate.”
“I’ll come with you. Jamie’s keeping watch and Sylvie’s asleep. She’s running a high temperature again.”
His dad nodded. “We’ll need to keep an eye on that. We’ve run out of Calpol, and I don’t dare give her any adult paracetamol, not that we’ve got much of that either.”
“One tablet,” said Toby. “Last time I looked in the first-aid tin there was just one tablet left.” His dad shrugged his shoulders resignedly.
“I know, we really need to find some more medicines,” he said.
The two of them swung open the heavy wooden gates of the compound. To the left was a path that led down to the jetty where the
Lucky Lady
was moored. To the right was a stony track which led along the rocky promontory up to the village. About twenty yards along this, the track narrowed and the ground fell steeply away either side of it. This was where Toby’s dad had put up tall chain-link fencing that went down each side of the track and into
the sea. Two massive gates stood on the track, fastened with a huge iron chain and padlock. Toby’s dad went and shook them vigorously.
“They’ll hold!” he cried to Toby, who was inspecting the supporting struts of the fencing. “You’d need to ram them with a tractor to get these gates down.”
“These still seem solid,” Toby cried back, trying to shake the posts in the ground.
He lifted his head. His eye had caught some movement in the village on the hillside above them. He frowned and squinted into the evening light. Had he imagined it? Something in the half-light darted across the play park. A baby swing swayed back and forth, creaking spookily. Toby stared into the dusk. Was it a rabbit or a hare? There were certainly hundreds of them around the area, with its surrounding fields of grass and weeds to eat. No, it had been bigger than a rabbit.
Something shot across the tarmac car park near the beach. There was more than one. Surely Jamie would have warned them if the dogs had come closer?
“Toby, come here, slowly,” his dad quietly commanded.
Toby climbed back up the bank on to the track and stood beside his dad. There, coming down the track five abreast, were the dogs. They trotted calmly out of the gloom of the dusk towards them.
“Don’t move!” hissed his dad.
“We’re safe here, aren’t we?” Toby hissed back.
“We should be. Can’t see them getting over these gates, and they certainly can’t get through them,” said his dad.
Why am I so scared then?
thought Toby.
They look like they mean business. I don’t think they want us to throw them a ball!
The dogs were getting closer. They sniffed the air and then stopped a few feet from the gates. They were tall, handsome dogs with shiny coats.
“Don’t look them in the eye,” said Toby’s dad. “I read somewhere that that just annoys dogs.”
“No,” said a voice behind them. Jamie had been walking quietly towards them. “
Do
look them in the eye. Stare hard back at them. Draw yourself up to your full height and look as domineering as you can,” he instructed.
“What?” gasped Toby. “I thought …”
“These are foot soldiers,” interrupted Jamie. “They’re not the dominant ones in the pack. They’re used to being given orders. So order them to go away.”
“What d’you mean?” gasped Toby’s dad.
“Look,” said Toby, “they’re wagging their tails! Maybe they’re friendly dogs.”
“That’s a sign that they’re excited,” said Jamie. “See how their tails are arched high over their backs and are wagging slowly. If they were being friendly their tails
would be lower and wagging faster.”
“Excited? Is that good?” hissed Toby.
“No, now on the count of three we’re going to shout as loudly as we can, ‘Get lost!’” ordered Jamie, moving closer to the gates. Toby and his dad followed.
“Get lost? That’s it?”
“Yes, now … one — two — three!”
“GET LOST!” they all shouted together as loudly as they could.
The dogs threw back their heads and, rearing up, turned on their haunches and ran away.
“Keep shouting!” said Jamie.
“GET LOST! GET LOST! GET LOST! GET LOST!” they screamed at the retreating backs of the dogs.
“Couldn’t we just have thrown something at them to make them go away?” asked Toby’s dad, as they made their way back to the compound.