Warning Order (A Spider Shepherd short story) Read Free

spray from the crests. As he was lifted by the swell, he caught a brief glimpse of three other heads bobbing above the surface near him.  About a hundred yards away he could see the glistening outline of the black rubber raft uncurling as it began to inflate. He slipped down into the trough before the next wave and he lost sight of his colleagues. He began finning towards the raft, pausing a couple of times to check his direction, as the stiff, gusting wind and the powerful current of the ebb tide combined to hamper him. Even in the short time in the water, he could feel the effects of the cold, which seemed to double the effort needed to swim to the boat.
    In the far distance, to the east, he could see the outlines of the peaks of the Lofoten Islands, as sharp and jagged as shark’s teeth against the lowering grey clouds. He reached the raft just ahead of the others and clung to the side of it for a moment as the waves pummeled him. He could hear the hiss of gas from the boat’s cylinders as they continued their slow inflation of the raft. One by one they pulled themselves out of the frigid water and swung into the raft. Even the freezing wind felt better than the numbing cold of the ocean.
    His relief proved short-lived because the hissing sound from the cylinders faltered and stopped. He looked at the others and saw his concern mirrored on their faces. The boat was not even half-inflated. Burdened by their weight, it was  filling with water. As the others scrambled for anything they could use to bale out the seawater as the boat bucked and rocked in the swell, Shepherd grabbed the mini-flares from the boat and jammed them into his belt, then began trying to restart the cylinders. As he looked up, he froze, seeing a monster wave rising above them. His shouted warning was snatched away by the wind, and the wave smashed down with crushing force, capsizing the boat and hurling them all back into the ocean.
    As Shepherd broke surface, he saw the raft had turned turtle and was now upside down. He swam back to it and hung on to the slippery hull as the others joined him, battling to maintain their grip as each wave threatened to tear them loose. They had only the most minimal kit on them. Everything else - comms, weapons, rations, survival gear, rations - had been in the boat and was now on its way to the bottom of the ocean.
    Shepherd was all too well aware of the seriousness of their situation. Even wearing dry suits to combat the extreme cold of the Arctic water, they would not be able to survive for long before hypothermia began to kick in. He pulled the metal firing tube from the flare pack. His frozen fingers fumbled with the trigger for a moment, then it fired and the mini-flare arced up high above them and burst into vivid red star. 
    At intervals of ten minutes, he fired off three more flares. The Norwegian coastguard was on watch for them and the support chopper was patrolling just off the Lofotens, so help should have been with them within half an hour at worst. But as the minutes ticked by and still no help appeared, all of them began to succumb to the near-zero water temperature.  
    Shepherd was shivering uncontrollably and felt as weak as a newborn. It took all his strength just to cling to the hull of the raft. When he fumbled for a fresh flare, his movements were clumsy and uncoordinated. He recognised the symptoms of the onset of hypothermia and knew that his blood was retreating from the extremities towards the core of his body. It was the body’s way of trying to survive extreme cold, but if it continued unchecked would lead to unconsciousness and death.
    After what felt like hours, above the howl of the wind and the sound of the waves battering the upturned boat, he heard a faint sound. It grew rapidly louder, swelling into the clatter of rotors and he saw a black speck approaching from the coast. He felt relief surge through him. Every movement slow and laboured, he managed to fire another flare and