"The sailors are inside the—area—whatever it is, or they would be gone like everything else except the LCVP's. Somewhere behind the LCVP's, then, should be—"
But I couldn't say it. Everybody could see that behind the LCVP's was the unknown desert leading away south to the brooding ancient mountains.
Sergeant Eckstrom strode quickly to the rear of the LCVP's. That took guts, for he might have disappeared; but he didn't. He walked out onto the hot desert for twenty yards, turned and came back. That ended that. We were seeing what actually was there.
"We'll send out scouts," I said, "to the four cardinal points of the compass. We'll split each quadrant with another scout. That's eight scouts. Make it sixteen, scout in pairs. Don't get out of sight of the landing craft. No telling what you may run into."
We officers split the horizon into thirds, set out to reconnoiter.
The sailors flatly refused to leave the LCVP's further than the almost non-existent shade they cast. It was their way of grasping at something they could understand. I didn't blame them or argue with them. The skipper of the APD was their immediate superior. Where was he, anyway?
What had snatched us into this unbelievable Limbo?
How had it been done? What was going to happen to us?
I traveled about four points north of the northeast group. I am a fast walker; even through sand I can travel faster than most men. I was slightly ahead of all the other groups when suddenly I could go no further. I could feel nothing, yet when I put out my foot to set it down in a new place, it struck an invisible something, dropped back, and my impetus carried me forward to involve my face in something much finer than cobwebs.