Chapter 5. Promise
The ground was more liquid than solid – the pull of shifting sludge on his boots, the cold chill of damp clothing, and the strain of carrying heavy bags of supplies made the trek frustratingly slow – but Sawyer felt confident crossing the treacherous marsh. The moons’ descent illuminated streaks of metal through rust, distorting the abandoned building into a low-lighted beacon for his focus. The smell of moist dirt was more comfort than deterrent, and he inhaled deeply, noting an odd sweetness beneath the standard rot. The fog swirled as they passed, clearing for a moment to blind him with a brilliant moment of life.
Flowers floated on the puddles, shuddering in the chilled air to clean their pink and gray petals of their muddy beginnings to glitter silver in the moons’ light. Unopened buds surrounded the blooming lotuses, their pink and gray streaks reflecting in the thick water. The indentations created from their earlier altercation were deep, clear pools, crowded with new life and expectation. Sawyer stopped before disrupting the puddle at the base of the step, grabbing Wil’s arm to stop his anxious ascent; “Wil, wait.”
“What is it?”
“Look at all of them.” A bloom beside them split open, spewing its collection of rocky seeds as the petals shuddered to life. He bent and scooped up them from the puddle’s surface before they could sink, adding them to the supply already in his pocket.
“This is amazing. I thought this land was dead; incapable of growing anything.” Wil shook his head in amazement.
“Everyone did, that’s why they moved the settlement to higher ground.” Sawyer shuddered as he considered the last hours before dawn. “I don’t want to tell Mav about what we know; he doesn’t need to know.”
“You want to lie?”
“No, I won’t lie to him, but I don’t want to tell him until closer to the end. Let him have tonight; a night we all work together to fix his ship.”
“Okay,” Wil nodded once, shifting the bags he carried and stepping carefully around the puddle.
The aluminum door gave reluctantly as they stumbled into the building, their supplies clashing to the floor. Sawyer collapsed against the door – his strained arms and legs failing him – as Maverick noticed their return. The boy rushed across the room, flinging his arms around Sawyer’s neck.
“Told you I’d come back.”
Sawyer’s shaking voice alerted Maverick as he leaned back and looked at Sawyer. “What is it? What happened? Were you hurt?”
“Can’t I just be happy to see my little brother?”
“No, not usually.” Maverick’s confusion and surprise were easily overwhelmed by his relief as he returned Sawyer’s grasp with the desperation of a lost child.
Sawyer looked to Wil as his friend doubled over, hands on his knees, and shook. “Wil?” Sawyer called out to him calmly, pulling back from Maverick and releasing his hold.
“I’m okay,” Wil assured, standing up straight and taking a deep, visible breath. “Sorry, all this lovey stuff had me nauseous for a moment.”
“Shut up, Wilhelm.” Wil took a step back as Maverick approached him, unsure of the younger man’s intent.
His tension didn’t ease as tight arms wrapped around him. “Wh-What are you doing?”
“I’m glad you’re safe, too, asshole,” Maverick chuckled as he continued to hug his second big brother.
“Oh, well, okay then,” Wil pulled back, shrugging off Maverick’s hug as if it was less significant than his shimmering eyes and cleared throat proved. “I need to get that cannon up and running.”
Carl walked through the large, bunker door, shoving his glasses up his nose as he looked at each of the younger men in turn. “Fuel cells?”
“Over there.” Wil gestured to where they’d rolled when Sawyer dropped them.
“How long do you need?” Sawyer addressed the question to Wil, but both he and Carl responded in unison.
“An hour.”
“Forty-five minutes.” Wil pouted at Carl’s lower, specific estimate.
“I’ll finish loading the last crates.” Maverick offered.
Sawyer considered offering aid as Carl hefted one of the fuel cells with effort – practically dragging it to the ship – but the bag of weapons Wil abandoned by the door was priority. Sawyer recovered the bag of weapons, waiting until Maverick was out of sight before opening it to ensure the prototype was still among them. He couldn’t risk leaving it to be found, not after all that was lost in its name that night. As he stepped into the cargo area of the ship, his mind wondered to where he could safely store the bag. Remembering the layout of the cargo hold from his childhood, Sawyer pulled a grate from the wall beneath the stairs, revealing a hidden compartment. If they failed to escape the TSS attack, Sawyer was confident he knew enough about the ship’s systems to surge the engines; the prototype would be destroyed or encased in melted metal and unsalvageable for those who wished to possess it. Sawyer replaced the grate and turned back as Maverick returned.
Sawyer worked with Maverick, helping him lift and carry large crates into the cargo hold of the ship. He questioned the purpose of the physical task – the Anastasis could withstand firebombs and small arms fire, but would be defenseless against the TSS cannon – but he enjoyed working with his brother toward a common goal. When they finished, Sawyer dusted off his slacks and looked at Maverick expectantly; “Now what?”
“Let’s go see how Carl and Wil are doing; it’s been almost an hour.”
An electric thrill vibrated through him as Sawyer followed Maverick up the two-story flight of steps into the
