Rise

Chapter Twenty Eight: Home for a Rest

The encampment was eerily still as Matt walked through it, staring at the empty lots where tents once stood. So few had returned. Shaking his head, Matt wondered how many more could have been saved if the effort had been put in.

He cursed his own naivety, unable to understand what he had expected. War has no place for heroes. Only the dead kind. A rescue attempt would have left more dead for the chance that others could live. Where was the cut off? How does one decide where to draw the line. Matt could understand why Kestrel was so angry all the time. Even so, he could not forgive him. One thought of Billy drummed up all the rage that lay dormant within him like a bear waking from winter’s slumber. 

Dragging his feet along the ground, he followed the path to his tent, or at least to the spot his tent used to be. That didn’t take long, Matt thought, his shoulders dropping. Now where the hell did they put all my stuff?

Matt peered around in the vain hope that there might be someone who could help him. Shrugging, he just turned around, figuring he’d deal with it the morning. One more night without a bed wouldn’t kill him, or so he hoped. He let the path lead him to a group of soldiers sitting around a fire warming their hands, flasks in more than one man’s grasp. 

Seating himself by the flames, Matt breathed out, louder than he had intended. No one paid it much mind though, as they continued to drink and talk. A few names came to mind as he watched the men, the flames painting their skin orange and making shadows seem like pure nothingness. There was Todd Jameson, the one with the long scar that divided his face from eye to chin. He was talking to Frederik Werner, a barrel chested man who always looked like he was ready to tear you in two. This night he wore a gloomier visage as he stared at the flames, listening to Todd speak. 

Those are the only two I remember, Matt thought, shaking his head, regretting never taking the time to really get to know anyone. Maybe it’s better that way. Easier when they don’t come back.

Someone’s flask was passed into his hands and he just stared at the scuffed tin container for a time, following the infinite looping braid embossed on the flask’s sides. He sniffed the contents, the sharp aroma stabbing at his nostrils. He lifted it to his lips and tipped the flask back, letting the whiskey slide down into his belly. A soothing warmth filled his chest as the liquor went down, filling in all the spots the fire couldn’t quite reach. 

Baring his teeth as the burning on his tongue and the back of his throat faded, Matt passed the flask on, one swig enough for the moment. I have no need to drown my troubles like the others, especially when there’s so much I still have left to do. 

“Think you can just sit there and pretend like no one’s noticed?” Frederik Werner shot, jarring Matt from his thoughts, and interrupting Todd Jameson’s blathering. Matt peered up from the flames lazily, rubbing his hand down over his face in an act of exhaustion. He knew the questions would be coming, and he was long tired of talking.

“No, I suppose not,” Matt replied, sighing. 

“Everyone’s wondering how you returned from the wastes, especially after hearing about how you perished in a helicopter crash. Kestrel said there was nothing left to find,” Werner said, eyeing Matt suspiciously. 

“Well, I was thrown beneath it, but I wasn’t quite crushed. Though that’s pretty obvious,” Matt said, holding his hands out around him. 

“I watched as men not one hundred yards away disintegrated as that missile detonated, and your bird was nowhere near being out of range. Where can I get luck like yours kid?” Another man added, but Matt couldn’t find his name. There was a patch over one eye, the bandaging looking considerably fresh. He took a swig from his flash and bared his teeth before leaning forwards and resting his chin back on a palm. It was then that Matt noticed he was missing an arm. 

“The chopper’s hull must have shielded us a bit I guess, I don’t know,” the kid replied, shrugging. He could feel himself wavering as he spoke, so he closed his eyes to shut the others out, at least for a few moments. 

“What was it like? The aftermath? No one was allowed back, well, unless you went against orders --” Jameson asked before getting jabbed in the ribs by Werner. 

“I . . . I’m not quite sure how to put it. I haven’t had to explain it yet,” Matt said trailing off as he watched the flames dance, their orange glow remarkably similar to the way the sky looked when he had awoken, not yet a week past. 

“The sky was on fire, at least what could be seen through the thick smoke that covered everything else. Dead men everywhere, from both sides. Destroyed trucks were strewn about like . . . like old toys of some great being. And then there were the patrols of those big ones, the armoured troopers. I’m not sure what they were looking for, but it did seem like they were after Kestrel, and they were killing anyone else they found. 

“There was a dead man, he called out to me as I passed. Well, he wasn’t dead yet, but he died soon after, but not before he gave me this,” Matt said, holding up the star pendant that hung around his neck. “I promised to return it to his wife, and intend to. Once I find a way to Seaman’s Rest. So yeah, that’s what it looked like,” 

The night was silent, even the flames had ceased crackling once Matt had finished speaking. He wiped his eyes, not ashamed of the tears that had formed at the edges. Despite the picture he had painted with is words, the only image he could see was of Emma bleeding on the ground, or Billy as his legs exploded into a cloud of blood and flesh, his broken body being tossed aside like an old rag doll. 

It was talkative Todd who broke the silence. “That boy you carried in on your back, is he going to make it?”

“I think so, but it’s all up to him now,” Matt replied, letting his chin fall. 

“It was good you were there then,” Todd said, his best attempt at a condolence. 

Matt just shrugged. If I hadn’t been there, maybe he’d still be walking. 

A silence befell the group, as the men just watched the fire sway and crackle, the heavy conversation killing any desire for more. Werner pulled out his knife and began to sharpen it, running a whetstone up and down the blade. The rhythmic scraping was actually comforting, and Matt felt his eyelids begin to droop as he listened to the sound. Until he felt a stiff hand take hold of his shoulder. 

Matt looked up lazily, stifling a yawn as the Old Bear smirked down at him. The older man looked tired as well, his clothes covered in sand and dust. It looked to Matt like he had gone beyond the confines of the city, scouting or training, and had been caught in a dust storm. The kid silently thanked the powers that be for not unleashing one upon him during his travels.

“It figures I find you in the last place I look,” the Bear said as he took a seat next to Matt, his shoulders coming level to the top of Matt’s head. 

“Well, the first place isn’t really around anymore,” Matt replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I know,” the Bear began, shaking his head. “Kestrel wasted no time trying to repossess gear left behind.” He raised a finger as Matt opened his mouth, about to voice protest. “I grabbed all of your stuff before he could get to it, don’t worry,”

“Thank you,” Matt sighed, infinitely relieved.

“Now, I feel like you should be getting some rest . . . and a bath,” the Bear laughed, crinkling his nose. 

Matt peered around the group of men gathered by the fire and nodded, offering the group a small wave as he rose. He gave the Bear a hand, pulling him from his seat and let him lead the way back to his tent. Matt took a deep breath, anticipating the feel of a bed, poor quality it may be but better than anything he’d had for days.

As the duo walked off, Matt heard someone mutter, “And there goes the luckiest son of a bitch I’ve ever met. Should’ve rubbed his head or something . . .”

Matt chuckled softly, most of the laugh coming through his nose.

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime,” the Bear said smiling. He’d heard the quip too. 

Matt nodded, a grin growing on his face. He scratched at his chin, the stubble growing there threatening to become a beard. He yawned again and let his shoulders fall. He was ready to finally rest.