A Story of Cinders: From the Ashes

Chapter 31: Patience

     A gentle knocking on the door. "Charlie!" John called. Silence. John tried again. Still silence. Louis grunted, then gently pushed John aside. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! The door bowed inward with each time Louis' fist hit the wood. There was a stirring inside. Charlie opened the door. He was wearing a bathrobe with nothing underneath. His black hair even more chaotic than normal. The air inside the room was hot and damp, with a strange smell. He was scowling at the giant. "What," he said, curtly.

"Remember those tanks?" John asked, a tone of judgment in his voice. Red turned her back on him, shaking her head. Louis peered over Charlie's shoulder, trying to see who was in the bed, catching a glimpse of bright blonde hair.

"What about 'em?" Charlie asked, yawning.

"They're mobilizing. We've gotta move out, now. We'll get the briefing on the way."

Charlie's eyes widened. Shit was hitting the fan. "Oh fuck. Alright, let me get my shit. I'll be right out." Charlie slammed the door. More shuffling. A woman's voice, soft and muffled. His muffled voice, rough and deep. A few minutes later, he cracked the door open and slipped through, gently closing it behind him. "Let's get moving," he whispered.

"So... was that-" Louis started.

"Trouble?" Charlie interrupted him, remembering how he introduced her. "Hopefully not anymore..."

"Right. Will we be seeing any more of her?"

"I can't tell with that one..." Charlie took a swig of whiskey. Silence. Apart from John telling Charlie where they were headed, the walk was silent. They were all still recovering from the last mission. And the party. Weary and exhausted, they trudged through the sleeping city. It too was recovering. This recovery would take much longer, however. The four of them silently glided out of the city and through the desert, down the road and clambering up to the rocky outcropping on a hillside overlooking a bend in the road. Still about forty-five minutes early. John tapped his earpiece. "Alright, we're at the spot. What are we doing?"

"Righty-o," Will rang in on everyone's earpieces. "Now, ya know how we got those artillery guns?"

"Are you saying we're Fisters?"

"Fisters?" Louis asked.

"Fire support team. Another name for forward observers. Charlie said tiredly.

"That's exactly what you're doing," Will said, happy they were catching on. "Now these guns are trained on a point about a klik down the road. When those tanks pass you, you're gonna send that up, and we're gonna give em hell."

"You think your guns are packing enough power to take em out?" John asked.

"Worst case scenario, we'll scare the Hell out of 'em, get 'em to turn back."

"Roger. We'll let you know when they roll past." John took a scan over the landscape, thinking of where to place his teammates. "Charlie, Louis, get behind a rock on the outcropping. Make sure one of you can see around the corner. Red, get cloaked. I'll be a little bit back with the 50 cal." They all nodded.

Red mashed a few buttons, then her form faded out. Charlie silently crept over to a large rock and took a seat, making sure he could peer around it. There was an exceptionally large rock beside it for Louis to sit behind. Charlie lit up a cigarette, knowing he had some time. The smoke would be nearly invisible for now. It was just before the autumn sunrise. Coming later and later each day. Daylight would probably just have broken by the time the tanks rolled past. Charlie wondered how many autumns had passed since the Day of Fire. He lost track a while ago. He felt the thud of Louis sitting down, then looked over and saw Louis glaring. He wasn't happy to be awake right now. Charlie flashed a toothy, fake smile, realizing the two had barely sent any time together since the whole operation started. Charlie looked straight forward and continued sucking down his cigarette. He finished, and sat in awkward silence for a little while longer, before pulling out another. He offered one to Louis, who declined. He smoked his second, embracing the silence.