Marcus led Layne back to camp from the mangrove hideout under the veil of night. After slipping past one of Amurad's mounted patrols canvasing on the way back, the two mechanics arrived at the rocky outcrop.

  Sitting at an open fire pit near the foot of the Firestorm was Simon and Ekkehard. Simon sat cross-legged on the ground, Ekkehard laid against the angled toe of the upright.

  Exhausted from the day, Marcus sat at the fire without a word. Layne plopped down across from him.

  Ekkehard startled as Marcus entered the light of the fire and Simon rolled back with a gasp. Leaning forward from the upright, Ekkehard looked around. "Where have you been?" He whispered barely louder than the crackling of the fire.

  "We got cap—" Marcus started to speak.

  Layne spoke over him. "—lost." He bobbed his eyebrows at Marcus.

  Marcus passed his best friend a subtle nod. "We got lost. Has anyone been looking for us?"

  Simon looked at Layne for a moment, with a few rapid blinks and then turned his attention to Marcus. "No. No one has seen the big guy all day, probably because a baggage train came in."

  Ekkehard motioned with his thumb toward the sleeping child-guard, perched on a rock. "We put him through his paces in the meantime too." Then he leaned back against the toe of the upright. "So, how'd you get lost."

  Marcus stood up. "I think it'd be best if we just turned in for the night. It's been a long day."

  Layne got to his feet just as fast as Marcus. "We'll explain everything tomorrow."

  Ekkehard and Simon looked at each other with wide eyes and then back to Marcus.

  "O--okay, you got it." Simon uttered.

  Ekkehard nodded hesitantly.

  After laying down, Marcus closed his eyes but was as wide-awake as he could have ever been. Everything that could go wrong danced through his mind: what if Amurad changed his mind about putting Marcus in the cockpit? What if suddenly they decided to stay an extra day? There was so much that could go wrong, and Marcus had no trouble figuring out new ways his plan could be for nothing.

  But after wearing himself down with everything that could stop him, his mind wandered to the thought of succeeding. Returning home with his father's upright. Everything finally getting back to normal. The idea that what they’d gone through would be worth it eased his anxiety. A slight smile formed on Marcus's face, and he drifted off to sleep.

  The crack of metal banging jolted Marcus awake, all too soon, as the morning sun dazzled him.

  "Wake up, wake up, get on your feet!" The child guard hollered, banging on a scrap metal sheet leaned against a rock with his stick. "Get up, stop being layabouts!"

  Marcus wasted no time and scrambled to stand, his heart suddenly raced, and he started breathing as if he'd run for miles without stop.

  The tent city was already mostly disassembled as the brigade loaded up wagons with their gear and assembled in formation. From the meadow came a familiar face, one of Amurad's guards from his entourage. The long-bearded warrior in a bloody linen vest approached Marcus.

  "Change of plans." Timur, the entourage guard belted.

  Marcus swallowed hard and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. It was over, plan ruined.

  "I'm the pilot now." The guard motioned towards his chest.

  Marcus hesitated. "O—okay, what do you need me to do?"

  "You're riding gunner still." Timur pointed with his whole hand, fingers extended. "Get it started, now." He pointed toward the Firestorm as he turned to walk away.

  If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  "What about Amurad?" Marcus couldn't hold back letting the question slip from his lips.

  The guard stopped in his tracks, squared off with Marcus and then closed rapidly, towering over him. "Get that fucking thing started and don't say another word. Stop asking stupid questions."

  Marcus raised his hands and stared at the guard's chest. The guard turned on his heels and stomped away. The mechanic let his arms flop down to his sides as he stared at the back of Timur's head with grit teeth. Marcus's arm slid up his leg, around his waist and touched the grip of the pistol wedged in his waistband at his back.

  "You good?" Layne appeared from behind Marcus.

  Marcus let his arm fall and turned to his best friend. "Yeah."

  "What's going on?" Worry tinged Layne's voice.

  Marcus looked at Timur from over his shoulder for a moment. "Change of plans."

  "It over?" Layne turned his attention to the departing guard.

  Marcus focused on Layne and shook his head. "Stay the course."

  Layne nodded and then sized up Marcus. "Try not to bend over too much." He motioned toward his own back. "I'll deal with the jump box today. Just stay focused." He then turned and walked toward Ekkehard and Simon, who were already leaving to get supplies.

  Suddenly finding himself alone amid everyone else rushing to leave, Marcus looked around at the countless warriors striving to get themselves squared away before the brigade's immanent departure and felt a strange disconnect. He walked over to where Maximilian was buried and stared at the ground, moist from the morning dew.

  "Either I'm going to make things right," Marcus uttered at the ground. He turned to look up at the Firestorm, its shadow cast over the warriors gathering in formation where the tent city once stood. "...or I'll be buried along with you."

  A sharp whistle startled Marcus and he spun. Layne stood upon the jump box, attached to the Firestorm and beckoned to Marcus. "Let's go, it's time." Layne called out.

  Marcus took a deep breath and glanced at the grave before exhaling then turned to rejoin his companions. He stepped up to the jump box controls and started flipping switches to prime the starter.

  "What are you doing?" Ekkehard spoke, looming next to Marcus.

  Marcus blinked and readied to speak but was interrupted by Ekkehard.

  "He's already up there, you need to start climbing. Go, I got this." Ekkehard flicked his fingertips at Marcus, to shoo him away.

  Marcus traced the path of the ladder rungs on the Firestorm with his eyes, finding Layne dangling by one arm, with one foot on a strut near the fuel connectors on the underside of the torso.

  His best friend motioned for Marcus to ascend. The hatch to the cockpit was open and waiting. Marcus's mouth suddenly felt like sandpaper. He looked to Ekkehard once more, who gave him a stern nod. Then he spotted Simon leaning around the jump box, from where the fuel line was fed out, who gave him a smile.

  Marcus climbed up toward the cockpit entrance and stopped when at eye level with Layne.

  "You ready?" Layne spoke in a low tone.

  Marcus nodded.

  "Me too. See you on the other side." Layne passed him a devious smirk.

  Marcus couldn't help but pass him a knowing smile and climbed into the cockpit.

  "Took you long enough." Timur hollered from the pilot seat, the higher and farther back of the two inline chairs. It was situated near the engine room hatch. "Sit down."

  Marcus hoisted himself into the cockpit and took a step to his side to put himself in the gunner's seat.

  "Fuel line primed and ready." Layne shouted into the open cockpit door.

  Marcus instinctively raised his arm to the switch to his right for the fuel injectors.

  "Don't touch a damn thing unless I say." Timur shouted.

  Marcus stopped and placed his hands folded on his lap, clasping them tight to fight his nerves. "You got it."

  "Turn on the fuel injectors already, didn't you hear him?" Timur boomed.

  "Engaging fuel injectors." Marcus turned to his right and flipped two metal switches then turned back to hold tight his hands in his lap.

  A low rumble filled the cabin as the fuel line filled the primer tank.

  "Go for start." Layne called out.

  Marcus fought off the desire to throw the starter switch, staying still.

  "So, you going to just sit there, or are you going to start it?" Timur scoffed.

  "Starting engine." Marcus spoke flatly, reaching over to the double-throw and flipping from 'off' to 'on'.

  The jump box screamed as it pumped fuel into the machine and after some chugging from the Firestorm's engine, the hull vibrated, then the upright's engine roared to life. The starter double-throw automatically tripped, snapping back to 'off' on its own.

  "Breakaway, you're free and clear." Layne shouted over the roar of the engine.

  Then the cockpit hatch was closed and sealed with a hiss. Noise from the engine dulled and it was much quieter. It was pitch black, aside from a few lights on the consoles of both the pilot and gunner. But the darkness didn't last long, as the walls phase shifted and a broad panoramic from behind Marcus's left, across his forward field of vision, to behind his right revealed the landscape. It was like he was floating in the air.

  Marcus heard the cock of a gun and worried that somehow, he'd gotten the hammer of his stuck on the seat. But the sound came from behind and above.

  "You see this?" Timur called out.

  The mechanic turned to find a pistol resting on top of the pilot's console, pointed directly at his head.

  Timur continued. "You make one wrong move, and I paint this room here with your brains."

  https://www.patreon.com/c/mekabukiko

  https://discord.gg/vS8jjazffM