Metal Birds

Chapter 44: Less of a Bad Day

Sidi Haneish, Egypt, October 20, 1940    

The day the falcon arrived, the door was left open for people to linger, and they were not touched more than to give them water, pushed awake for them to be fed like weak sick children, before they both slumped down into sleep again.

When Arthur woke that morning, he woke with a start. He was in a cold sweat, his feathers prickling out of where they'd been pressed flat from where he'd been lying on the floor for so long.

"...bloody..." He grimaced as he sat up, before the severity of the previous day hit him like a ton of bricks and he slumped back down again. Instinctively, tears met his eyes. He also tried desperately to calm himself down. He could feel his sinuses screaming, sore, every time he moved his mouth the areas under his eyes aching uselessly. The burns, now retreating down his neck, still open. The ones on his face were fine, with the exception of one that was just under his eye. His head was still sore, and sometimes it throbbed if he moved too quickly.

"-you awake?" He heard Seamus ask softly, though sharply.

Arthur moved to glance over his shoulder, before wincing. His neck ached. He blinked rapidly, trying to get the sand out of his eyelashes without rubbing his face on his dusty shoulders.

"Yeah. I'm awake." Arthur replied, but he looked back to the wall and let his head slump against the floor. He still felt sick to his stomach. Perhaps from his head being hit so hard. That was usually an effect of it.

"Are you okay?"

Arthur wanted to laugh, but he didn't.

"No."

"...come here."

Arthur grunted as he sat up, wincing and furrowing his brow. He was aware that his hair was a matted mess, and he probably smelled terrible, and that his feathers most likely looked as if they were going to start molting any moment.

"Why?"

"Why not."

Arthur just furrowed his brow, and shifted over to where Seamus was sitting against the wall. He slid down just behind him, letting out a heavy, shaky breath.

"What time is it?"

"Dunno." Seamus replied.

They both sighed again. Seamus didn't move as Arthur let his head lean on his shoulder, merely feeling it sag under the side of his face. At this point, Arthur had run out of tears. At least, that's what he felt. Crying to him now was hiccuping alone in the corner, feeling where the tear tracks had already kept the dust from his face. It was too hot for him in there. For both of them. They were clothed now in the shirts they wore beneath their uniforms, and their uniform pants. Their boots sat by the door, untouched.

Arthur didn't mind the bat squeaking in annoyance in the box in the corner. It kept the locusts away. He didn't know what could annoy the bat, other than the heat that was trapped in the place.

"...do you remember that song we used to sing? After we talked about the famines?" Seamus finally muttered.

"The one you'd sing when you were drunk."

"That's the one."

Arthur didn't like listening to their voices. They were hoarse, dry, sad sounding.

"Yeah."

Seamus seemed to grin tiredly after a moment, before starting to hum a little.

"Oh... no, no. Don't start that now."