Through Fire

Through Fire - Chapter 07

"No," said Caerlion, leaning over the back of the pilot's chair, coffee in one hand, notepad in the other. "Skip Ironstead, stop at Salter's Reach."

"Salter's Reach is abandoned," said Flint over his shoulder. "No one goes there now."

Diana hunkered down in her chair, fiddling with a little bit of dark red wood she'd picked up at the forest village. She'd been that way most of the day, and Flint was starting to wonder if she was okay.

"Not many, perhaps," said Caerlion.

Flint shook his head. "No, seriously, it's a burned-out ruin. There's nothing there."

Caerlion sipped coffee, and sighed. "Refuse to go?"

"Well no, you're the boss and everything, but-"

"So... No problem?"

Flint's hands tightened on the wheel. "Like I said, it burned down, it's a smoky, ashen ruin. The air is foul and there's no food, no clean water, nothing but a lot of char. Are you really sure you want to go there?"

Caerlion slipped the notepad into the pocket of his blue suit jacket. The pink tie had returned. "Find ash that disturbing, sir? Or something else nettling the skin?"

"Salter's Reach was never popular... It's just a bend in the river away from Cold Lake."

Caerlion laughed. "Splendid. Swimming in order."

Flint stood and turned to continue the argument, but Caerlion was already slipping out through the cabin door. His head began to throb, and he slumped back into his seat. "Fine," he said. "We'll go to the Reach. Never mind about the ash, never mind the stink. Never mind the monster in the lake."

"Commendable attitude," said Caerlion.

Flint slammed the cabin door shut.

"Internal doors aren't armoured, remember," said Diana, still focused on her wooden toy.

He leaned over her chair. "Telling me about my own rig now? What's your point?"

She glanced up at him, a flash of red, then turned back to her toy. "Don't break the rig, Flint. We still need it."

"We need a lot of things." He slumped into his seat and checked the gauges. They'd already burned through five percent of the water they'd taken on at the river, which was fine, but they had eaten all the bacon and most of the eggs and vegetables, and they were running low on coffee. He'd been hoping to resupply at Ironstead, look in on Pask and Tarrah, and maybe hear some news about the race, anything to forget about Caerlion and the guns. Now, it seemed, he wouldn't get even that little distraction, and they'd all have to survive without meat for a few days. He looked at the empty mug sitting on the dash. He could probably live without meat for a bit, but the coffee... He always hit the caffeine hard on a long run, and it seemed that this was one thing that he and Caerlion shared.

"You shouldn't drink so much of that," said Diana.

He started to reply, then turned to her, a quizzical look in his eyes. "You couldn't know..."

"Flint, you've had four mugs of coffee today, one for breakfast, and one for every time you've seen Caerlion. You can't keep your hands off the coffee pot, and I don't care how old you are in adult years, there's no way that's healthy."

He frowned at her. "How about you? You've spent all day hiding in here. I mean, it's probably good that he's stopped pretending to teach you things, but should you really curl up and play with a toy all the time?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm a child, Flint. It's what I'm supposed to do."

"Well that makes sense, but I still don't like it."