With The Dawn
“Wake up!”
He sounds desperate, he thinks. He is desperate, he realizes. Funny. He hadn’t thought he would care.
It takes a while for Lucas to open his eyes, and when he does, there is the dim shape of his once-brother kneeling beside him. Lucas closes his eyes again briefly, reaching upwards with stiff limbs to press the frozen heels of his palms into his eye sockets.
“Thank fuck, you unconscionable bastard,” muttered Reg, leaning back on his heels, and when Lucas re-opens his eyes, he sees Reg running a hand down his haggard face.
“I didn’t know you cared,” said Lucas, his voice little more than a rasp. “It’s touching.” Reg snorted. He rocked back on his heels and stood, striking snow from his trousers and striding off a short way. “Hardly. Now that you’re awake, you can help me scavenge supplies. The sun’s fading fast.”
A squint upwards into the endlessly blue sky affirms Reg’s statement, and it was only then that Lucas rolled his head to look around. He was slumped against what looked to be the still smoking shell of the small charter plane they had been in. Charred and still burning pieces of metal were embedded in the snow within a several hundred meter radius of the central wreckage.
“Where’s the pilot?”
Reg glanced over his shoulder at Lucas, then nodded dismissively towards a mess of crumpled metal, now dusted with snow, that might have been the cockpit. “I don’t suggest you dig him out. Not unless you want to add the
“Wake up!”
He sounds desperate, he thinks. He is desperate, he realizes. Funny. He hadn’t thought he would care.
It takes a while for Lucas to open his eyes, and when he does, there is the dim shape of his once-brother kneeling beside him. Lucas closes his eyes again briefly, reaching upwards with stiff limbs to press the frozen heels of his palms into his eye sockets.
“Thank fuck, you unconscionable bastard,” muttered Reg, leaning back on his heels, and when Lucas re-opens his eyes, he sees Reg running a hand down his haggard face.
“I didn’t know you cared,” said Lucas, his voice little more than a rasp. “It’s touching.” Reg snorted. He rocked back on his heels and stood, striking snow from his trousers and striding off a short way. “Hardly. Now that you’re awake, you can help me scavenge supplies. The sun’s fading fast.”
A squint upwards into the endlessly blue sky affirms Reg’s statement, and it was only then that Lucas rolled his head to look around. He was slumped against what looked to be the still smoking shell of the small charter plane they had been in. Charred and still burning pieces of metal were embedded in the snow within a several hundred meter radius of the central wreckage.
“Where’s the pilot?”
Reg glanced over his shoulder at Lucas, then nodded dismissively towards a mess of crumpled metal, now dusted with snow, that might have been the cockpit. “I don’t suggest you dig him out. Not unless you want to add the