Buried Flames (9 page)

Mason ignored the rest of the conversation between the people behind him as he focused on harnessing Major in this makeshift mask. This was the easy part because the horses were used to harnesses. The difficult part would be trying to rig the heavy loads of equipment behind the saddles evenly and balancing the load. He heard the engine roar to life behind him, the other man and woman having pushed the trailer out of the way. They shoved it into an old equipment stall. Tim backed the truck out, having already opened the barn door. Mason never once took his attention off of Major.

“You could have at least said goodbye,” Brenna admonished, coming up beside him after she’d closed the entrance. She rested a gentle hand on Major’s side. “They were good people who were worried about us.”

“I gave them some supplies, the truck, and told them we’d be fine.” Mason had finally attached the first makeshift harness to Major, who was tolerating it well. Now came the hard task of fitting the plastic lenses over his eyes and lashing them securely. “Hand me the ski goggles and those two strands of thin leather.”

Brenna muttered something about being socially inept, but Mason didn’t rise to the bait. He’d heard that enough times from Berke and Mav. Owen and Van liked him well enough and they’d come to just stay away when he was working on something. She would learn to do the same…let him be to finish the task at hand.

“Are you in pain?” Brenna asked, handing over the items Mason had requested. He stiffened at her question, wondering why she would think something like that, regardless of the fact that it was the truth. “I have ibuprofen in my bag.”

Mason kept working while comforting Major with meaningless words. The wounds on the left side of his body had been from shrapnel and burns after…well, he purposefully didn’t think about that time in his life. The physical and emotional scars remained and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He was lucky that all he suffered was third-degree burns when those he’d tried his damnedest to save didn’t make it out alive.

“It’s nothing I can change now,” Mason countered, concentrating on calming Major down now that goggles were covering his eyes. He’d already fastened the rope through the holes on either side of the plastic, looping it up and over the pliable rubber and foam cushion. It didn’t seal completely against the horsehair, but that was probably for the best. It was doubtful any ash would make its way inside. “Hold this.”

Brenna was watching Mason carefully, as if she didn’t quite believe he was fine. Well, that was all she was going to get in the way of an explanation. The old wounds where the shrapnel had decorated his left side had done the most damage. He still got the occasional sharp pains where the metal had ripped the muscle tissue in his outer leg, shoulder blade, and arm. His side had been pretty well protected with the vest he’d been wearing. The flashing vivid images of his time in the hospital were making it rather hard to breathe as he reflected on his past.

“Did you finish fluffing up enough of the wool fibers like I asked you to?” Mason bit out, wanting more than anything to get away from here. He wanted to be riding to their destination, not standing here talking about something she didn’t understand. “We need to leave here as fast as we can. We can pack the replacement wool and cheese cloth in one of the saddlebags.”

Brenna didn’t respond, but instead stepped away and gave Mason his space. The tension in his shoulders eased and he was able to continue what he was doing without upsetting Major. He was the first to be outfitted with the temporary mask and eyewear, and although he wasn’t happy about it, he tolerated it fairly well.

Sergeant was another matter altogether. It took almost thirty more minutes before the stubborn horse accepted that Mason wasn’t going to back down on this. The two had a standoff for a while, but eventually Sergeant took to the improvised gear and settled. He stepped away to find Brenna had already done the same with Sam, although the canine actually wore a pair of swimming goggles that Mason had found at the gas station they’d stopped at earlier. He had no idea where they’d find replacements if these improvised masks failed, but they’d packed enough bits and pieces to replace the leather straps if they broke.

“I can’t get this mask to stay on Sam very well,” Brenna said with frustration. It was the first she’d spoken to him after he’d snapped at her, but she didn’t appear to be holding any grudges. His respect for her continued to rise and he walked over to where he’d placed his satchel, flipping open the pouch and pulling out a bandana. “Cut holes in the leather on either side and then slide this through, tying it around his neck instead of trying to tie the ends of the bag together.”

Mason had the horses loaded down with saddlebags and then their supplies evenly distributed on either side and across their backs. The horses had been given water and now it was time to take care of Brenna. He handed her a protein bar, not wanting to open any of the MREs unless absolutely necessary. He didn’t know what they might encounter and he wasn’t going to dig into their rations this early into the journey.

“We’ll share this,” Mason said, already having eaten his own bar and taken his fair share of the water. He handed the plastic bottle over to Brenna, who was currently watching Sam paw at the do-it-yourself harness over his head. “He’ll be fine.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel sorry for him.” Brenna placed the water container against her soft lips and drank from the bottle he’d given her. Mason had to look away when memories of the kiss they’d shared earlier tried to flood back into his mind’s eye. She eventually put the empty bottle into the back of the trailer with the other used items they were leaving behind and finally faced him. There was anger written across her features as she shrugged into the jacket she’d brought with her. Mason sighed and steeled himself for what was coming. “Let’s go. We’re wasting time, right?”

Mason was a little shocked when Brenna walked over to where Major was waiting and she swung herself up into the saddle like the well-seasoned cowgirl she was. She’d already had her gasmask handy and was positioning it over her face. Tank had sent him two M-15 Israeli-style gasmasks that covered a person’s face, yet had large eye lenses giving them protection with maximum visibility of their surroundings.

“Well, hand me your reins while you open the door,” Brenna instructed with impatience, her voice muffled by the voice emitter but Mason was able to make out what she’d said. Mason realized he might have pushed her a little too far, considering she wasn’t even going to address the fact that he hadn’t been too friendly. He told himself that was just fine, because that’s how he wanted this. And yet a part of him wanted to take a hold of her outstretched hand and give her a squeeze of reassurance that they would make it out of this alive. “Mason?”

Mason nodded slowly, reaching for his own gasmask and drawing it over his face. It was cumbersome, limiting his peripheral vision slightly. He used the time it took to lift Sam onto Sergeant’s back, which wasn’t an easy feat. The dog was smart enough to know he needed to balance and managed to do so after the third attempt. No doubt the canine would switch positions and lean against Mason’s chest once they got started.

“You ready?” Mason asked, needing to know if Brenna was prepared for what they were about to face. Her Winchester was tucked in a western style rifle scabbard, making it easier for her to reach if she needed to. She appeared physically ready, but her blue eyes contained a bit of fear. Honestly, he’d be worried if she wasn’t frightened. “Do you need anything before we leave?”

Brenna slowly shook her head and put on a brave front even though Mason could easily see her breathing was somewhat shallow. It had nothing to do with the mask either.

“I’m ready.”

Mason accepted her answer and placed his reins in her hand, unable to prevent the adrenaline rushing through his system at what awaited them. He’d been in enough combat situations to know just what desperate people could do, just as he recognized there would always be innocents for the morally challenged crowd to victimize. It was his job to distinguish between the two and he hoped like hell he made the right decisions during the remainder of this trip. He could feel his own rifle resting across his back, knowing there would be need for it farther down the road.

Mason led the horses past the trailer lurking in its stall and out toward the exit, not bothering to hide his wince when the muscles in his left shoulder blade protested. Brenna couldn’t see his expression since he was facing away from her. The brown leather of his jacket allowed the sling of his rifle to slide easily. The thick material was his only layer over the long sleeved T-shirt he was wearing, and he zipped up the front before reaching for the door with one hand while bringing the rifle up with the other.

It was a good thing Brenna had a hold of the reins. She was able to keep the horses calm after Mason had pushed against the heavy broken door, revealing what awaited them. He wasn’t usually shocked by anything, but this visual was surreal. It was as if they were in a glass container and someone was filling it with grey ash. Visibility had to be less than fifty feet and there was nowhere they could go to escape these harsh elements but forward…and hope like hell they didn’t encounter anything worse than this along their six hundred mile journey.

B
renna was mentally
aware she could breathe, but being surrounded by so much falling ash made it hard to physically inhale. Major and Sergeant appeared to be managing quite well under the circumstances and Sam was currently huddled against Mason’s chest. The vulnerability of not knowing what was in front of her made her wish she was in that current position. The unnatural silence didn’t help. It reminded her of being caught in a blizzard except for the overwhelming smell of sulfur. The volcano’s residue was the consistency of cigar ash, though it had a darker color and stained everything it touched a dark grey.

“Are you doing okay?” Mason asked, his voice muffled inside his gasmask.

“Yes, I think so.” What else could Brenna say? It wasn’t as if she could change the situation and she’d had to hold back the tears a few times as she reminded herself of that. “I didn’t expect it to be this way. It’s so quiet. How do you know which direction we’re going?”

“We were north of Billings by about fifty or so miles, so right now we’re headed north northwest. Visibility should become clearer. Think of it like a snowstorm…we’ll be able to see better the more distance we put in between us and the source.” Mason maneuvered around an empty vehicle. At least, Brenna thought it was empty. She kept waiting for hands or a face to appear without notice at the window. It was rather unsettling. “I don’t want to take the chance of falling off of some cliff if we continue straight west.”

Brenna’s stomach rolled at the image Mason had just painted and she wasn’t sure if he was joking or not. She squinted in her mask, trying to see what was ahead of them and it was nothing but a vast void of darkness ending out about fifteen yards. Mason had somehow fastened a flashlight to his saddle and had it pointed ahead of them. It didn’t help much and the sound of her breathing was starting to sound like nails on a chalkboard. She would have given anything for some kind of noise to distract her.

“Talk to me.” Brenna pulled Major’s reins to the right, not liking the distance that was between him and Sergeant. She wanted to be as close as possible to Mason in case someone jumped out at them, which sounded ridiculous. She didn’t care. “Tell me something about these friends of yours.”

Mason seemed to understand where she was coming from, so he started off telling her about how he’d met the men who had basically become his brothers. Joining the military had been the only thing he’d wanted to do back in high school. He’d talked about it so much that breaking off their relationship in order for them to go their own separate ways had been almost natural.

“…young and had these grand ideas about serving my country. We all did, and it was by happenstance our unit came to be formed from the same group of guys from the Marine Armored Crewman Course at Fort Benning. You see, the Marine Corps sends its tank crews to an Army school to train at entry level. We gravitated toward each other, most likely because we were the only ones who stayed behind during holidays and leave.”

“You could have come home,” Brenna said softly, wondering if Mason had even heard her. It wasn’t like Anita had told her foster children they couldn’t come back. Her home had always been open to those she’d taken under her wing, but Mason hadn’t been one to form too many attachments back in the day. She clearly remembered the way he would distance himself if she ever got too close. She cleared her throat and spoke louder. “Anita would have loved it had you brought your friends with you.”

“Anita had her hands full.” Mason paused after that and Brenna was afraid he wouldn’t continue. She exhaled slowly when he continued talking about his days in the Corps. “Having only each other, it bonded us in a way you couldn’t understand. When Tank became our commander unit’s operations chief…he became our group’s father figure of sorts. He’s closest with Mav, but that’s as it should be.”