Sky’s Thread

Late night cloaked the forward operating base—stars stabbing sharp over tents and sandbags, a cold wind slicing through cleared rain. Lanterns glowed faint inside canvas, trembling low, yard still—generator coughing near the barracks, a jackal’s howl threading the dark. Bunk five’s flap hung open—lantern flickering shadows—the FOB’s hum dulled, grunts racked or on watch, tension soft post-ridge.

Jake and Travis sank onto crates outside—mud-streaked, weary—Travis’s bandaged arm propped stiff, aching, Jake beside, rifle leaned close. Breath fogged in the chill—shower’s steam a raw echo, shoulders bare then, jacketed now. Travis shifted, boots scuffing—eyes tracing stars, breath hitching—mud, Jake’s grip, wet shoulders flashing back. Chest tightened—voice rough. “Can’t shake it—you, me—since that first bunk.”

Jake’s chest clenched, hazel catching lantern glow—Travis’s words slicing a wall since the ridge, warmth flaring he couldn’t dodge. “Yeah,” he said, low—pausing—“It’s there—always been.” Faith surged—bending sharp—Travis’s raw push thawing dad’s chill, a flare he needed. He pulled the canteen—swigged, passed it—fingers brushing Travis’s—a weight settling firm.

Travis took it, swallowing hard—shower’s jolt humming low. “So what’s this—mud, blood, all of it?” His words cut—trust hot—“Faith’s yours—I’m grabbing at it, slipping some.” Blue-gray locked hazel under stars—wavering faith cracking wider, needing Jake’s steady to hold it.

Jake’s jaw ticked, eased—“We’re brothers—real, lasts past this.” Faith spilled—firm—“Chaplain’s ‘hold fast’—mine prayed me through—He’s here, Travis, gripping us.” Grin tugged—“You’re clawing it—that’s more’n words.” Steady flared—Travis’s push a lifeline looping back—“Lost dad—thought I’d break. He holds me—you’re proof.”

Travis leaned back—canteen sloshed, down—exhaling sharp—“Brothers…” Voice wrestled—“Never had it—grabbing it’s shaky.” Smirk flickered—blue-gray searching Jake—“I’m slipping, but damn—‘hold fast’ sticks now.” Trust surged—clawing for Jake’s rock, pull twisting into a line he gripped—“Faith’s alive with you—tethers this mess.”

Jake’s grin held—“Fighting’s faith—keeps me straight.” Faith glowed—Travis’s raw spark a lifeline both ways—“He’s here—keeps us ‘cause we’re locked, not lone.” Voice fell warm—“Lost dad—broke me ‘til He held. You’re fighting—He’s holding us both.” He paused—eyes lifting to stars—“Let’s pray it.” His voice dropped, simple—potent—“Lord, we’re beat—mud, blood, all this. Hold us fast—Travis’s fight, my steady—keep us Yours. Bind us tight—brothers, not broke. Amen.”

Travis’s breath hitched—smirk gone—“Amen…” Voice stretched—faith cracking, shaky but real—Jake’s prayer a rock he grabbed, their bond forging tighter under starlit chill—shoulders pressed, steady glowing.

Eddie’s shout cut faint—“Damn jackal!”—Hensley spat near—“East line’s live”—radio low. FOB slept—Timmy’s boots scuffing, a snore—blind to their crack, lantern weaving it tight. Travis whistled—off-key—Jake’s gaze held—a thread humming as stars glared cold.

(Chapter from Brothers in Dust. Contact me if you’d like to read the full story).