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+<h1 id="the-rust">The Rust</h1>
+<div class="description">
+
+<p>
+<a href="https://nat1publishing.com/wcwc/">Nat1's Winter Court</a> is a prompt-driven writing challenge! The goal is to write a short story with specific parameters once a week throughout January. This is my second submission. Get your copy of <em>Winter Court: Year One, 2026</em> <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B0GRGCJXL8?ie=UTF8&dib_tag=se&dib=eyJ2IjoiMSJ9.P6OQNY7CnMVR1NvzlNriw55uoLAqWRgKV7YvnNSTlblycrsGvTmM1qr-W4MubFtYqZrLQlTiNcPsR3lrwwYhgQKvldz63JOVkJ3POEFphu3Kz8-FqWYsru2H2Q09Zt_980GMbqJ8caQYwac5YZw54nxAGdHSoxK6feTaJfu2WXfa6dM_Wen2eAwcXlbCY66hEGs8YChjKd9ARRXos6xPTgVM5piP1XNkQ2sn0gNJXm0.pK7Qt86-fJhop6akBeOXQ27ioBaO9IRTLun4nzj22BE&qid=1772932438&sr=8-1">here.</a>
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<em>Prompt</em>
+<br>
+
+As it turns out, the monster beneath the bridge is not the threat—what it’s protecting is.
+</p>
+
+<p>
+<em>Required components</em>
+
+<ul>
+<li>A child's toy</li>
+<li>The word "finally" in the last paragraph</li>
+<li>Snow</li>
+</ul>
+</p>
+
+</div>
+<p>Jethro surveyed the dead whiteness: an empty, desolate plain devoid
+of life and shelter. He rotated his head almost mechanically, his
+hardened features scanning the land ahead. Below his eyes, his grizzled
+jawline was set in a permanent grimace, as if everything he had seen,
+saw now, and would see was grim at best.</p>
+<p>He didn’t feel the cold, at least that’s what he and his men kept
+telling themselves. What kept the boys marching on was Jethro. What kept
+Jethro going was duty. Duty kept that spark, that fiery resolve burning
+in him just enough to melt away the cold.</p>
+<p>From atop the Jeep, he could just barely make out the treeline.
+Beyond that was the wood. The wood was the mission. What lay beyond was
+just rumor. <em>Or was it a promise?</em> He grunted. It didn’t matter.
+It was the mission. Push on, as always, for the mission.</p>
+<p>Hobbs interrupted his thoughts as he marched up and saluted. “Sarge!
+Batteries are charged, and we’re ready to roll out, sir!”</p>
+<p>Jethro cocked his head down and saluted back. “Good work, Corporal.
+Wheels up, on my command.”</p>
+<p>“Sir, yes, sir!” Hobbs stiffly marched off, barking orders to the
+troops as he went. His arms and legs looked awkward and weary as he
+swung them.</p>
+<p><em>Won’t last much longer out here.</em> They had to push on.</p>
+<p>The men decoupled the charging cables from the second Jeep and
+secured the heavy solar panels to the back of the six-wheel HET. The
+cables were coiled and lashed down to the HET atop the panels. They
+could only charge one vehicle at a time, so they had to do it on a
+rotation.</p>
+<p>Hobbs and two privates piled into the command Jeep. The other Jeep
+and the HET were fully loaded, the last men jumping aboard just as
+Sergeant Jethro gave the order to move out. The three electric motors
+whined in unison as snow flicked off the treads of the oversized tires.
+Jethro clutched the roll bar, still standing, as the platoon bumped
+along the plane.</p>
+<p>The conditions worsened, the sky graying and darkening as large
+frozen chunks of slush fell from it. The headlights were obscured enough
+to be nearly useless, and the men took turns wiping the windshield off
+with their sleeves. Still, they pushed on.</p>
+<hr>
+<p>Just before dawn, the platoon met the edge of the wood, the plain
+giving way to monstrous pine trunks. Each one towered over the Jeep by
+an immeasurable distance, disappearing into the gray-black heavens. Ice
+and snow clung to them, sticking to the evergreen needles until they
+sagged enough for some of it to drip off. The storm raged even more
+violently now, each man’s green uniform plastered with white.</p>
+<p>Jethro scanned the trees and the darkness ahead. <em>Not a sign of
+life, but the trunks offer some protection on the leeward side.</em> The
+HET would be mostly covered, but more importantly, his men needed
+rest.</p>
+<p>“Corporal,” he hollered over the whine of the motor. “Status
+report!”</p>
+<p>Hobbs called back, “Sir, battery levels at 21 percent, sir!”</p>
+<p>“We’ll make camp behind that trunk up there, bring us around, and
+shut it down.”</p>
+<p>Corporal Hobbs echoed the command and signaled to the other vehicles.
+The troops dismounted and helped their Sergeant down from his chariot,
+his pelvis creaking and popping as he did. He hissed as his brittle
+joints seared with pain. Try as he might to hide it, he was old and worn
+out, and just as afflicted as the next man. Moving helped some, but he
+refused to sit. Partly because he refused to show weakness in front of
+the men, and more importantly, if he was going to freeze, he was going
+to do it standing.</p>
+<p>He was infected. They all were, and each and every one of them knew
+their days were numbered. That’s what the disease did to you: froze your
+joints up. Back at base camp, two men had already succumbed, their
+bodies locked like a skeletal prison for their minds to wither away in.
+Unable to move. Unable to die. Unable to do anything but gaze ahead,
+panicking at immobility until you slipped into madness with the new hell
+you were stuck in.</p>
+<p><em>Not to me. And not to them either.</em> Their salvation lay
+ahead; they just had to reach it.</p>
+<p>The strongest men unloaded and set up the solar panels, coupling the
+heavy cables to the HET’s batteries so that at sunup it would get a head
+start at charging. The healthy ones were busy arranging the Jeeps,
+setting up tents, and creating as much shelter and protection as they
+could. A few stood guard. The weak ones huddled together in tents,
+massaging their aching limbs, which slipped, popped, or crunched when
+they moved them too far.</p>
+<p>Jethro didn’t sleep that night. He stood guard, observing the path
+ahead while he thought and calculated. He surveyed his men, too,
+ensuring they got the shifts and rest that they needed. The next leg of
+their trip would take them to the bridge. No doubt Caecelav would be
+skulking nearby, and they needed to be ready. Today was the journey, but
+tomorrow would come the battle.</p>
+<hr>
+<p>The next morning, the men got a late start. Even less sunlight
+penetrated the piney canopies far above them, providing only a trickle
+of power to the solar panels. Sarge gave the order to move out at
+exactly 60% charge, not a lick more. They would reach their goal before
+nightfall and have plenty of time to juice up tomorrow.</p>
+<p>Corporal Hobbs wheeled the command Jeep along the muddy path, black
+clumps of sopping dirt kicking up and splashing the plastic fenders
+where it mixed with the snow. Occasional stony outcroppings in the trail
+staved off their progress, but they managed to crawl over them with some
+confidence.</p>
+<p>It was after the eighth rock crawl that Jethro heard the river down
+the trail, and around a couple more trunks, the platoon sighted the
+bridge. He gave the signal to slow up and look sharp.</p>
+<p>The bridge was a rickety old arched crossing, the rotting green
+boards lightly dusted with fresh snow. There were no tracks or prints,
+but Jethro steeled his men regardless. <em>Ambush. Has to be.</em></p>
+<p>They stopped short of the bridge as he dismounted from the Jeep and
+picked up a machete. Hobbs armed himself with a shovel while his private
+wielded a pickaxe. Brass left them unarmed and under-equipped for years,
+so it was the best they had. Not nearly enough, but it would have to do.
+Jethro didn’t think about the odds. This was their last chance.</p>
+<p>Nobody made a sound, padding softly as they could along the white
+earth. Every move they made, they checked around the next tree trunk,
+using hand signals to indicate they were clear. The vehicles inched
+forward, barely humming as the snow crunched underfoot. The private
+feathered the accelerator with his foot, nudging the bumper closer to
+the bridge.</p>
+<p>It was close enough now that they could make out the rotten spots
+where entire pieces had fallen away, exposing the grainy, splintered
+holes that remained. Jethro continued to tread carefully, twisting his
+head left and right as he listened. The frigid water rushed below them,
+and chunks of ice bumped up against dead branches as they danced along
+the seething torrent.</p>
+<p>The private’s foot slipped. All four tires broke loose, kicking up
+chunks of muddy snow. <em>His ankle froze up!</em> The Jeep lurched
+forward and slammed into the base of the bridge, sending splintered
+woodchips flying as it did.</p>
+<p>“Halt, private, halt! Shut it down!” Jethro shouted as the Jeep
+bounced up and slid up the ramp.</p>
+<p>An unearthly roar rumbled up from the holes in the bridge. A large,
+purplish shadow swayed and loomed beneath. Long, violet, clawed fingers
+scraped at the border of the railing, digging into the green wood.</p>
+<p>The Jeep stalled out, and the private yelled, “I got it, it’s
+off!”</p>
+<p>Then he screamed, any bravery and sense of might shattering before
+the amorphous, wretched figure of Caecelav. The beast heaved itself up
+onto the deck, its purplish skin rippling and glistening against the
+white-brown backdrop. Its rubber-like muscles flexed to hold itself
+upright as it caught the whole platoon in its eyeless gaze.</p>
+<p>Caecelav’s toothless maw hung open for its gurgling, abyssal voice to
+utter, “<em>No. Go. Further.”</em></p>
+<p>The private continued to shriek with fear. He feebly tried to lift
+his torso out of the seat with his arms, his legs fixed in place.
+Caecelav grabbed the bumper and strained, bellowing as it did. It heaved
+and lifted the Jeep up onto two wheels with its long, tendril-like
+fingers.</p>
+<p>Jethro exploded, “Strike! Strike! Strike!” He dashed across the path
+toward the driver's side of the Jeep.</p>
+<p>Hobbs and the other private took the right. They let out a battle cry
+and furiously hacked away at the monstrous purple blubber with shovels,
+axes, wrenches—anything they had. It recoiled but only briefly, and let
+go of the Jeep long enough to swipe at them with its clawed
+tendrils.</p>
+<p>The sergeant grabbed his driver by the bandoleer, straining to yank
+him out of his seat. The man’s leg was trapped, his toes jammed under
+the dash. Caecelav regained its grip on the bumper and tipped the Jeep
+on its side. The private dangled upside down, his head hovering inches
+from the edge of the bridge. He yelped and clambered back into the Jeep,
+grasping and clutching at Jethro.</p>
+<p>“Take it down!” he shouted, pointing one finger at Hobbs while he
+fumbled with the man’s boot.</p>
+<p>By now, the HET had unloaded, and the whole platoon rushed the beast
+with their weapons. They hacked away at the rubbery purple skin of the
+monster, opening gash after gash. It didn’t bleed, although it roared in
+pain.</p>
+<p>It lifted the Jeep even further. Two more troops grabbed onto the
+running board, trying to keep it pinned to the deck of the bridge. The
+whole Jeep skidded and hit the railing. Hobbs leapt up and grabbed hold
+of the beast’s neck, digging in his axe.</p>
+<p>With a sudden buck, the monster shunted the Jeep over the railing.
+Jethro’s hands slipped, his man and the vehicle turning completely over
+as the railing snapped and shattered beneath the weight. The overturned
+Jeep slammed into the riverbed below with a splash and a sickening
+crunch of the doomed private.</p>
+<p>“Man down!” Jethro bellowed as he bolted across the bridge to reach
+the opposite bank.</p>
+<p>Two privates, along with their sergeant, slid down the bank to the
+overturned Jeep. They grabbed hold of the bumper in an effort to lift it
+out of the water.</p>
+<p>Hobbs widened the gash he had started and then renewed his digging,
+slicing deeper still. The monster slashed and swept its arms at the
+troops. Each in turn dodged and jabbed at tendrils, torso, anything that
+looked open. Finally, Caecelav slumped to the deck. It gargled and
+wailed, clutching its neck. Hobbs lost his grip and jumped off,
+scrambling to his feet. He took a step back and admired his handiwork,
+resuming his stance as he did. The wound was enough.</p>
+<p>“Guess you shouldda stayed back in the bath, punk. So much for
+freedom fighting, huh?” he jeered.</p>
+<p>The eyeless purple face twisted up at him, the crooked grin widening.
+“<em>I die free, I stay free. You survive. Not so lucky.”</em> It
+coughed and continued massaging its neck with its tendrils.</p>
+<p>Corporal Hobbs sobered. “The hell do you mean? We’re free now, we’re
+never going back! We find a cure, and we’re gone, that’s the
+mission!”</p>
+<p>Caecelav chuckled, the ragged rubbery flesh of its neck undulating as
+it did. It coughed again and croaked, “<em>Hell? Devil take you back to
+Hell</em>—”</p>
+<p>Jethro’s machete cleanly took the monster’s head off in one sweep.
+The lifeless husk made a wet slap on the bridge planks as it flopped
+over. The corporal eyed his sergeant warily over the body as the purple
+head rolled down the other end of the bridge.</p>
+<p>He was panting and trembling with exertion. After a pause, he took a
+deep breath and sheathed the machete. He straightened up as best he
+could with his joints.</p>
+<p>“Private Anderson is dead. Get down there and pay your respects.”</p>
+<p>Jethro’s men obeyed the command and marched down the bank.</p>
+<hr>
+<p>The service was rushed and messy. The Jeep sank ever lower into the
+muddy bottom of the river. The platoon extracted as much of Anderson as
+they could. Parts of him had been carried downstream already, and what
+was left was badly crushed. The men doffed their helmets long enough to
+say a few words, toss some soil into the makeshift grave, and then
+trudge back up the bank, some slipping or tripping as they did.</p>
+<p>The Jeep was out of commission. The battery and motor were both
+waterlogged. There was no chance of salvaging them quickly, and they
+were losing light, so they abandoned the wreck where it sank.</p>
+<p>Jethro loaded more men onto the HET and packed as many as he could
+into the new command Jeep. They pushed on over and beyond the bridge.
+They had to. <em>Can’t lose any more men to this mission. Not now.</em>
+If they doubled their efforts, they could be there before sunup.</p>
+<p>The headlamps cut through the black night. Snowfall had let up, and
+an eerie hush fell over the wood, aside from the motors’ humming. The
+men were silent. Not that they were chatterboxes on a good day, but now
+they were determinedly silent. They exchanged glances, and once Jethro
+caught one eyeing him from the other vehicle. He forced himself to look
+ahead; there wasn’t time to reprimand. Once they reached their target,
+there would be no need to.</p>
+<p>The shed, their target, at last loomed into view ahead. Its peeling
+beige paint and ruddy shingles gave it away. It was exactly as the
+scouts described back in camp. The sergeant only dreamed of seeing it
+himself one day, and now he hungrily laid eyes on it. The orange glow of
+a new dawn crept up behind it, projecting yellow beams over the
+roofline.</p>
+<p>The men whooped and hollered, some clapped each other’s backs, and
+others banged on the dashboard. Mission accomplished. Only Corporal
+Hobbs was quiet, although his covetous eyes and grin betrayed his
+satisfaction and deep relief at the sight of the shed.</p>
+<p>The vehicles wheeled all the way up to the doors. The shed’s bulk
+projected hundreds of feet above the platoon like some great cathedral
+promising heavenly gifts. Two privates who could still stand hooked the
+HET’s winch onto the first massive door. It yanked open without
+resistance, bearing the interior to the weary, haggard faces of the
+men.</p>
+<p>Jethro stood gallantly, fixing his eyes on the shelves above.
+<em>About damn time.</em> The dim light illuminated labels on boxes,
+cans, and sacks. He scanned them rapidly, the earthy smell of potting
+soil and chemicals tingling his nostrils. Up high in the northwest
+corner, he found it.</p>
+<p>With one hand on his belt, he outstretched the other and pointed
+right at the blue-and-yellow label, ordering, “There, bring it
+down.”</p>
+<p>A few minutes later, the can clanged down onto the dusty floor of the
+shed. It rolled over yard trimmings until it was right up against the
+sarge’s face, and the men brought it to a halt. The clear, bold,
+unmistakable letters shone out in the gloom: WD-40.</p>
+<p>“Alright, gents, take a bath.”</p>
+<p>Jethro torqued on the spray nozzle, and the gargantuan can hissed out
+a mist of oily, sweet-smelling spray. Every man got his turn in the fog,
+rubbing the fluid into his joints. Immediately, they limbered up,
+working their arms and legs until they no longer squeaked, crunched, or
+seized. The men felt younger and stronger by the second, emboldened by
+the promise of new life. The sarge and his corporal took their turn too.
+Jethro felt the years flaking off as he massaged his sockets and
+stretched out.</p>
+<hr>
+<p>When every soldier had his fill, they stepped one by one back out
+into the light. They saluted the sergeant as he stepped out, rigid only
+with pride and uniformity, to bask in their revelry. He returned their
+salutes and at last wheeled around, clicking the heels of his boots as
+he did.</p>
+<p>The much younger-looking veteran regarded his platoon with a high
+chin as he dove into his debrief.</p>
+<p>He boomed with a congratulatory voice, “Gentlemen, our hope is
+restored!”</p>
+<p>The platoon applauded, letting out whistles and shouts.</p>
+<p>“Your dedication to this mission has assured not only your own
+survival, but that of your brothers in arms!”</p>
+<p>More applause followed, and rhythmic stomping as heads turned, some
+of the men elbowing Corporal Hobbs for his lackluster celebration.</p>
+<p>“Now we rest, rejuvenate, and plan our next mission carefully. The
+return voyage will not be easy, but time is on our side again. The
+recovery of the command Jeep–”</p>
+<p>Hobbs stepped out of the line of silent privates, his face mustering
+enough courage to mask its graveness compared to the men beside him as
+he interjected, “Pardon me, sir, but I feel obliged to remind my
+sergeant that our final destination is to escape beyond the wood, per
+our mission briefing at base.”</p>
+<p>Jethro scrutinized his corporal, his painted features scratched into
+a stony scowl.</p>
+<p>“The mission,” he replied icily, “is and always has been to return to
+base.”</p>
+<p>“Then the briefing at base camp was inaccurate, sir,” Hobbs retorted
+with a slight edge to his rising voice.</p>
+<p><em>Out of line, Hobbs.</em></p>
+<p>“Hold your tongue, Corporal. I will court-martial you, make no
+mistake,” he reprimanded before turning to the line of privates.
+“Gentlemen, in case I did not make myself crystal clear, our mission has
+always been to save our platoon. Whether by the contents of this shed or
+other ones beyond in the deep unknown. But under no circumstances are we
+to venture further from the borders of our yard.”</p>
+<p>The platoon began murmuring, some men leaning over to whisper to one
+another. <em>Out of line!</em></p>
+<p>“Did I order you at ease?” Jethro roared. “I most certainly did not,
+and you maggots will stand at attention until I order you to do
+otherwise!”</p>
+<p>Hobbs stepped completely out of the rank and file. “Sir, we can’t go
+back there, not for another winter like this one. Not to be handled like
+a plaything and then discarded by that child! We should push on, find
+our way out of this yard, build a settlement<em>, something!</em> For
+the good of the platoon, we must push on.”</p>
+<p>Sarge gripped the pommel of his machete, “You get back in line! If
+that ‘child’ wants to treat us like ‘play-things,’ then he may do so for
+as long as he damn well pleases. And you will respect him as your
+General so long as he holds command, he has earned that rank!”</p>
+<p>Hobbs ignored Jethro and wheeled around to plead with the other men.
+“We don’t need to do this. You men don’t need to do this. We don’t have
+to take orders from that psychotic kid, praying to God we don’t get
+buried in sand or mud or blasted with fireworks. We were built for more
+than that. Caecelav was right when he left the tub for good! He was
+right when he said we don’t have to go back to that hell, not with this
+dev—”</p>
+<p>The words stopped short, and the new silence was punctuated by a
+thump as Hobbs’ head rolled back off the plastic stem of his neck. His
+tin joints buckled as he collapsed into a heap in the snow. Jethro’s
+machete hovered over the corpse midair, his hand shaking and his face
+uncontrollably wild.</p>
+<p>“There’ll be no mutineers here,” he sheathed the sword and clicked
+his heels together. “Atten-<em>tion!“</em></p>
+<p>The troops snapped their legs together and saluted. “I want wheels up
+in five. Dismissed.”</p>
+<hr>
+<p>The wheels of the command Jeep carved out a path through the snow,
+the piney edge of the wood shrinking behind. The sun was shining bright
+high above, the good weather aiding their progress. The hum of the
+electric motors was the only noise in earshot. Beside the Jeep, the HET
+lumbered along, towing the crumpled remains of the waterlogged Jeep.
+<em>Brass’ll want it back. We’ll fix what we can at base camp.</em></p>
+<p>It didn’t matter; duty pushed the sergeant on. The Jeep and the HET
+were just accessories. Jethro was the real deal, limited edition. Now
+that they functioned again, it was only a matter of time. The boy would
+finally play with him again. He just needed to loosen up a bit. Now he
+was as good as new, just like the other new toys. He and his troops
+would be fun to play with again. The privates would understand once they
+got back to base. After all, that was the mission.</p>