From 9360e7c511b08b109608ec9c2a70bd18f1d02352 Mon Sep 17 00:00:00 2001 From: "Adam T. Carpenter" Date: Sun, 5 Apr 2026 08:17:50 -0400 Subject: feat: winter court --- posts/2026-01-11-the-rust.php | 362 ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 1 file changed, 362 insertions(+) create mode 100644 posts/2026-01-11-the-rust.php (limited to 'posts/2026-01-11-the-rust.php') diff --git a/posts/2026-01-11-the-rust.php b/posts/2026-01-11-the-rust.php new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5941b1b --- /dev/null +++ b/posts/2026-01-11-the-rust.php @@ -0,0 +1,362 @@ +

The Rust

+
+ +

+Nat1's Winter Court 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 Winter Court: Year One, 2026 here. +

+ +

+Prompt +
+ +As it turns out, the monster beneath the bridge is not the threat—what it’s protecting is. +

+ +

+Required components + +

+

+ +
+

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.

+

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.

+

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. Or was it a promise? He grunted. It didn’t matter. +It was the mission. Push on, as always, for the mission.

+

Hobbs interrupted his thoughts as he marched up and saluted. “Sarge! +Batteries are charged, and we’re ready to roll out, sir!”

+

Jethro cocked his head down and saluted back. “Good work, Corporal. +Wheels up, on my command.”

+

“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.

+

Won’t last much longer out here. They had to push on.

+

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.

+

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.

+

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.

+
+

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.

+

Jethro scanned the trees and the darkness ahead. Not a sign of +life, but the trunks offer some protection on the leeward side. The +HET would be mostly covered, but more importantly, his men needed +rest.

+

“Corporal,” he hollered over the whine of the motor. “Status +report!”

+

Hobbs called back, “Sir, battery levels at 21 percent, sir!”

+

“We’ll make camp behind that trunk up there, bring us around, and +shut it down.”

+

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.

+

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.

+

Not to me. And not to them either. Their salvation lay +ahead; they just had to reach it.

+

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.

+

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.

+
+

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.

+

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.

+

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.

+

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. Ambush. Has to be.

+

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.

+

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.

+

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.

+

The private’s foot slipped. All four tires broke loose, kicking up +chunks of muddy snow. His ankle froze up! The Jeep lurched +forward and slammed into the base of the bridge, sending splintered +woodchips flying as it did.

+

“Halt, private, halt! Shut it down!” Jethro shouted as the Jeep +bounced up and slid up the ramp.

+

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.

+

The Jeep stalled out, and the private yelled, “I got it, it’s +off!”

+

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.

+

Caecelav’s toothless maw hung open for its gurgling, abyssal voice to +utter, “No. Go. Further.”

+

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.

+

Jethro exploded, “Strike! Strike! Strike!” He dashed across the path +toward the driver's side of the Jeep.

+

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.

+

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.

+

“Take it down!” he shouted, pointing one finger at Hobbs while he +fumbled with the man’s boot.

+

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.

+

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.

+

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.

+

“Man down!” Jethro bellowed as he bolted across the bridge to reach +the opposite bank.

+

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.

+

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.

+

“Guess you shouldda stayed back in the bath, punk. So much for +freedom fighting, huh?” he jeered.

+

The eyeless purple face twisted up at him, the crooked grin widening. +“I die free, I stay free. You survive. Not so lucky.” It +coughed and continued massaging its neck with its tendrils.

+

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!”

+

Caecelav chuckled, the ragged rubbery flesh of its neck undulating as +it did. It coughed again and croaked, “Hell? Devil take you back to +Hell—”

+

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.

+

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.

+

“Private Anderson is dead. Get down there and pay your respects.”

+

Jethro’s men obeyed the command and marched down the bank.

+
+

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.

+

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.

+

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. Can’t lose any more men to this mission. Not now. +If they doubled their efforts, they could be there before sunup.

+

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.

+

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.

+

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.

+

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.

+

Jethro stood gallantly, fixing his eyes on the shelves above. +About damn time. 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.

+

With one hand on his belt, he outstretched the other and pointed +right at the blue-and-yellow label, ordering, “There, bring it +down.”

+

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.

+

“Alright, gents, take a bath.”

+

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.

+
+

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.

+

The much younger-looking veteran regarded his platoon with a high +chin as he dove into his debrief.

+

He boomed with a congratulatory voice, “Gentlemen, our hope is +restored!”

+

The platoon applauded, letting out whistles and shouts.

+

“Your dedication to this mission has assured not only your own +survival, but that of your brothers in arms!”

+

More applause followed, and rhythmic stomping as heads turned, some +of the men elbowing Corporal Hobbs for his lackluster celebration.

+

“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–”

+

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.”

+

Jethro scrutinized his corporal, his painted features scratched into +a stony scowl.

+

“The mission,” he replied icily, “is and always has been to return to +base.”

+

“Then the briefing at base camp was inaccurate, sir,” Hobbs retorted +with a slight edge to his rising voice.

+

Out of line, Hobbs.

+

“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.”

+

The platoon began murmuring, some men leaning over to whisper to one +another. Out of line!

+

“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!”

+

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, something! For +the good of the platoon, we must push on.”

+

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!”

+

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—”

+

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.

+

“There’ll be no mutineers here,” he sheathed the sword and clicked +his heels together. “Atten-tion!“

+

The troops snapped their legs together and saluted. “I want wheels up +in five. Dismissed.”

+
+

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. +Brass’ll want it back. We’ll fix what we can at base camp.

+

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.

-- cgit v1.2.3