Boneyard

Under the thick blanket of storm, like giant dead things stripped of flesh, the machines are unmoved. No man has ever built a more robust vessel of destruction. This crew, this company, in fact, are the best of the best.

The sonic blast of 50 freight trains wafts up from just below, just outside, but Pearce thinks nothing of it. His mind is quite distant. He pictures his little ones and longs for his family and the company of friends. His sacrifice of separation is motivated by the desire to never have to leave their side again.

While the fierce winds mow through that rigid landscape, minds and bodies can rest easy. No more treks across the cruel world. Not for several more hours anyhow. It isn’t ideal, not someplace you’d choose to be, but deep within it contains the hope of a better life. The drive to finish the long awaited and long suffering task at hand overwhelms them all, but, despite the uproar, there is a collective relief from a day’s hard work.

The beasts below await the return of their masters to continue that work.