THE EPOCH CHRONICLES | ✔

twenty-six

Bradley's Marsh
Camp

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"WE'VE GOT another problem," Bradley said, almost twitching with impatience. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, and the entire twenty-nine of the remaining ERAA recruits - wounded, battered, broken and all - were standing alongside Bradley's hut-on-stilts.

Like a nocturnal animal wanting to burrow away from the sunlight, Bradley was blinking harshly at the lightening sky. Lale didn't bother to try and hide his sigh. Of course we do. Everything had gone wrong for them since the Pods had opened, and it was a miracle he wasn't more cynical than he already was.

"What?" Exhaustion sharpened his words. Lale had trekked from the landing site all the way through the marsh a little worse for wear; he was shocked that Amelia could make it on her bloodied excuse for a foot, but Dr. Royson had paid extra special care to the curly-haired girl.

At that moment, all of those injured beyond some bruising were within the leaf-barricade and sitting under Bradley's abode until another, more reliable way of getting them into the hut presented itself. Lukewarm water was passed around, the earthy tang the most delicious thing Lale had ever drunk in his life.

Only having a broken rib meant that he had to stand alongside the other 'lucky' ones and, though Bradley had reassured them that the watery marsh indeed did wash away any scents, anxiously wait to see if the dinosaurs had followed them.

"Not everyone's going to fit in the building," Bradley stated, as if it wasn't more obvious. Lale glanced around, only then connecting that twenty-nine people, plus a small house, plus injuries, equaled too little space. It was the biggest 'duh' moment of his life, and it didn't look like it had any immediate remedies.

"And we can't leave them out in the open, either ..." Lale realized, and it felt like his one broken rib was driving its way into his heart with the pressure that was packed on him in Bradley's gaze. Lale snapped, disliking his friend's look, before he could really think about it. "So why is it my problem, again?"

Does Bradley think I'm the leader or something? The thought made him scoff internally. He knew he wasn't leader material - he didn't have the words to rally people. He was one of the people. Lale followed orders, which was what had gotten him so far through the marine's ranks. The unexpected train of thought took him to Fereldson, but Bradley answered before he could see her dead body in his mind's eye.

"I trust you more than I trust these other jokesters," Bradley had screwed up his eyes. "Though now I'm regretting it."

Lale relented, privately hating how much Bradley was toying with his emotions, but kept his face neutral as he carefully crossed his arms over his chest. "Sorry." He eyed Bradley's leaf-covered hut. "I mean, they can sleep on the inside of this." He brushed his hand through the foliage, spotting Amelia with Tina in the darker area.

"I'm fine with that," Bradley replied, but he didn't sound convinced. Lale's mind whirred with more options.

"Um ... we could make lean-tos against the ferns," Lale gestured vaguely to a nearby plant, its spiky leaves cresting it like a crown. "We'll just have to put something on the ground to sleep on." Even as he spoke, the marine spied the other recruits struggling in the muck of the marsh; probably too exhausted to lift their feet clear of the mud, they merely shuffled through it like zombies.

He felt sorry for the others. At least he and Amelia had had time to grow accustomed to their surroundings, but Luca, Tina, and Royson had just been flung into the middle of the action - and then someone was killed. Even though it hadn't been his fault, Lale felt that same tightness in his jaw and the way he worked his molars together as when he had lost someone when out on the front.

Bradley nodded briskly. Lale allowed himself to relax a little - Bradley was the expert in Jurassic survival. If he approved of an idea, it would damn well work, he reckoned.

While his lanky blonde-haired friend rounded up the able-bodied to boss them about, Royson pushed past the leaves and approached him, and his hope to brood in silence was overrun by the determined glint in her gaze.

"I know what you're gonna say," he started, "but I can't summon penicillin out of my palms." What, so now I'm the problem solver for every situation?

The doctor paused, regarding him with pursed lips. "Please. Penicillin was for the 1900s. What I really need is up-to-date medical supplies." She pointed back to the way they had come, and Lale frowned. Not just because he was obviously lacking in medical knowledge, but because the doctor, no less, wanted to jump back into the fray.

"The container," Royson reminded him. "It's got the medicine that I need." And, maybe making sure she was convincing him enough, "and the weapons."

Lale felt a sudden flash of frustration - mostly based towards the ERAA operatives. "It wasn't there when we arrived," he reminded her, though he guessed it weighed heavily on both their minds. Thinking about worst case scenarios only continued to tighten his throat. Bradley's own TimePod had malfunctioned; what if the container holding everything they needed to survive didn't arrive at all?

There was only one object that could know. "EEG!" Lale called. Almost immediately, the robot appeared at his side, hovering above the mud.

"I am here. Do you require assistance?"

Royson studied the EEG with interest, and she asked before Lale could. "When will the container arrive? Was it sent later than us?"

The white bot seemed to pause for a moment. Lale and Royson waited. "Cargo A-three-four was sent approximately thirty-two hours after the recruits began their own timensional travel. If the presumed trajectory was taken, the cargo will arrive at five AM tomorrow."

He was relieved, somewhat, that at least it wouldn't arrive a whole week later. "Okay. We can work on that, right?"

"We can send someone to open the container up." Royson side-glanced at him, seeming to linger on the spot where he had subconsciously pressed his hand to his chest. "And it won't be you," she added. Lale opened his mouth to argue, even though he knew he desperately needed the respite.

"If I can't go, then who'll be the one to do it?" It was clear that marines like Xeon couldn't be tasked with heavy-duty issues; and he simply didn't know or trust many the other people that surrounded them. Strange, he realized, because he'd be spending the rest of his life with them.

Dr. Royson hesitated a little, and the EEG stayed silent. The leaves rustled again, and a somewhat flustered looking Luca appeared, his glasses steamed up with humidity.

"Uh ... hi, guys." Lale and Royson turned to him, and the lanky guy - who could probably run, and run fast, if motivated, the marine reasoned - visibly blanched, perhaps thinking he'd been interrupting something. "Er ... any idea where we can go to the bathroom?"

Lale narrowed his eyes, the cogs in his brain slowly turning and churning out an idea. A risky one, no doubt, but an idea nonetheless. Almost robotically, he turned and locked eyes with Dr. Royson. The same revelation was reflected in her own dark grey gaze.

In his peripheral vision, Luca glanced between he and Royson, looking more and more confused - and maybe a little scared.

Lale turned to the guy, feeling a little sorry for him for what he was about to say. "Luca, could you do something for us?"

"Just a little thing," Royson added hastily, as the technician looked like he was about to bolt.

"Luca Harris, your heart rate has rapidly elevated," the EEG piped up.

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