The Crate - part 1
Fidget and Cramp had packed up their belongings and swept out their huts before making sure that the small mountain ledge that they had called home since the terrible crash was as neat and clean for the next disaster victims as it had been for them.
"Are we ready?" asked Fidget.
"I believe so," replied Cramp.
The early morning wind was up. Cramp eyed the solid, grey expanse of sky above them.
"Gale up. Maybe worse."
"I'll need a hand with something."
Fidget ducked into his hut. A moment later Cramp heard Fidget laboring and the sound of something heavy hitting the packed earth within the hut. Fidget came backside-first out of the hut, dragging what looked like a small metal trunk into the clearing.
"What's that?" asked Cramp, rubbing one elbow like an alarm.
"Nothing," responded Fidget.
The two of them stood silently with stares stuck on the dull metal box.
"That's some hunk of nothing..."
"Yeah it is."
"And you need a hand with this?"
"Yes, would you mind?"
"We're heading over
" Skull Pass.
"And if we make it, Blind Drop."
Fidget toed the box, gave it a test kick. It didn't budge.
"Okay," said Cramp.
"Thanks," said Fidget.
The wind troubled the small space between them and then died down. It was Fidget’s turn to scan the perfect opacity above them.
“Did you ..?” He threw his chin up over the huts.
Cramp said, “Yes, she’ll be fine. They’ll all be fine. If we make it down, maybe, we can bury them properly.”
Fidget shuffled his feet, blew air out his bottom lip, said nothing with a lot of noise.
“And this,” said Cramp plainly, “you going to tell me what this is that we are about to carry over the mountain?”
Fidget pushed his palm through his hair and looked up into the sky for some sign of diversion. There was nothing aside from what was in front of them.
“No,” said Fidget. “Not just now.”
Cramp blinked at Fidget, and then the two men silently started the last check of the makeshift camp that had been the center of their survival efforts after the plane went down.