August sits on the mattress, cradling his sword on his lap. The blade gleams dully in the dim light filtering through the cracked windows, a silent guardian against the unknown dangers lurking outside.
Layla watches him for a moment, her eyes lingering on the weapon before flicking back up to his face. She shifts on the mattress, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them, the sleeves of the olive jacket bunching at her elbows.
August stood up from the mattress, his sword still clutched in hand. Layla watches him, her eyes following his movements as he walks over to the old wooden crates stacked in the corner of the room. The barracks is filled with the rustling of old fabric and the creaking of the crates as he carefully inspects them, checking for any signs of damage or hidden dangers.
Augusts draws a small knife from his belt and carefully probes the crates, looking for any suspicious wires or triggers. The first few crates seem harmless, but as he moves to the third, he notices something - a faint red wire running along the side, partially hidden beneath a layer of dust. August pauses, his hand hovering over it, as he considers his next move.
Layla, who has been watching from the mattress, suddenly gasps and jumps to her feet. "What is it?"
"Bomb." August replies casually.
Layla's face drains of color as he says the word, her hand instinctively moving to cover her mouth. "A bomb?" she whispers, her words quavering with fear. She glances around the room, as if searching for an escape route. "What... what do we do?"
"Give me a sec." August sets down the sword and the knife on a nearby crate and slowly reaches for the wire.
Layla holds her breath, watching his every move with bated anticipation. His fingers close around the wire and he tugs gently, pulling it free from its hidden anchor. With great care, he winds the wire around his fist and starts to unwind it from the crate, each centimeter an excruciating step closer to disarming the deadly trap.
The bomb is a crude but effective IED, a pressure plate with a small block of C-4 attached to a simple timer. August's fingers work with precision, disconnecting the trigger mechanism and safely removing the explosive. As he finishes, the room remains eerily silent.
Layla breathes a small sigh of relief, her body visibly relaxing. "You did it," she whispers, a faint smile replacing her earlier terror. "Thank you."
"C-4 doesn't explode. It burns when hit with fire, so we can use it as fuel." August mutters, thinking.
Layla's face sets in a contemplative expression at his words, her brow furrowing slightly as she considers the implications. "You... you want to use it as fuel?" she asks, her words laced with both curiosity and a note of concern. "Is that even safe? Won't the heat from the fire make it explode?"
"Cubans and American soldiers used to use this stuff all the time back in the sixties. There was so much they had lying around, so they had to put it to good use." August says, turning the block of C-4 in his hand, his eyes inspecting its integrity.
Layla's eyes widen in surprise, but then narrow in confusion as his mention of Cubans, not knowing who they are nor their country. "You... you know a lot about this kind of thing," she remarks, a mix of admiration and unease in her voice. She looks down at the disarmed explosive in his hands, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. "Are you sure it's safe?"
August carefully wraps the disarmed C4 in an old rag. He then arranges a circle of loose stones around the explosive on the cold floor. After a moment, he steps back, the makeshift stove ready to test. The air is heavy with tension and uncertainty as he glances at Layla.
August searches through his duffel bags and finds a can of meat and some tarnished, but still usable, aluminum foil. Layla watches as he sets the can in the center of the stone circle and covers it with the foil to catch the heat. She steps closer, drawn by the potential of a warm meal. The room is tense with anticipation, the faint scent of dust and decay hanging in the air as he prepares to test the makeshift stove.
With the light of a match, the C-4 ignites with a small whoosh, casting a flickering orange glow across the room. Layla jumps back slightly, startled by the sudden heat and light, but her surprise quickly gives way to fascination. The fire burns steadily, providing a surprising amount of heat. She moves closer, drawn by the warmth, and extends her hands towards the flames.
"Wow, it actually works." Layla says, wonder in her voice as the flames flicker in her eyes.
August uses his knife to open and give her the can of meat he got from the duffel bag earlier. "Here. Put some on the aluminum foil, while I check the other crates."
Layla carefully takes the can and knife from him, feeling the cold metal against her fingers. She hesitates for just a second before nodding to herself, using the knife to scoop some of the meat onto the foil.
The contents begin to sizzle almost immediately, the aroma of cooking meat fills the air, a stark contrast to the musty, dusty smell of the barracks.
Meanwhile, August turns his attention back to the crates, methodically checking each one for any additional threats. Layla watches him work, her eyes flickering between the sizzling can of meat and his careful inspection of the crates. The aroma of the cooking food begins to fill the room, a welcome change from the stale, musty air. She licks her lips, her stomach rumbling softly in anticipation.
For the first time in what felt like forever, the scent of a warm meal filled the air. It almost made her forget where they were. Almost.