Iron Bonds: The Brotherhood of Echo Unit

Chapter 4: Ashes and Oaths

The refinery still burned above them. Through the cracked ceiling came a bleeding orange glow, smoke curling down into the tunnels like a living thing. The air tasted of ash and hot metal; every breath rasped in Mercer’s throat.

Captain Daniel Mercer crouched beside Eli Navarro, whose arm was wrapped in blood-soaked gauze. The kid’s eyes fluttered, unfocused. Mercer pressed two fingers to his neck—weak pulse, but steady enough.

“He needs morphine,” Mercer said, voice hoarse.

Rafe Ortiz rummaged through a med-kit that was half-empty. “Last dose went to Amir when the shrapnel hit his leg. We’re out.”

Eli gave a shaky grin that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine, sir. I can keep moving.”

Mercer looked him squarely in the face. “You’ll live—if we get you out. Don’t waste strength pretending.”

A groan echoed from deeper in the tunnel. Jace Kavanagh kicked at a loose pipe, nerves buzzing through every movement. “This place is a damn furnace. We can’t sit here, Hawk.”

Mercer rose, wiping soot from his hands. “We’re not leaving yet.”

Rafe stared at him. “What are you talking about? The roof’s ready to cave in.”

“We’re finding Turner,” Mercer said.

The name stopped them all. Sergeant Turner—the man who’d led them into the ambush.

Amir lifted his head from where he sat braced against the wall. Sweat streaked the dust on his face. “You’re serious? We barely made it out alive, and you want to chase a ghost?”

Mercer’s tone didn’t waver. “He knows who set us up. We don’t leave without answers.”

Rafe muttered a curse. “Then we’d better move before this tomb buries us.”

They split up—Amir stayed with Navarro, the others followed Mercer into the dark.

The tunnels groaned around them, the sound of stressed steel bending in the heat. Somewhere above, another fuel tank exploded; dust rained down like gray snow.

Jace swept his flashlight across scorched walls. “Remind me again why we signed up for this?”

Rafe snorted. “Because you flunked out of college, genius.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t sign up to roast alive.”

Mercer silenced them with a raised hand. A faint hum vibrated through the floor—machinery still running. He led them toward it.

They found a maintenance door jammed half-open by debris. Mercer wedged his shoulder against it and shoved. The hinges screamed before giving way.

On the other side stretched a catwalk overlooking the generator core, a cavernous space glowing red from molten light. Giant pistons moved sluggishly below, and every surface shimmered with heat.

At the far end stood Turner.

He looked smaller than Mercer remembered, backlit by the orange haze. Half his face was burned, one eye swollen shut, but his rifle hung steady in his hands.

“Turner!” Mercer’s voice cracked through the roar of engines. “Drop it!”

Turner turned slowly. “You just don’t quit, do you, Captain?”

“You sold out your own unit,” Mercer said. “Why?”

Turner laughed, a dry rasp that turned into a cough. “Because Command sold us out first. Twenty-three good men sent here to die for a pipeline no one will remember.”

Rafe’s jaw tightened. “You made a deal with the enemy.”

“I made a deal to live,” Turner said. “And you would’ve too—if you’d seen what I saw.”

“Try me,” Mercer said.

Turner’s hand brushed the control console beside him. “You think you’re fighting for a cause. You’re fighting for ghosts, Mercer. For a system that’s already ash.”

Rafe raised his rifle. “Don’t.”

Turner smiled faintly. “Too late.”

His fingers slammed the console. Sirens wailed, red lights flooding the chamber. Steam blasted from the pipes overhead.

Mercer shouted, “Rafe—!”

The shot cracked like thunder. Turner jerked backward, hit the railing, and crumpled against the console. Sparks leapt into the air, and the whole catwalk trembled.

“Nice shot,” Jace muttered—then froze as alarms blared louder.

Mercer rushed forward, scanning the screens. “He overloaded the core. It’s going critical.”

Rafe swore. “Then we run!”

Mercer found a lever labeled coolant override jammed halfway down. He slammed it with his shoulder once, twice, until metal screamed and gave way. Steam hissed from the vents. The warning lights flickered from red to amber.

“How long?” Jace shouted over the noise.

Mercer checked the gauge. “Five minutes.”

“Five’s not enough!”

“Then stop talking and move.”

They turned to leave, but a low cough stopped them. Turner lay slumped against the railing, blood seeping through his uniform.

Mercer crouched beside him. “Who did this, Turner? Who gave the order?”

Turner’s remaining eye rolled toward him. “Project… Sentinel,” he gasped. “Not a mission… a purge.”

“What does that mean?” Mercer demanded.

But Turner’s head lolled sideways. He was gone.

The ground bucked violently. Pipes burst overhead, raining sparks.

“Move!” Mercer shouted.

They sprinted through the tunnels, lungs burning, boots slipping on debris.

Amir’s voice crackled through comms. “Cap, what’s happening? I’m picking up seismic movement!”

“Generator’s unstable. Get Navarro and move!”

“What about you—”

Mercer cut the line. “No time.”

They burst into the main corridor just as Amir and Navarro rounded the corner, both coughing in the thick smoke.

“Move!” Mercer barked.

They ran. The roar behind them grew until it was all they could hear. Then came the blast.

The tunnel erupted in light. The shockwave hurled them into the open desert. Sand ripped across their faces; heat rolled over them like a wall. For a heartbeat, everything was noise and fire.

When the sound faded, the night returned—still, scorched, unreal.

They lay sprawled in the sand. The refinery burned behind them, a tower of flame painting the sky red. For a long time, no one spoke.

Rafe rolled onto his back, staring at the stars. “Someone remind me why we do this.”

Mercer sat up slowly. “Because somebody has to. Because if we don’t, no one will.”

Jace gave a short, bitter laugh. “Hell of a reason.”

Amir checked Navarro’s pulse. “He’s alive. Barely.”

Mercer nodded. “That’s enough for tonight.”

By dawn, the fires had dimmed to smoke. The desert shimmered with heat, turning every shadow into a mirage. The five men sat in silence, faces streaked with soot.

Eli stirred, wincing as he tried to sit. “Did we… make it?”

“You did good, kid,” Mercer said quietly. “Held the line.”

Rafe exhaled. “What now, Cap? Command thinks we’re dead. Supply’s gone. We’re off the grid.”

Mercer looked east, where the sun rose over the dunes. “Now we find out what Project Sentinel is.”

“And if it’s what Turner said?” Rafe asked.

Mercer’s tone hardened. “Then we expose it. Whatever it takes.”

Before leaving, they buried Turner in the sand near a jagged ridge. No flag. No prayers. Just silence.

Mercer stood over the shallow mound, helmet tucked under his arm. “You made your choice,” he said. “Now we make ours.”

He turned back to his men, eyes steady despite the exhaustion carving lines into his face. “Echo Unit moves at 0900. No more orders from Command. From now on, we answer only to each other.”

Rafe gave a lopsided salute. “About damn time.”

Jace smirked. “So that makes you general now?”

Mercer shook his head, slinging his rifle. “No. It makes us brothers.”

The wind picked up, carrying ash across the dunes. The refinery’s last flames flickered out behind them.

Five men remained—tired, wounded, but alive.

They started walking east, silhouettes cut against the dawn. Whatever waited beyond the horizon—Command, truth, death—they would face it together.