Chapter 6 – Memories of Iron
The morning after their daring rescue, Salty awoke to the faint smell of coffee drifting through the broken windows of the warehouse hideout. The sun had only just begun to rise, casting pale orange light across the docklands. Dust motes floated in the beams like tiny ghosts.
Sarah sat cross-legged on an upturned crate, sipping from a chipped enamel mug. She had found an old stovetop percolator among the abandoned staff kitchen supplies and brewed the last of her precious coffee stash. The rich, dark scent curled through the warehouse, wrapping around Salty like a warm blanket.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting it take him back.
🎸 Ten Years Ago – Malahide Castle, 2025
He stood in the roaring crowd, the summer sun setting behind the turrets of Malahide Castle. The air smelled of hot grass, spilled beer, and cigarette smoke. On stage, Iron Maiden blasted out “Run to the Hills” to forty thousand fists punching the sky. The bass vibrated his chest as Bruce Dickinson’s soaring voice carried over the grounds.
Sarah was there too. She wore ripped black jeans and a tight Iron Maiden tank top that clung to her curves. Her blonde hair was pulled into a high ponytail that swung wildly as she headbanged, laughing with pure, unfiltered joy. Her lips were stained dark red and her blue eyes sparkled under the stage lights.
They drank warm cans of cider, sang every chorus together, and kissed long and hard under the fireworks at the end of the show. He remembered the heat of her body pressed against him, her arms locked around his neck as they swayed to the final encore. For one perfect night, it felt like life would always be like this – music, freedom, youth.
☕ Back to 2035
A deep ache spread through Salty’s chest as the memory faded. He sat up, rubbing his tired eyes and scratched beard.
“Want some coffee?” Sarah asked softly, holding out the mug. Her smile was tinged with sadness, as if she too felt the echo of that night a decade ago.
“Yeah,” he grunted, taking it from her. The bitter warmth filled his mouth, cutting through the stale taste of adrenaline and fear. He swallowed, staring at her through the steam.
“Remember Malahide?” he asked.
She chuckled softly. “Iron Maiden? How could I forget? You almost got in a fight with that guy who tried to shove me.”
“He spilled your cider on purpose,” Salty growled, his protective rage still simmering even after all these years.
Sarah smiled, shaking her head. “You were so strong back then. We both were.”
He looked at her, seeing not the lines on her face or the exhaustion in her eyes but the same woman who danced in ripped jeans under castle lights, unbreakable and radiant.
“We still are,” he said quietly.
She reached out and took his free hand in hers. Her touch was warm and grounding. “We have to be. The Snake knows it was us who freed Hanin. Word will spread by tonight.”
Salty took a deep breath, the coffee strengthening his resolve. “Then let him come. I’m ready.”
She squeezed his hand tighter. “We’ll need allies, Salty. If we’re going to take down The Snake and The Horizon Network… we can’t do it alone.”
He nodded, mind already spinning with plans – old dock friends, angry youth gangs from Tallaght, ex-army men drinking themselves to death in empty pubs. There were still people in this city with enough fire to rise up.
Outside, the sun climbed higher over the skeletal cranes, gilding them in gold. The smell of coffee lingered in the air, mingling with the salt tang of the distant sea.
For the first time in years, Salty felt the echo of hope – a distant guitar riff rising in his chest, promising that the fight wasn’t over yet.
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