Doubt

Category:The Weekly
"Do you trust me?"
Hot. Humid. Close. The subtropical air stuck to them; even inside Lyzander's helmet, the burnt-out shop stank of ozone, gunpowder, plasma-char. Fear, too.
"Like hell help's on the way! Avi's dead, Hari - they both are - the Navy's about to bomb this whole place into glass either way-" The words spewed from his mouth, an adrenaline-fuelled flurry of panicked accusation, of doubt.
"Ly." 
He stopped, abrupt, as if tripped.
"Do you trust me?"
Silence. A stammered response.
"Hari, we can't, we're - I'm-"
"Kalis Team, this is Hermes Three - ODST detachment, UNSC Touch of Frost - approaching from your west. How copy?"
Deliverance.