Brigit's Flame Entry- Week 2 December
Title: When Skies Are Grey
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: language
Word Count: 1826
Prompt: “Kill the Engine”
A/N: Written for week #2 at Brigits_flame. I had a personal challenge of villainy/moral ambiguity to contend with this month, so I hope I was able to fulfill this challenge in addition to the prompt. Um, I just have to say that I really hated this story. It was an exercise in tenacity for me to write when I didn't want to, and nothing else. It is not up to my usual standards, and I just want to say “WAHHH!” because I can't stand it. So please feel free to skip it. Blah. Blah. *cue general flailing and freaking out. please ignore*
A gust of wind broke through the late summer stillness, bringing with it a blast of heat through the Till Plains. The three men paused in their labors and braced themselves against the onslaught; as fast and as firm as these gales whipped up, they died out just as quickly. They waited, eyes watering, for the flurry of super-heated air to blow itself out. In short order, it did just that.
Howard, however, kept coughing even after the draft had passed. He was older now and showing his age. The wracking spasms were proof enough that age was taking its toll, as much as he was loathe to admit it.
Curtis was careful to keep his eyes on his work. The situation called for finesse, and he wasn't about to mess it up by jumping the gun. He applied the socket wrench to the rasp bar and tried to gain as much leverage as he possibly could, but it wouldn't budge. Sweat beaded his brow, and he kept tugging as the old man hacked and spat up some gunk from the ruined recesses of his rotting lungs.
Finally Howard waved his arms in the international “kill the engine” sign, and Archie shut off the switch. Silence reigned in the field for the first time that morning. Curtis cracked his neck, trying not to appear too eager.
“Boys. I'm gonna go have a break. Can you do without me for a time? I'll be back after I've had my lunch. It's this blasted heat, it really wears on a man.” Howard gestured at the sky.
“Pop? You alright?” Archie hopped out of the cab of the combine harvester.
“Course I'm alright! Just gonna go and have me some lunch. Maybe when I get back we'll have gotten that axial rotor unstuck. That's a toughie, there.” Howard shook his head.
“Don't you worry, Howard, Archie and I will see what we can do.” Curtis patted him on the back, aiming for reassuring.
“But if you get it loose, don't start without me, you hear? Come up to the house before you start on the corn.” Howard squinted against the glare to make sure Curtis understood.
Curtis nodded. “You betcha, Howard. And hey, save some of that ham for me, okay? Alice makes the best, and I wouldn't want to miss it because you are sneaking up to the house ahead of me, now, you hear?”
“That's a deal, young man.” Howard made his way over the rise towards the house, and Curtis relaxed. This was the chance he'd been waiting for.
“So, Archie, hand me that Allan wrench, would you? Maybe that'll do the trick.” Curtis leaned over to survey the machinery. He started whistling and began to take apart the concave grate. He had no idea about what was wrong with the combine. It only had to look convincing to Archie.
“Hey, that's Becky's favorite song,” Archie said.
“Yeah, it is. I didn't realize I was even singing it.” Curtis started to hum as he worked. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey … Your sister is always singing that song, isn't she?”
“Uh-huh.” Archie nodded.
“She told me it reminds me of you, you know?” Curtis said.
“Really?” Archie sounded startled.
“Yup. Hey, Arch, have you had a chance to think about what we talked about last time? You know, the draft and all?” Curtis caught the big plate of metal as it came loose. Shit! Was it supposed to do that? He sneaked a glance at Archie, but the kid wasn't alarmed, so Curtis used all of his confidence to flip it and set it on the dirt next to him like he'd done it a million times before.
“Uh, yeah. I dunno, Curtis. I'm not even eighteen yet. I mean, I'd love to fight and all, but-”
“I get it. Don't sweat it, kid.” Curtis wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Listen, your old man doesn't sound so good. Between you and me, I'm not sure how much longer he's going to last.”
“Pop?” Archie's voice shot up. “He's just got a cough. He's fine!”
Curtis fixed him with what he hoped was a brotherly look. Whatever that was. Sort of kind, maybe loving, but disbelieving. Curtis wasn't sure he had it right, but then he cocked an eyebrow at the last minute, and he knew he'd nailed it. “I'm going to be straight with you, Archie. He isn't fit for service.”
“I know that. I'd kind of hoped that … well, that you might … “ Archie swallowed and looked down.
“Me?”Curtis was never so glad to have a coup de grâce as he was in this moment. These were dangerous times, and it was every man for himself. Better make his move now than be left to fend for himself on the front lines on some frozen Godforsaken Kraut battlefield. He suppressed a shudder. No, Archie had a better chance than he did to survive; he was younger and could adapt to the rigors of battle. Curtis was married. Becky needed him. Who needed some stupid kid? It was better this way. And Archie might like war. Some people did.
Curtis got to his feet. “I would, Archie. I'd like nothing more than to enlist and defend my country against that German scum. But ...” he fished a piece of paper from his pocket. It was more precious than gold, better than any lottery ticket. “I had a physical. It seems I have a heart condition. Nothing serious, but enough to say that I'm not fit for duty. The army won't take me, I'm afraid.” Curtis hung his head in feigned regret.
Archie stood there, frozen.
“But this is great news for you! You get to be the hero! You get to defend the family honor, right? Your sister is going to be singing about you and missing you while you're off traveling the world. Boy, what I wouldn't give to be in your shoes. You're a lucky kid!” Curtis reached over to ruffle his hair. “Look what I'm stuck here doing: fixing the perpendicular cylinder. You get to kill the enemy and have ribbons made for you by all the pretty girls!”
“But … but ...” Archie had gone white. “I'm not old enough. They won't take me. I've never been on my own before.”
“It's okay. My nephew did the same thing last year, and he got a cushy assignment at Fort Sam Houston with the other new recruits. Just think, you could be a hero and not even have to go further than Texas! And the girls ...” Curtis chuckled. “You can't even begin to imagine the girls you'll get when you're in uniform.”
“But I'm scared, Curtis,” Archie whispered.
Curtis ignored him. “Here, I saved up some cash to get you to the train station in town. Go enlist over the state line in Michigan. You'll ship out, and they'll take care of you. You're going to love the Army life, trust me. And listen, this war isn't going to last. Hitler's a madman. We're going to kick his ass, and you'll be back home in time for Christmas.”
“What?” Archie looked panicked. “You want me to leave? Just like that? Without saying goodbye?”
“Your pop will try and talk you out of it. But this is the only way.” Curtis looked him in the eye. “Your pop doesn't see you as the man you are, and he'll try and take your place, but we both know he won't survive his enlistment. And honestly, Arch, how would you run the farm on your own, anyway?” Curtis gestured at the metal on the ground. “You don't know how to repair a combine harvester. It's a good thing I'm here to hold down the fort. This is a way for you to help the family. Be a man, and do what's right. Don't ask permission, for once in your life. Just do it. I gave you all the help I could. Now it's time for you to make your own decisions.”
Archie looked at the bills in his hand, and he blinked. He took a deep breath, and that's when Curtis knew he'd won.
“Okay. I'll do it.” Archie tried to conceal the tremor in his voice.
“Good man.” Curtis patted him on the shoulder.
They stood there, face to face, before Archie turned to go.
Curtis stared at the hunks of machinery he'd torn apart. Luckily for him, he could blame this on Archie. He'd say that the boy had ripped apart the machine and run off.
“Curtis?”
Curtis jumped. “Yes? What? You'd better get going. Your pop is going to be back soon enough, and you need a head start.”
“Will you pray for me?”
“Yeah, yeah. I'll pray for you.” Curtis waved him off. “You'll be fine. You won't even see action, kid. You'll see.”
“I know, but still. And will you ask Becky to sing that song for me? If I know she's here, singing and thinking of me every night, it wouldn't be so bad.”
Jesus, was the kid ever going to go? Why the sentimentality? “Yes. I'll ask Becky to sing for you every night. But I'm sure I won't have to remind her; she'll be waiting for you to come home. We all will.” Curtis had to suppress a groan. The price of holding the kid's hand right into the front lines was hardly worth it.
“Thanks, Curtis. I'm lucky to have you for a brother-in-law.” Archie turned and walked away.
Curtis didn't bother to watch until he was gone. The truth was, there was no love lost there. He'd always found the kid's devotion to him annoying. Once Howard kicked off, he'd sell this place and move somewhere that suited him. He'd never wanted to be a farmer, anyway.
He patted the piece of paper in his pocket. His lifeline out of this war, thanks to Ronnie. Maybe after the sale of this land, they'd go live near his brother out in California. Ronnie was a doctor, and that was the life to have, Curtis mused. In a short time, there would be nothing but dust to tie him to Ohio, and he and Becky could go where they pleased. That seemed like a good plan, to go and live in the land of sunshine.
“What happened here?” Howard hobbled up from the house. “Why is the feederhouse broken apart? Where's Archie?”
Curtis picked up a wrench and turned to face the old man. “Sir, I have some terrible news for you.”
Author: Keppiehed
Rating: PG
Warnings: language
Word Count: 1826
Prompt: “Kill the Engine”
A/N: Written for week #2 at Brigits_flame. I had a personal challenge of villainy/moral ambiguity to contend with this month, so I hope I was able to fulfill this challenge in addition to the prompt. Um, I just have to say that I really hated this story. It was an exercise in tenacity for me to write when I didn't want to, and nothing else. It is not up to my usual standards, and I just want to say “WAHHH!” because I can't stand it. So please feel free to skip it. Blah. Blah. *cue general flailing and freaking out. please ignore*
A gust of wind broke through the late summer stillness, bringing with it a blast of heat through the Till Plains. The three men paused in their labors and braced themselves against the onslaught; as fast and as firm as these gales whipped up, they died out just as quickly. They waited, eyes watering, for the flurry of super-heated air to blow itself out. In short order, it did just that.
Howard, however, kept coughing even after the draft had passed. He was older now and showing his age. The wracking spasms were proof enough that age was taking its toll, as much as he was loathe to admit it.
Curtis was careful to keep his eyes on his work. The situation called for finesse, and he wasn't about to mess it up by jumping the gun. He applied the socket wrench to the rasp bar and tried to gain as much leverage as he possibly could, but it wouldn't budge. Sweat beaded his brow, and he kept tugging as the old man hacked and spat up some gunk from the ruined recesses of his rotting lungs.
Finally Howard waved his arms in the international “kill the engine” sign, and Archie shut off the switch. Silence reigned in the field for the first time that morning. Curtis cracked his neck, trying not to appear too eager.
“Boys. I'm gonna go have a break. Can you do without me for a time? I'll be back after I've had my lunch. It's this blasted heat, it really wears on a man.” Howard gestured at the sky.
“Pop? You alright?” Archie hopped out of the cab of the combine harvester.
“Course I'm alright! Just gonna go and have me some lunch. Maybe when I get back we'll have gotten that axial rotor unstuck. That's a toughie, there.” Howard shook his head.
“Don't you worry, Howard, Archie and I will see what we can do.” Curtis patted him on the back, aiming for reassuring.
“But if you get it loose, don't start without me, you hear? Come up to the house before you start on the corn.” Howard squinted against the glare to make sure Curtis understood.
Curtis nodded. “You betcha, Howard. And hey, save some of that ham for me, okay? Alice makes the best, and I wouldn't want to miss it because you are sneaking up to the house ahead of me, now, you hear?”
“That's a deal, young man.” Howard made his way over the rise towards the house, and Curtis relaxed. This was the chance he'd been waiting for.
“So, Archie, hand me that Allan wrench, would you? Maybe that'll do the trick.” Curtis leaned over to survey the machinery. He started whistling and began to take apart the concave grate. He had no idea about what was wrong with the combine. It only had to look convincing to Archie.
“Hey, that's Becky's favorite song,” Archie said.
“Yeah, it is. I didn't realize I was even singing it.” Curtis started to hum as he worked. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy, when skies are grey … Your sister is always singing that song, isn't she?”
“Uh-huh.” Archie nodded.
“She told me it reminds me of you, you know?” Curtis said.
“Really?” Archie sounded startled.
“Yup. Hey, Arch, have you had a chance to think about what we talked about last time? You know, the draft and all?” Curtis caught the big plate of metal as it came loose. Shit! Was it supposed to do that? He sneaked a glance at Archie, but the kid wasn't alarmed, so Curtis used all of his confidence to flip it and set it on the dirt next to him like he'd done it a million times before.
“Uh, yeah. I dunno, Curtis. I'm not even eighteen yet. I mean, I'd love to fight and all, but-”
“I get it. Don't sweat it, kid.” Curtis wiped his brow with his sleeve. “Listen, your old man doesn't sound so good. Between you and me, I'm not sure how much longer he's going to last.”
“Pop?” Archie's voice shot up. “He's just got a cough. He's fine!”
Curtis fixed him with what he hoped was a brotherly look. Whatever that was. Sort of kind, maybe loving, but disbelieving. Curtis wasn't sure he had it right, but then he cocked an eyebrow at the last minute, and he knew he'd nailed it. “I'm going to be straight with you, Archie. He isn't fit for service.”
“I know that. I'd kind of hoped that … well, that you might … “ Archie swallowed and looked down.
“Me?”Curtis was never so glad to have a coup de grâce as he was in this moment. These were dangerous times, and it was every man for himself. Better make his move now than be left to fend for himself on the front lines on some frozen Godforsaken Kraut battlefield. He suppressed a shudder. No, Archie had a better chance than he did to survive; he was younger and could adapt to the rigors of battle. Curtis was married. Becky needed him. Who needed some stupid kid? It was better this way. And Archie might like war. Some people did.
Curtis got to his feet. “I would, Archie. I'd like nothing more than to enlist and defend my country against that German scum. But ...” he fished a piece of paper from his pocket. It was more precious than gold, better than any lottery ticket. “I had a physical. It seems I have a heart condition. Nothing serious, but enough to say that I'm not fit for duty. The army won't take me, I'm afraid.” Curtis hung his head in feigned regret.
Archie stood there, frozen.
“But this is great news for you! You get to be the hero! You get to defend the family honor, right? Your sister is going to be singing about you and missing you while you're off traveling the world. Boy, what I wouldn't give to be in your shoes. You're a lucky kid!” Curtis reached over to ruffle his hair. “Look what I'm stuck here doing: fixing the perpendicular cylinder. You get to kill the enemy and have ribbons made for you by all the pretty girls!”
“But … but ...” Archie had gone white. “I'm not old enough. They won't take me. I've never been on my own before.”
“It's okay. My nephew did the same thing last year, and he got a cushy assignment at Fort Sam Houston with the other new recruits. Just think, you could be a hero and not even have to go further than Texas! And the girls ...” Curtis chuckled. “You can't even begin to imagine the girls you'll get when you're in uniform.”
“But I'm scared, Curtis,” Archie whispered.
Curtis ignored him. “Here, I saved up some cash to get you to the train station in town. Go enlist over the state line in Michigan. You'll ship out, and they'll take care of you. You're going to love the Army life, trust me. And listen, this war isn't going to last. Hitler's a madman. We're going to kick his ass, and you'll be back home in time for Christmas.”
“What?” Archie looked panicked. “You want me to leave? Just like that? Without saying goodbye?”
“Your pop will try and talk you out of it. But this is the only way.” Curtis looked him in the eye. “Your pop doesn't see you as the man you are, and he'll try and take your place, but we both know he won't survive his enlistment. And honestly, Arch, how would you run the farm on your own, anyway?” Curtis gestured at the metal on the ground. “You don't know how to repair a combine harvester. It's a good thing I'm here to hold down the fort. This is a way for you to help the family. Be a man, and do what's right. Don't ask permission, for once in your life. Just do it. I gave you all the help I could. Now it's time for you to make your own decisions.”
Archie looked at the bills in his hand, and he blinked. He took a deep breath, and that's when Curtis knew he'd won.
“Okay. I'll do it.” Archie tried to conceal the tremor in his voice.
“Good man.” Curtis patted him on the shoulder.
They stood there, face to face, before Archie turned to go.
Curtis stared at the hunks of machinery he'd torn apart. Luckily for him, he could blame this on Archie. He'd say that the boy had ripped apart the machine and run off.
“Curtis?”
Curtis jumped. “Yes? What? You'd better get going. Your pop is going to be back soon enough, and you need a head start.”
“Will you pray for me?”
“Yeah, yeah. I'll pray for you.” Curtis waved him off. “You'll be fine. You won't even see action, kid. You'll see.”
“I know, but still. And will you ask Becky to sing that song for me? If I know she's here, singing and thinking of me every night, it wouldn't be so bad.”
Jesus, was the kid ever going to go? Why the sentimentality? “Yes. I'll ask Becky to sing for you every night. But I'm sure I won't have to remind her; she'll be waiting for you to come home. We all will.” Curtis had to suppress a groan. The price of holding the kid's hand right into the front lines was hardly worth it.
“Thanks, Curtis. I'm lucky to have you for a brother-in-law.” Archie turned and walked away.
Curtis didn't bother to watch until he was gone. The truth was, there was no love lost there. He'd always found the kid's devotion to him annoying. Once Howard kicked off, he'd sell this place and move somewhere that suited him. He'd never wanted to be a farmer, anyway.
He patted the piece of paper in his pocket. His lifeline out of this war, thanks to Ronnie. Maybe after the sale of this land, they'd go live near his brother out in California. Ronnie was a doctor, and that was the life to have, Curtis mused. In a short time, there would be nothing but dust to tie him to Ohio, and he and Becky could go where they pleased. That seemed like a good plan, to go and live in the land of sunshine.
“What happened here?” Howard hobbled up from the house. “Why is the feederhouse broken apart? Where's Archie?”
Curtis picked up a wrench and turned to face the old man. “Sir, I have some terrible news for you.”