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gumnut-logic · 4 years

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Take a Minute

This is another case of me just indulging myself. It took longer than expected and ended up at around 2400 words, none of which really go anywhere.

Many thanks to @i-am-chidorixblossom for the read through and cheering.

I hope you enjoy it.

-o-o-o-

The hatch creaked as the hydraulics let it down to the dry hard packed dirt. A small puff of dust billowed up around the hot cahelium and it caught in his nose, tickling in the heat.

The horizon was flat and the earth iron red as it disappeared into the ominous grey of the cloud blocking the sky.

Virgil’s boots made their own puffs of dust as he stepped off the hatch and emerged from under the shadow of Two. The puffs followed him as he walked the length of his ‘bird. The dirt gritted under his specialised soles as he avoided the heat of her cooling VTOL and the scorch of her now quiet thrusters.

His landing was precautionary. A warning light had come on during the flight home and dumping himself in the middle of the Outback for a mechanical check was preferable to taking a swan dive in the middle of the Tasman.

Outside appearances gave no clue to the issue and unfortunately, he would have to wait for her engines to cool off before attempting to access the thruster that was the problem.

A sigh and he turned back to look at the horizon.

He truly was in the middle of nowhere.

“Thunderbird Two, status report.”

Typical Scott. His brother was hip deep in a rescue on the other side of the planet, but his brother radar still managed the range.

“Status a-okay, Thunderbird One. Just taking a moment to gaze at the scenery.”

“John says you have a mechanical fault.”

“Quite possibly. Fine for the moment. Just need a little cooling time. I’ll keep you updated.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

And then it was back to the silence.

True silence.

There was no wind.

No water.

No birds.

Just the heat of a dying day leaching out of the sand, the creak of his cooling ‘bird, and the potential energy in the air.

It was going to rain.

The Kansas farm boy could tell that much. Even in another country and an entirely different environment, he could feel it.

He didn’t need fancy instrumentation to predict that.

The impending storm raised the hair on his arms under his uniform. It itched at his skin and spoke of change.

Ants crawled across his boots, winged queens and drones launching to join a cloud of them off to his right.

It was eerie.

He shifted where he stood, unsure of what to do next. He wasn’t one for killing time. Time was a valuable thing and needed to be used to its upmost. But this stop was unplanned and there was little he could do while waiting.

Sure, there were tasks. There were always tasks, nitty gritty maintenance jobs. He was never short of work.

But the air was still. The sense of building atmospheric release buzzed across his senses.

It was tantalising.

He shivered.

There were still a couple of hours before sunset, but the air was dark due to the heavy cloudbank looming over the landscape.

A thought.

A flash of guilt followed by stubborn determination.

He turned and climbed back on to the hatch and retracted it, only to lower it again a few moments later with a folded chair and a box in his hands.

He parked it in the sand.

The silence was a physical presence.

He opened the box to reveal a portable watercolour kit – a neat palette of half pans, a fine brush and a small block of high-quality paper.

It was an indulgence he kept aboard his ‘bird. One he had yet to use, so this was definitely an opportune moment. A tiny amount of time to throw down some colour and capture this red-on-blue-grey intensity.

It didn’t take him long to realise he had forgotten a couple of things. A muttering step back into his ‘bird and he returned with a small table and a cup full of water.

He finally managed to settle himself. Painting while wearing his uniform wasn’t the most comfortable. It was bulky and in the way. He did shed his gloves, which meant he had to take off his wrist controller. Scott would frown enough to dent his nose, but he couldn’t paint with his gloves on.

There was heavy lifting, but there was also sensitive and tactile manipulation. He liked to think he was capable of both.

A dip of his brush into clear water, a dab of cadmium red, and colour spilled onto the paper.

Payne’s grey filled the sky in soft billows with just a hint of ultramarine. He tried to keep his touch gentle. Watercolour was so unforgiving. Fast and delicate, the colours could easily be overdone and unlike acrylic or oils, could not be undone satisfactorily.

It took all his concentration to sketch out the worn landscape.

The parched air dried the colours quickly and it wasn’t long before he was flicking strands of yellow ochre spinifex in the foreground, the little painting almost done.

In the distance, the clouds rumbled warning.

He dabbed in a second layer to bring up the contrast, the greys echoing the thunder on the horizon. Just a touch of green brought out the red of the iron in the sand.

“I really don’t know how you do that.”

Virgil nearly fell out of his chair.

“Scott!” His heart thudded in his ears and he clutched the drying painting in his hands as it tried to slip from his fingers. “What the hell?! How did you…?” He shot to his feet and turned to find his brother standing behind him. Beyond, at a respectable distance, sat Thunderbird One.

Scott held up both hands, taking a step back. “Hey, I saw you were painting, so I parked back a ways. Figured you wouldn’t want VTOL messing with your paints.” But then his brother was smothering a grin. “You were kinda zoned out there, Virg.”

“You were in Prague! How did you get here so fast?” It was a stupid question. He was Scott Tracy. Fast was part of his genome.

But his brother frowned. “It’s been over an hour since I last contacted you. The situation is resolved. I was on my way back and thought I’d check in. John said he hadn’t had an update.”

Virgil stared at his brother. An hour? He brought his wrist up to check the time, but his controller was on the little table beside his chair with his discarded gloves.

Oh.

Scott arched an eyebrow at him.

Virgil grunted before putting the painting down carefully and retrieving his equipment. A moment later, his gloves were on and his wrist controller back in place.

It was indeed over an hour later.

Thunderbird Two would have cooled down enough forty-odd minutes ago.

“You were lost in your painting, weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. His brother sighed, walked over to the table and picked up the piece of art. Blue eyes scrutinised it. “Nope. I don’t have a clue how you do that. It’s great, Virg.” He handed it over and somewhat numbly, Virgil took it.

He stared at the strokes in which he had been so absorbed earlier. The landscape stretched into the paper, reds bouncing off blues, the stillness captured in pigments.

Okay, so he had to admit, it was working quite well. He had muddied the colour a little in one corner and there was a patch where he’d left more white paper than was probably necessary because he was too worried about over doing the paint, but overall it mostly did what he wanted it to do. Oh, his wash hadn’t quite worked in that bit. Damn.

But…

He could get away with it.

“Earth to Virgil? You okay in there?”

Scott was smirking.

Virgil glared at him before cradling the watercolour block in one hand, picking up the palette with the other and packing it away. He stomped his way back to his ‘bird.

He ignored the laugh behind him.

He was stashing the paints in their locker when Scott joined him in Two, both the table and chair folded up in his hands. “Where do you stash these?”

Virgil gestured in the direction of the utility store and his brother put the equipment away.

Back in the cockpit, Virgil pulled up the suspect control and found the red light still glaring accusingly as Scott entered behind him.

“Give me ten. I need to inspect her starboard thruster.” He grabbed a safety line and threw back the overhead hatch. The gloomy atmosphere crept into the cockpit, but he ignored it and elevated the himself up so he could climb onto the top of his ‘bird.

“Virgil, you do know there is a storm coming in. You’re standing on the highest point for miles.”

“I’ll only be a minute.” Keep your pants on.

But his brother was right. His dawdling with his paints had cost him time and the weather was moving in.

He hurried across the back of his Thunderbird sliding carefully onto her starboard intake, and making his way down to the access hatch. He hooked in his safety line, prodded his controller to release the security, and hauled the hatch open.

Five minutes later, with several profane words that had Scott even more concerned, he yanked an obstruction out of her secondary intake valve.

It was a bright yellow, now somewhat grimy, Thunderbird Four.

No more than four inches long.

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Virg? What? Who?”

“Gordon.” He didn’t elaborate. The sky was well and truly rumbling now and he needed to get inside.

Tightening the valve, he gave it a good once over to check for damage. Another poke at his controller and the dash confirmed the issue resolved.

Access secured, he unhooked his line and made a run for the main hatch just as the landscape lit up white with lightning.

He leapt into his ‘bird as if he had that lightning on his tail.

His boots hit deck plates. Virgil reached up and threw the hatch closed and sealed away the angry sky.

Scott was staring at him.

Virgil met that gaze before walking past his brother towards his pilot seat. He casually chucked the little Thunderbird Four to his brother like the grenade it was.

Scott caught it. “What the hell?”

Gordon was dead twice over and he didn’t even know it.

“You better get back to your ‘bird. The sky’s going to open up any minute and we should probably be above it rather than below it.” Virgil poked at the weather read out. It was only a weather front, nothing compared to the cyclone forces the Thunderbirds were capable of tackling. “You might get wet.”

Scott was still glaring at the model in his hand. A distracted grunt.

Gordon was definitely dead.

Possibly more than twice.

“Okay, less imaginary brother murders and more getting back to your ‘bird.”

“Huh?”

Yeah, so now who was zoning out?

Virgil nudged his brother onto the hatch platform and stepped on himself, lowering it onto the red dust again.

He stepped off the deck plates just as the first fat rain drops started to hit the dust.

Damn. “Too late.” And as if he had given the sky permission, it really opened up.

Water hit dry earth in big splats, puffs of red rose only to be taken down by more rain. The stipple of water fast became patches and then the land deepened in colour. The bright iron red darkened almost to a burgundy. The spinifex he had so finely painted not half an hour earlier, shifted from a yellow ochre to a gold that almost glowed in the remnant light.

As Scott stepped up beside him, secure under the protection of Two’s nose, the landscape bleached suddenly and the sky grumbled and cracked. The air smelt of ozone and the sharp evaporation of precipitation in the heat. But there was more water than the air or the earth could take and it puddled in the indents between the rocks.

Some kind of thorny lizard darted out from a tuft of spinifex and hurried under the shelter of Two beside the brothers. At the lack of the rain on its back, it looked up as if surprised. Two reptilian eyes stared at them before darting back out into the rain.

Scott took another step forward and Virgil put a hand on his arm.

“You’re not going to try to run through that.”

“I’ve got to get back to One.”

“Why?”

“Because…” His brother trailed off.

Virgil squeezed his arm gently. “Take a minute. This is a desert storm. It will be short lived. We can wait.”

Blue eyes stared at him.

Okay, so waiting wasn’t part of Scott Tracy’s genome.

“Take a minute. Watch.” Virgil turned back to the storm and revelled in the release of the tension that had been building for the last couple of hours. He watched the rain hit the earth, the patterns, the dance of spinifex leaves. He listened to the roar, the wet splat against cahelium, the sigh as the water disappeared into the grass and the grumbles in the clouds.

Scott eventually turned to look and, for a short while there, they were just a couple of brothers staring out at the storm.

The fact they were sheltering underneath one of the most advanced technological creations on the planet was unimportant.

“This is all your fault, you know.” Scott’s voice was soft.

A grunt. “I think Gordon’s is the more likely culprit.”

“If you hadn’t stopped to paint, we’d be home by now.”

Virgil didn’t answer immediately. He took a breath. “But then we would have missed this.”

At that moment the sun finally hit the horizon and slipped through a gap in the clouds to light up the wet landscape in gold. Rain still fell, but it was as if it was liquid sunlight failing from the sky. Water glistened on everything and the clouds lit up from underneath.

Thunder rumbled in clouds turning pink in the east.

“Yeah, we would.” But the acknowledgement was distracted as Scott stared at the spectacle.

Perhaps they had something for which to thank Gordon. It was a moment that they would never have experienced if Virgil hadn’t had to stop.

He breathed in the freshened air and let it out with a relaxing sigh.

No.

Gordon was still dead.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy

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wordydelights · 7 years

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When Galaxies Collide - chapter two (draft)

I drew back the plastic shower curtains, old, tattered and containing possible substances of mold growing on the inner layer of its rim. I turned the nickel stained faucet ever so slightly. Our shower was the type of shower that would heat up almost instantaneously. To some, they may see it as a blessing, however to me it’s more of a nuisance. I prefer a more divergent form of showering. Cold.

It was either that or having the fires from hell scorch my balls. I also had a few valuable reasons for giving up hot water. The first mainly being, my sensitive balls. The second being the fact how in movies actors seem to over sexualize taking steamy showers, and for me and my awkward body, it just didn’t seem appropriate. It’s not like I’m oddly built or unproportional. I’m average, but that’s just it. I’m average. And lastly, the third reason being the feeling after you turn the faucet off and the water races down the drain, leaving you with a warm fuzzy feeling that quickly fades away, begging for coal to fuel the fire as the cool gust of air from the vent hits you like a drunken truck driver. A feeling of abandonment. A feeling of loss, when you realize it had to end, because all good things come to an end and reality sets in. No longer are you in a carefree world of daydreams and safety. As soon as that water cuts off, that brief illusion of comfort shatters. I was tired of being abandoned, given a false sense of security, believing what was too good to be true. So, this was my way of minimizing the burden.

I took a step, my feet pressing against the acrylic floor. I felt a glorifying sense of relief, like I always do when bathing. There I was, having absolutely nothing to do besides wash my body. I don’t know why but it must be something about the water that allows you to think about absolutely nothing, a blank mind and still feel entertained, content.

I was probably mindlessly staring at the Johnson’s No Tears Baby Bath Wash bottle longer than expected because my father was banging on the bathroom door telling me I had drained half the ocean by now. But, I didn’t really care. I began to violently scrub the strawberry scented shampoo into my scalp. I could feel the flakes of dead skin running underneath my fingernails. I proceeded to rinse the soapy substance from my hair.

I decided to skip conditioner that night because 1. that would have taken me at least five more minutes and dad was already trying to kill me and 2. it was optional.

It wasn’t like my hair needed it anyways, even though I guess it was longer than most guys hair in my school. It was sort of curly/wavy darkish hair reaching to the bottom of my earlobes…birds might mistake it as a nest. Sure, it was a bit messy but it really didn’t bother me much. The only hassle was constantly having to stroke my bangs out of my eyes, luckily my glasses often did that for me.

I pulled a towel off the rack, patting myself dry. I could hear the sound of the water slowly draining, picking up its pace as time passed.

Still dripping, I nearly slid across the hall to my bedroom. Out of my peripheral vision I noticed something familiar through the window. I recognized that forest green jeep, in far too nice of a condition, sitting in our driveway. To me, it's the type of vehicle you get down and dirty with, but to my brother it was like driving a Mercedes Benz.

The doorbell rang, automatically igniting a flame within me. A flame that for so long had been burnt out. You know that feeling when you aren’t really excited for something until it actually happens? That is how I felt about Landon’s arrival. I wanted to be mad at him, mad at him for waiting this long to come visit, but I couldn’t help myself because holy shit, I missed him.

I bolted out of my bedroom, not even bothering to throw on some clothes, gripping tightly on the towel wrapped around my waist. I managed to make it down the stairs and to the front door without landing on my face.

Staring at the door, not giving a second thought as to how I was going to greet him, I turned the knob. The words began to escape my mouth before I even saw his face or unlocked the door.

“Brothaaaa-,” the the screened door swung open, I outstretched my arms, but quickly did my words become awkward silence as I met the face of a stranger, a womanly stranger. Landon stood beside her, his eyes widened in shock. All but a few seconds had probably passed before anything was said, but to me it felt like hours.

“Uhhhh Jackson…,” Landon began, clearing throat. “This is Nicole…,” he said while releasing his hand from her clutch only to uncomfortably scratch the back of his neck. “...my girlfriend,” he continued. She eyed me from head to toe then raising her eyebrows, but quickly snapped back into character.

“Hi!” she ever so enthusiastically smiled, completely disregarding the horrifyingly unsettling moment we had all just endured.

I was frozen, stuck in a time of pure and utter embarrassment. She swiftly took a step forward, not missing a beat, without giving me a head start to at least fasten the towel now hanging hanging low on my waist and went in for a rather friendly hug.

“I’ve heard so much about you!” Her breasts nearly crushed then liquified my body. Not to mention the fact that there was only a small piece of damp fabric between us and indecent exposure.

The only thoughts present in my mind at the moment were: How much did those boulders attached to her chest cost? Shit, towel don’t fail me now. And that I better behave myself down there. It’s not like I found her really attractive but having a girl’s boobs inches near your face could provoke some unclean thoughts.

Unfortunately Nicole did not seem to understand the concept of time before displays of affection between two strangers become completely uncomfortable. Not only had she reached the standard limit for embrace between two strangers but definitely exceeded the amount of seconds to hug a guy unexpectedly in nothing but a strip of cloth.

As she released my nearly limp body from her grasp I instantly reached for the towel before it fell to my ankles.

Landon now holding back his laughter, held out his arms and exhaled, “God, I’ve missed you bud.”

I don’t know if it was the sudden shock of having one of my closest encounters with breasts, besides Aunt Lila’s on Thanksgiving, or a mixture of embarrassment and sentimental feelings of joy for Landon’s arrival, but, I teared up and couldn’t stop smiling as we patted backs and shared a brotherly hug.

I guess you would have to understand what it’s like to have an older brother who you always admired and looked up to, or maybe it was just Landon and I’s relationship, but the way you would share a hug is in an almost father son way, except you both are best friends. I didn’t reply, didn’t say a word because no words needed to be said. It was enough for me.

They walked through the door, being bombarded by another round of hugs. After the greetings were exchanged and accepting my “future sister in law” as apart of the family, which happened within about five minutes, Gracie handed Landon another one of her masterpieces, as my mom dragged Nicole into the kitchen for some gal talk.

By dinner time, my parents had practically added Nicole to their will, as if we had known her as an old family friend for years. I hated it.

Every now and then my mom would ask the lovebirds questions about marriage, kids and finances. Topics Landon would brush off by saying not to get too ahead of themselves, but my mother doesn’t give up that easily. Nicole, however, seemed very pleased to answer these specific type of inquiries. She’d excitedly inch forward from her seat towards my parents, brushing her perfectly straightened hair out of her face and give a not so brief overview of how she would like her future children “Regina and Olivia” to be raised. Landon would slump back uncomfortably in his chair staying silent.

I didn’t understand their relationship, it disgusted me. Every time they would stare into each other’s eyes while going over how they met and their lives on campus together caused me to throw up a little in my throat.

You might be wondering why I am so bitter about Nicole’s new place in the Novak’s family tree. Maybe it was because Landon had never told us about this mystery named Nicole, how serious it had gotten between the two and that he was going to bring her to our family reunion. Maybe it was because I had come to a realization that she was the reason Landon had not visited sooner or lacked to communicate with his loving kindred. Maybe it occurred to me that the reason he didn't stay long for summer break was because he had already made plans on having sex on the beach with Nicole. And not just the alcoholic beverage. Maybe I put the pieces together and discovered the reason Landon had not joined our table for thanksgiving was because he already had a seat reserved with Nicole’s wealthy family. Busy talking about political issues and his future career goals with her Father while the underarms of his tux became damp from a nervous sweat.

No, it wasn’t any of those things…well maybe some of those things but the reason I mostly despised her was that she was a total and absolute bitch. She wasn’t one of those bitches that is very open about their bitchiness, she was the subtle bitch who seems innocent in the eyes of others. The worst kind.

I could see through her filthy disguise. The way she interrupted Landon when he tried to speak, hopelessly strived for the approval of others, phonily laughed, spray tanned her skin in that ‘oh it’s natural’ (when it clearly isn’t) sort of way, always reverted the conversation to herself and only moved her body in positions that would flatter her figure were the common symptoms of Bitchorrea.

“Jackson you’re awfully quiet,” my mom said as her hands seemed to beckon for me to engage.

I rose my glass of water and began to guzzle the liquid as if I had just returned from a long day in the coal mines. I exhaled with satisfaction, the way you would after quenching your dehydration.

“Yeah, I just don’t want to disrupt the uhh…,” I waved my fork in the air while searching for the appropriate words, “…family bonding.”

There was a brief hush, all that was heard were the sounds of knives slicing through slightly tough meat and mouths devouring their sustenance. Of course, Nicole was the one to break it.

She seized her spotlight back within a matter of seconds by mentioning how she volunteers at her local animal shelter. I scoffed as I thought about how much that actually made sense. I could definitely see her overjoyed to euthanize the poor critters.

Gracie seemed in awe of Nicole, as a Star Wars geek would be when meeting Harrison Ford. She was the entertainment to Nicole’s massive ego, which it so desperately craved. I was the last sane person in the room.

Dinner wrapped up around half past eight, but I was the first to excuse myself. Obviously.

I ran upstairs to my room, hearing the sounds of my parents and Landon bicker about the sleeping arrangements fade into the background.

Nicole: Oh gosh where should I sleep? I have “back problems.”

My thoughts: Probably from those watermelons on your chest.

My mom: Oh sweetie, I’m sure Landon would be happy to give up his bed for you.

Landon: What? Mom, I’m twenty-one years old, I should be able to share a bed with my girlfriend.

Mom: Not under this roof. Don’t think I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, I have three kids you know.

And it continued on like that for a few more minutes until Landon began making himself home on our sofa, and not on our regular couch, no it was too small, Landon would be sleeping on the couch from hell in the garage.

#excerpt from a book i'll never write #writing #draft #prose #story #short story #chapter #teen fiction #young adult

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