The Junk Brothers 2b/?

Date: 2012-01-26 11:40 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)
In the end, Elsa ended her own flight as a strap of her harness got caught in an extending piece of steel armouring from a heap of crumbling ferro concrete.
“Elsa”, Wolfgang crooned. “Elsa baby. Come here, don’t be afraid. It’s just your dear uncle Wolfgang. Me, Wolfie, you see?”
Elsa snorted and tore at her harness. A glass pitcher slipped out of a pack, shattering between her feet and Elsa, panicked but caught, kicked out again. Wolfgang in turn was fast enough this time and evaded the blow. He slowly walked around Elsa and finally got a grip on her halter.

“Good girl”, he muttered. “Poor little Elsiebaby.”
Elsa snorted while throwing back her other head.
With a mildly disgusted expression Wolfgang wiped Elsa’s snot from his face with his other hand. “Come on, Elsie. We’ve got work to do, darling.” With these words he leaned over, freed her harness and then reached into one of his pockets from which he produced a mutfruit. Elsa greedily extended one of her heads and slobbered the slightly shrivelled fruit out of his hand. “Come on, baby.” He tugged at the halter and Elsa followed him; hesitatingly, but she followed him. Wolfgang clicked his tongue. “Come on.”

Flak lit a cigarette and exchanged a glance with his friend. Both couldn’t help but wonder about the exact relationship between Wolfgang and his brahmin while listening to him talk to her. It was a little disturbing and neither of the two felt like going into any more detail, not even imaginary.

George had caught up with them by now too, and together they picked their way back through the ruins towards the entrance of the armoury.
While Wolfgang now looked at Elsa’s wound and checked if she had hurt herself any more in her panicked flight, fussing about the creature like a mother hen, George lit a smoke with his back against a wall and Flak and Shrapnel began their search for a vehicle in still good enough a shape for it to be repairable.
All they found, however, were wrecks.

“I think we’ve come here in vain, buddy”, Flak said slowly after several hours of fruitless searching.
Shrapnel took a cigarette out of his pocket and clamped it between his lips. Producing a packet of matches he struck one which went out instantly. He struck another that met the same fate. “Fucksticks”. He struck a third one, and it caught. Heftily puffing his cheeks while shielding the small flame from the wind with his other hand he managed to light up his smoke just before he burned his fingertips. Then he looked around. “There’s gotta be something out here, man.”
Flak shrugged and, smoking with a thoughtful frown, Shrapnel walked past the gate and around a corner, staring at a ramp that led downwards but was blocked by a large heap of rubble and bricks. He puffed his cheeks, exhaled the smoke and then crawled over the rubble and down the ramp.
“You find something, buddy?”, Flak called as he followed him and watched Shrapnel pull a few bricks out of the heap at the bottom of the ramp.
“I think so”, was the slow reply.
Flak scrambled down over the rubble as well and looked at what his friend had found. At the wall, half hidden by the rubble of the collapsed walls from the top storeys of the building was a scratched and battered, old, rusty metal sign saying: “ALL TER IN VEHI S”.

They looked at each other.
“All terrain vehicles?” Flak chewed on his cigarette.
“I bet you”, Shrapnel replied. “Get the others, we need to move that shit.”
“How sure are you that the garage isn’t empty?”
Shrapnel shrugged with an unhappy grin. “We can only hope, buddy.”
Spitting out his butt end Flak shook his head with a sigh and climbed up the ramp again while behind him Shrapnel rolled up his sleeves and began to tear bricks out of the rubble.
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