Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Volume #1, Chapter #3: Jack Knife ( Chapter 3 )
[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]
Quiet. Heated quiet. Ozzy looked around.
“I think we lost them,” he said. Junko frowned.
“Yeah, but where the hell are we?!?” she asked. Her guardian looked around again.
“Oh…” he mumbled. Desert. Nothing but desert. Hot, dry desert. Junko smacked Ozzy in the back of the head.
“Ow!” he complained.
“So where are we?” she asked.
“I have no idea,” Ozzy said. She frowned at him.
“And how are we going to get out of here?”
“I have no idea…” And then, it got worse.
Suddenly, Ozzy’s bike died. Junko looked up.
“Now what?” she snorted. He tried to start it up again. Took about ten minutes. Ozzy turned to her with a nervous laugh.
“Uh… we have a small problem,” he said at last.
“What?” the dead leader’s sister asked. Ozzy chuckled again.
“My bike’s out of gas.”
“Yep.” Ozzy pressed his lips together.
“So now what?!?”
“We find the nearest gas station, I suppose.”
Junko frowned at him. “And where is that?!?”
She snorted loudly at him. “Now what?!?”
Ozzy shrugged. “Go for one.”
“Where, dumb nuts?!?”
“Oh great! What next?”
Ozzy shrugged. “Hoof it, I guess.”
“Across the desert?”
“Yeah.” Smack to the back of the head! “Ow!” He turned to his ward. “What the hell?!?”
“What?!? It’s not my fault!”
So into the desert they went. Hot waves of air floated around them. So thin. Plus so dry. Junko glared at Ozzy as he pushed the gasless motorcycle along the path.
“How long has it been?” she asked.
“Two hours,” he said.
“I don’t know!”
Punch to the back of the head! “Ow!”
“This is all your fault, you asshole!”
“Your bike’s busted! My brother’s dead and we’re lost in the fucking desert!”
“We’re just out of gas. Your brother’s death is not my fault. And we’re not lost.”
“Oh really? You have a plan?”
“No… But give me a moment. I’ll think of something!”
Junko snorted again. “Idiot!”
Ozzy tried to ignore her. Bonez why did you stick me with this evil bitch?!?, he thought as he clenched his teeth. Junko groaned loud enough to drown out the eerie sand playground quiet.
“Argh! How long is this desert?!?” she cried. Ozzy groaned aloud himself.
“Please stop complaining,” he said. The biker looked up at the cloudless blue sky as he towed the motorbike across the long barren wasteland.
Please let us find some civilization soon!, Ozzy pleaded in his brain. I beg of you! Please, please!
Stairway to Hell