Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies
A/N: Thankies for reviewing Harley and Sita-yu. *luffles Sita* You're my hero ^_^ hehehe.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Mom? Dad?" I call out as I walk through the door. "Mom? You home?"
I hear footsteps pounding up from the basement, then the door flies open and my mother comes running out. She pauses, gathers herself, then smiles. "Hello, honey. How was school today?"
I shrug. "Tolerable."
My mom nods, then walks to the sink and scrubs at her hand. For the first time I see there's blood.
"Mom. You alright?"
She laughs. "Of course I'm alright, Kevin. Just got a little problems with Steel, he got scraped up a little, and I had to get some ointment from the supply downstairs." She says, naming the prize stud. From what my parents say, back in his day Steel was the best of the best- until he the trailer he was riding in got knocked over and he fractured the bone and couldn't compete any more.
I nod. "Does dad want my help."
She shakes her head, her Asian features stubborn. "No. Do your homework, Kevin."
I sit down and take out my math book. As I open it (Algebra- ugh) Mom turns around again.
"Actually, you should probably do that in the tack room."
I stare wide-eyed at my mother. When I was younger I'd always beg her to let me do my homework in the stables, but she never let me- said it was too much of a distraction.
My mom stayed home ever since I was born- before that she was a nurse in the city. It's been about sixteen years since she gave that up.
I blink and gather my books, and toss them in the bag and begin to walk out the door.
"Kevin."
I turn back to my mom.
"Mask."
I nod, pull up my mask so that it's snugly fitted around my nose and mouth, and I walk out the door.
The farm doesn't look much different than before the leak- except for the new fire fit where we burn the dead horses' bodies. Actually, only my dad does that- my mom and I keep away. We can't bury the horses that die from radiation- it'll only keep the poison in the ground.
I walk in the door to the tack room, drop off my bookbag, then walk out into the stables.
"Dad? You here?"
"Yeah, down here!" he calls from inside a stall at the end.
I walk down there, where he's cradling Blue Ghost's- he's one of our two blue roan quarter horses- head in his lap.
I grit my teeth together.
"Ghost sick, too, dad?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"Last night. It hit him hard."
I swallow. "And Blue Angel. Is she sick too?" I ask, thinking of Blue's rare twin sister- a horse so short she's practically a pony.
He shakes his head. "No. Not yet. I'm expecting it soon, though."
"'Heard Steel got a scratch."
Dad paused, then nodded. "Yeah. He's fine now."
"What happened?"
"Shouldn't you be doing your homework?"
I shrug again. "Mom said I could do it in the tack room."
Dad looked down at Ghost's head, stroked his red beard (a sure sign that he was deep in thought) then looked back at me. "You should go do your homework in the kitchen. I'll call you if anything changes with ghost."
Meaning he'll call me when Ghost dies and he needs me to back the flatbed trailer into the stable so we can haul the body out to the fire pit.
I turn away as Ghost takes a shaky breath, and walk down the aisle.
We used to have three stables full of the thoroughbred my parents bred. Now all of them fit into the large, center stable. With Swifty's death, all of this year's colts are dead- we have three fillies left. Last years foals are gone, and Angel is all we have of the three-year-olds. Wait- we still have Ghost too. Although not for long.
Steel pokes his head out over the half door on the end, his gray coat shining in the sunset.
"Heya, boy." I run a hand lightly over his neck, then check for the scrape my parents were talking about.
There isn't one.
I frown, but shrug it off. It's probably somewhere I can't see from outside the stall. I pat his neck one last time, and go back to the kitchen, grabbing my book bag on the way.
Halfway though my algebra problems, a crash comes from downstairs.
I freeze. "Mom?"
There's no answer. I swallow, and head towards the basement door. "Mom?"
Still, no answer. My stomach begins to twinge like it does when I get nervous, and I opened the door, walking quietly down the stairs.
When I reach the bottom, I freeze as several pairs of eyes focus on me- although I'm paying more attention to the ones that aren't.
They're the contaminated. Muties. Sick ones, in my basement.
I could tell by looking at them. Even though they weren't glowing.
A/N: Thankies for reviewing Harley and Sita-yu. *luffles Sita* You're my hero ^_^ hehehe.
~*~*~*~*~*~
"Mom? Dad?" I call out as I walk through the door. "Mom? You home?"
I hear footsteps pounding up from the basement, then the door flies open and my mother comes running out. She pauses, gathers herself, then smiles. "Hello, honey. How was school today?"
I shrug. "Tolerable."
My mom nods, then walks to the sink and scrubs at her hand. For the first time I see there's blood.
"Mom. You alright?"
She laughs. "Of course I'm alright, Kevin. Just got a little problems with Steel, he got scraped up a little, and I had to get some ointment from the supply downstairs." She says, naming the prize stud. From what my parents say, back in his day Steel was the best of the best- until he the trailer he was riding in got knocked over and he fractured the bone and couldn't compete any more.
I nod. "Does dad want my help."
She shakes her head, her Asian features stubborn. "No. Do your homework, Kevin."
I sit down and take out my math book. As I open it (Algebra- ugh) Mom turns around again.
"Actually, you should probably do that in the tack room."
I stare wide-eyed at my mother. When I was younger I'd always beg her to let me do my homework in the stables, but she never let me- said it was too much of a distraction.
My mom stayed home ever since I was born- before that she was a nurse in the city. It's been about sixteen years since she gave that up.
I blink and gather my books, and toss them in the bag and begin to walk out the door.
"Kevin."
I turn back to my mom.
"Mask."
I nod, pull up my mask so that it's snugly fitted around my nose and mouth, and I walk out the door.
The farm doesn't look much different than before the leak- except for the new fire fit where we burn the dead horses' bodies. Actually, only my dad does that- my mom and I keep away. We can't bury the horses that die from radiation- it'll only keep the poison in the ground.
I walk in the door to the tack room, drop off my bookbag, then walk out into the stables.
"Dad? You here?"
"Yeah, down here!" he calls from inside a stall at the end.
I walk down there, where he's cradling Blue Ghost's- he's one of our two blue roan quarter horses- head in his lap.
I grit my teeth together.
"Ghost sick, too, dad?"
"Yeah."
"Since when?"
"Last night. It hit him hard."
I swallow. "And Blue Angel. Is she sick too?" I ask, thinking of Blue's rare twin sister- a horse so short she's practically a pony.
He shakes his head. "No. Not yet. I'm expecting it soon, though."
"'Heard Steel got a scratch."
Dad paused, then nodded. "Yeah. He's fine now."
"What happened?"
"Shouldn't you be doing your homework?"
I shrug again. "Mom said I could do it in the tack room."
Dad looked down at Ghost's head, stroked his red beard (a sure sign that he was deep in thought) then looked back at me. "You should go do your homework in the kitchen. I'll call you if anything changes with ghost."
Meaning he'll call me when Ghost dies and he needs me to back the flatbed trailer into the stable so we can haul the body out to the fire pit.
I turn away as Ghost takes a shaky breath, and walk down the aisle.
We used to have three stables full of the thoroughbred my parents bred. Now all of them fit into the large, center stable. With Swifty's death, all of this year's colts are dead- we have three fillies left. Last years foals are gone, and Angel is all we have of the three-year-olds. Wait- we still have Ghost too. Although not for long.
Steel pokes his head out over the half door on the end, his gray coat shining in the sunset.
"Heya, boy." I run a hand lightly over his neck, then check for the scrape my parents were talking about.
There isn't one.
I frown, but shrug it off. It's probably somewhere I can't see from outside the stall. I pat his neck one last time, and go back to the kitchen, grabbing my book bag on the way.
Halfway though my algebra problems, a crash comes from downstairs.
I freeze. "Mom?"
There's no answer. I swallow, and head towards the basement door. "Mom?"
Still, no answer. My stomach begins to twinge like it does when I get nervous, and I opened the door, walking quietly down the stairs.
When I reach the bottom, I freeze as several pairs of eyes focus on me- although I'm paying more attention to the ones that aren't.
They're the contaminated. Muties. Sick ones, in my basement.
I could tell by looking at them. Even though they weren't glowing.