Again, thank you for the kind reviews! They help feedmy souland inspire me to continue! And yes, I still have Shattered to finish, along with two other stories, under Mellon. However, the muses are a whimsical thing and I can only write what I am inspired to. The other stories are coming, however sometimes more pressing things come up and demand to be written first. My place is not to question why - but I always finish what I write, so please bare with me!
Cold Spell
Chapter 20
"Frank?"
No answer.
"Frank?"
"Hmmm?"
"Frank!"
"W-what—"
"You asleep?"
A pause.
"Joe, please…don't tell me you woke me up to ask me if I was asleep…it'd be a shame for me to have to kill you now!"
No answer.
"Joe?"
"Never mind."
"What did you want?"
"I said never mind. Go back to sleep, Frank."
"JOE!"
"WHAT?"
"What did you wake me up for!"
"It really doesn't matter now does it? 'Cause no matter what the reason, you're all peeved off…and if you aren't, I am, now! So goodnight!"
"Joe?"
No answer.
"Joe?"
"I'm sleeping."
The morning of the eighth day didn't go much better.
Frank looked at his brother; the younger boy had just come out of the burrow and was rubbing his shoulder. "Joe?"
"What?"
"You wanna tell me why you woke me up last night."
"No."
"Why not?"
"'Cause it's really stupid and you're going to kill me when you find out."
"No, I'm not."
"You will."
"JOE! Will you just tell me?"
A pause.
"Joe?"
"Well…I was just going to ask you what you missed the most: coffee, pizza or Auntie's chocolate cake?"
A very very long pause.
"You're right, little brother."
"About what?"
"I would have killed you!"
The next three days were foggy and cold. And there was an air of dismalness that permeated through to the occupants of the old burrow, as they knew this would impede the search, taking away any faith they could have about being found during that time.
The brothers spent their time fishing, berry picking, moss gathering or hanging around, either in the burrow or just outside.
Joe preferred to stay outside once he actually got out, finding it cumbersome getting in and out of the entrance with his arm still in a sling. The entrance was large enough for them to use without much difficulty but they still had to crouch down or crawl.
They had also discovered that Frank was the better fisherman, with Joe's impatience and fidgeting making it difficult for him at the best of times.
The older boy found fishing to be very relaxing, and he looked forward to going down to the pond as the highlight of their never-ending day. By practicing some of the martial arts relaxation techniques his sensei had taught him, he could sit almost perfectly still for indefinite periods of time. And his patience paid off with at least one fish a day.
They'd come to the conclusion that fish weren't as plentiful as the arctic rumor would have you believe. Either that, or this was just a bad year!
On the eleventh day Frank had spent most of the morning rearranging the bits of plane wreckage that weren't still attached to the front end, to try and reconstruct some sort of more visible distress signal. They had already turned all the metal pieces shiny side up, to attract attention as the sun glinted off them, but now Frank wanted to make something more elaborate. He was figuring on a geometric shape, a triangle maybe….
More to keep himself occupied than anything else; and to keep his mind off that stupid magazine he knew Joe was still poring over.
The sound of coughing drew his attention back to his brother as Joe slowly made his way out of the burrow.
"You okay?" the older boy asked, instantly becoming worried.
"Yeah," Joe said, gingerly standing up and then letting out a weary sigh when he saw how foggy it still was, "I was kind of hoping the weather would be better today."
"Me too," Frank admitted, eyeing his brother carefully. Did he look a bit paler this morning than before? "Are you sure you're all right?"
Joe sighed again, knowing that his brother's over-protectiveness was part of his residual concern over the rabies. He wished he could do something to finally shove that remaining doubt away from his older brother. They had enough real concerns without Frank stressing over phantom ones!
And people think I'm stubborn, he mused to himself even as he fixed his brother with a wry smile. "I don't have rabies."
"I-I never said you did!" Frank managed with a fair amount of indignity, although it was quite clear Joe's response had taken him off guard.
"No, you didn't. But now you're thinking my coughing is a symptom and if you're overactive imagination doesn't already have me foaming at the mouth, then I'd be surprised!" Joe shot back, and then grimaced, his voice contrite over his previous tone and choice of words. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound so harsh."
Frank scowled but didn't say anything for a moment.
"I just don't want you wasting any more time thinking about it. I'm fine. Yes, I was coughing; I think I'm coming down with a cold—"
"There's no one here for you to catch anything from, except me," Frank pointed out quickly, "and I'm not sick!"
"True," Joe conceded, "However, Erik was sick before we left, and who knows how long the gestation period is for what he had!"
Frank pursed his lips – Major Fields' son had had a nasty cold the last two days they were there….
"Fine," he finally said, deciding to drop this for now, "But I don't have an overactive imagination."
"Do too."
"Don't.
"Do too!"
"Don't!"
"Do too!"
"Joe! Give it up! I don't…and that's that!"
"Whatever you say, big brother." Joe started to walk away from his brother even as he finished, "Not only active, apparently, but deluded as well!"
It was a good thing that Joe got a head start….
"Coffee," Frank said out of the blue later that night, after the brothers had settled down to try and get some sleep.
"What?" Joe's voice sounded half asleep already.
"Coffee," he repeated. "You wanted to know what I missed the most…Well, it's coffee."
Frank thought Joe had fallen asleep and was just closing his eyes himself when he heard a soft voice. "Pizza."
"Pizza?" Frank echoed with a smile. He was a bit surprised about that, as Joe was the family chocoholic, and he was sure his sweet tooth was craving cake. He'd seen the yearning look on his brother's face whenever he saw the unopened box of chocolates.
"Yeah." Joe's voice reached his ears, quiet and a bit melancholy. "But I don't think it's the actual pizza I'm missing…as much as the people who come with it."
Frank felt his breath catch in his throat, knowing exactly what Joe was talking about. Mr. Pizza's…the gang…the feelings of camaraderie and of belonging that were shared as easily as the slices served up hot and delicious….
"I change my mind," he whispered.
"Hmmm?" Joe was almost asleep.
"I think I miss pizza the most as well…"
In the dark, one brother's hand reached across and grasped the other's….They held tight for a moment before each retreated back to its own warmth.
And in the morning, the first thing Frank did was open the box of chocolates….