“Blame it on the rain…” Fred’s singing was interrupted.

“You sing that song one more time,” Jim glowered. “I swear to god, I will kill you with my bare hands.”

“Dude, no need to get so riled up, it’s only the best song ever produced in the 80’s.”

Jim shook his head; he hated being partnered with this jerk on deployments, he never felt Fred would have his back if a situation arose. With the storm coming, he wanted to make sure they were across the terminal moraine before it hit.

“Let’s get moving,” Jim demanded.

Fred smiled his moronic smile and grabbed his pack from the floor, lacing his arms through the straps.

“After you boss,” Fred said, causing chills to run along Jim’s spine; that was another thing he hated about Fred, he called everyone boss.

They straddled their three-wheelers and revved the engines; clouds of silvery smoke polluted the air. Fred licked his thumb and wiped it across the skull decal on the gas tank. Jim nodded to Fred before speeding off towards their fate.

See all the entries at Defiantly Literate. 

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