Fiction Short Story

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Fiction Short Story

by C.A. Robert

Get Out The Whips

"Get out the whips and take five," Kyle ordered.

As a general rule, he didn't usually break into the supplies until they were closer to the ridge. But Kyle Lang had been at this long enough to know when the rules needed bending. A good leader knew that you could only push the troops so far.

Troops? This lot wasn't much more than a bunch of green kids, babies really. He should have listened to his gut and never agreed to take this mission. He took a swallow from his canteen and surveyed the motley group.

There were only five of them left, himself included. They had started out with double that number. He couldn't help but wonder how many would be there at the end. And of them, how many would no longer be boys, but instead have become men.

Kyle smirked. He knew at least one who would never grow into manhood—Sally Keane. He couldn't help but miss the old days when girls weren't allowed. Not that he could find fault with Sally. Not only could she keep up, but she could run rings around most of her comrades. Still, he had yet to be convinced that this was any place for a girl.

Capping his canteen, he looked over at Peter Wellington, better known as Peewee. Short on stature, long on grit. With the exception of Sam, Peewee was the only one that Kyle had really logged in any time with. When Peewee got hurt early on, Kyle felt his pain. His first inclination was to send him back and have his leg taken care of. He'd even have Sally or the other newbie, Johnny Boy, escort him. Peewee declined the offer, protesting that he could go on. Kyle should have insisted, he was slowing them down. But, he knew that this would be the kids' last trip out, he had been giving the word. He was moving out at the end of the month.

A loud, comical sniffle drew everyone's attention to the outer perimeters of their makeshift camp. Johnny Boy dragged his nose over his shirt sleeve, leaving a glistening trail in its wake. "What? I told you I was coming down with a cold."

None challenged that the moisture in his eyes were really tears.

Maybe it wasn't too late to turn back.

"Ready," Sam said, coming up behind Kyle.

Kyle almost couldn't conceal his smile. Sam already had his backpack secured and was ready to go. Samuel had been with him from the beginning of these little jaunts. He had been an eager pupil and soaked up whatever Kyle had to teach him. There wasn't another that Kyle trusted more to be by his side. Maybe it was time to turn over the reins of command. It was no secret that he was getting too old for this.

"I'm ready too," Johnny Boy said, with as much conviction as a sniffle would allow.

"Times a-wasting," added Peewee trying to hoist himself up on one leg.

"Forward Ho!" Sally joined in reaching a hand out to Peewee.

Kyle swallowed the rock that had lodged in his throat and purposely marched off ahead. Johnny Boy might get away with explaining that his tears were brought on from sneezing, but Kyle couldn't.

***

They reached their destination amid whoops and war cries. Precious water spilled from the canteens, not into parched throats but unto Kyle's head instead. The coach had led his team to victory! They laughed, knowing that they could not be heard.

Trying to maintain his stern demeanor and keep some semblance of control, Kyle barked, "Bazookas for everyone, Sam."

As Sam scrambled to do his bidding, Kyle looked over the rough terrain they had traveled to get here. It had been worth it. From his vantage point he could see the whole town nestled below.

"Bazooka, sir?"

Kyle accepted his. Everyone else was cradling theirs, awaiting his command. Savoring their impatience, Kyle took his time. He looked each one in the eye.

Then finally he spoke.

"Chew!"

Wrappers were ripped off, tiny comics extracted and gum popped into eager mouths.

"Sir, just thought you'd like to know we have half a box of red hots, a dozen tootsie rolls and four of the red licorice whips left for the trip back. Peewee's knee is already starting to scab up, that's a good sign, isn't it? He says it hardly hurts, but boy, when his mom sees that he ripped another pair of new jeans... Oh, and Johnny Boy wants to know if he can come with us again next time. I think he's just trying to impress Sally...".

"Sam," Kyle interrupted. "We can talk about it all later. Why don't you go play? It looks like they're starting up a game. We can't stay more than an hour or so if we're going to make it home for supper. And quit calling me sir! You know Mom hates it."

The last fell upon deaf ears as Sam ran off to join the others. Kyle plopped down on the ground. He carefully pulled the comic from the hard, pink, square of gum. Hearing the screams of "You're it" and "Can't catch me" made him mutter, "Kids." Unfolding the tiny piece of paper, he read the adventures of Bazooka Joe and allowed himself a smile.

Copyright © 2004 C.A. Robert

About the Author
C.A. Robert lives in Florida with her husband, three children, and a variety of animals. When not spending time with her family or writing, she spends her free time battling weeds in what she likes to think of as her garden.