“Damn it!” Simone skinned her knuckle again on the intake manifold. She caught it good this time—oil and grease are both sticky enough, but blood is a pain in the ass.
She walks over to the parts sink and washes up. She inspects the cut. Not so bad, but it stings like a mother. She wraps gauze around it and puts a latex glove over it as she looks up at the t.v. Sports segment, it’s already half past eleven and the mosquitoes haven’t seemed to let up since the sun went down. But despite all those blasted little vampires, it’s too damn muggy to close the main bay door. She takes a swig of beer and heads back over to the ’70 Chevelle.
Headlights blind her, a newer SUV pulls up. She shields her eyes and takes another swig, then puts down the beer and picks up a very large monkey wrench.
Two very large shadows get out of the still running SUV.
“We’re closed.” Simone raises her voice over the hum of the Dodge.
One of the men approaches, wearing full dress uniform. Six-two, two-twenty-five easy- with skin as dark as charcoal.
“Simone Alvarez?” He booms.
“Who wants to know?” Clever.
“Ms. Alvarez, I’m sorry to say, but your father went missing this morning in over Karachi airspace.”
“No. He’s stationed in Germany-“
“We’ll give you ten minutes to pack some things and lock up, but you’ll need to come with us.”
Writing prompts are a way for me to play in the sandbox of prose without becoming engaged to any large project. I'll be posting these as often as I can. Please, tell me what you think!