The Restoration Project

3.01 - Skillet

"Big guy. Hey, big guy," a voice said, accompanied by a hand shaking his shoulder.

Skillet opened his eyes to see Righty hunched over him, staring as if he were examining a corpse. Skillet was wrapped in a sleeping bag, lying near the picnic table where they ate dinner. Ludwig was fast asleep in a sleeping bag on Skillet's right—one that normally belonged to Righty—and Charley slept on his left, next to their backpacks.

"Time to get up. It's your turn. I'm freezin' my ass off out here." As if to emphasize his point, Righty rubbed his shoulders and pretended to shiver.

"Thought you were supposed to be on watch all night?" Skillet muttered, remembering Charley doling out that punishment.

"No, no, no, that was just Charley bein' funny. You think I can stay up all night? I need sleep," Righty said.

Skillet grumbled. "OK," he conceded, wiping his eyes. "You owe me one."

"Yeah, yeah," Righty said, nodding his head. Skillet doubted Righty would ever pay him back, but didn't much care. Righty was his friend, and friends took care of each other.

The rest of the park was quiet, the sun still well below the horizon. Only two other people were awake, positioned on guard duty atop the trailers.

"Aww man," Righty said as he wiggled into the sleeping bag, his nose scrunched up. "How many farts did you let out in here?"

Skillet shrugged. "Beans."

"Need a gas mask," Righty added, but rolled on his side and snuggled into the pillow nonetheless.

Stretching his arms behind his back, Skillet marched over to one of the picnic tables and sat down facing the perimeter of the park. His eyes drifted up to the men at the lookout positions. They were still as statues. Possibly sleeping. Skillet then shifted his gaze to the sky and the thousands of stars twinkling in the black velvet of space. The moon was a white orb hanging almost directly above him. He inhaled the crisp and clean night air.

When his chin hit his chest, Skillet snapped his head up, forcing his eyes open. He thought about Charley, and how she acted differently when she left Marty's trailer. She explained that things went as expected, but she was hiding something. He could tell.

His eyelids drooped again. He shook out his arms and twiddled his toes, focusing on specific elements around him. Like the grass, filled with decaying remnants of cigarette butts, shards of glass from a broken bottle, and a few wayward sticks. It was more boring than the sky.

Footsteps padded on the grass behind him. He wanted to turn his head, but he couldn't—he was frozen in place. Some watch he was. Oddly enough, it wasn't out of fear or dread, but anticipation. The thought that someone crept up on him was exciting. His heart skipped a beat when a hand rested on his shoulder. The action broke his trance and he turned to see Charley. She was completely naked. He felt obliged to turn away.

A gentle hand wrapped around his chin and directed it back toward her, forcing him to take in her body. Her small breasts with large nipples, the smooth curve of her waist. She smiled as he stared at her, and then she leaned forward, her lips pursed in a kiss.

His chin hit his chest again. When he snapped awake, there was more scuffling. Footsteps on wet grass. This time it felt different. He peered over his shoulder to confirm Charley was still nestled in her sleeping bag. The scuffling came from the set of trailers in front of him.

"Who's there?" Skillet asked.

The trailers were two black shadows, but he sensed movement within them. Skillet shot to his feet but somehow tangled them around each other. Instead of standing, he flopped onto the grass with a thud.