Junktown Radio

A Story by Tea4Two

First page of the first draft of a short story

Junktown Radio

A young man dreams. He stares over the grassy field, watching with a blank expression as the setting sun washes over the brown grass in front of him . The lights of the many ramshackle dwellings could be seen flickering to life in the distance. The field was studded with huge chunks of ageing metal, the decaying carcasses of old war planes, tanks and trucks. Nothing but the hard steel frameworks had survived. This was a graveyard for old machines. This was Junk Town.

‘Don’t you ever get sick of this place?’ said Ozzy, before taking a swig from the plain green bottle in his hand. ‘Don’t you ever just feel like getting the f**k out?’
He waited for an answer… none came.
He reached down beside him and picked up a small rock, tossing it upwards and back. There was a loud hollow clang as the rock connected metal.
‘Holy! What the hell was that for? I almost fell clean off!’ lashed Sylvester, stomping his foot on the metal roof of what was once an old yellow school bus. 'You god-damn a*****e.'
‘Never mind.’ Replied Ozzy, grinning as he lit the end of a crooked cigarette he had pulled from his back pocket.

There were two silhouettes moving off in the distance, too small to discern but getting closer. Ozzy recognized the playful movements, but knew Sylvester was too drunk to notice. As they got closer, Ozzy dusted off the chair next to his and waited.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ exhaled Mina, struggling to catch her breath. ‘Had to lock up tonight.’ She sat in the open chair next to Ozzy.
‘Conner insisted on coming with.’ She motioned towards her little brother who was stomping on a troop of marching black ants.
‘Where is Sylvester?’ she asked.
Ozzy smirked and pointed upwards. Mina rolled her eyes and shook her head. He offered his bottle to her and she accepted, gulping the beverage and wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

Conner, now bored with the ants, had started throwing stones up at where Sylvester had passed out. The echoed clanking of the stones had woken Sylvester up and as he raised his head to investigate, a well-aimed shot clouted him square between the eyes. He rolled backwards in pain and fell straight off his perch, landing face first in the dirt below. After what seemed like minutes of agonised contemplation, he staggered to his feet, only half aware of what had just happened. He saw Conner cowering behind Mina and eventually pieced it together.

‘I am gonna kill you, you little b*****d!’ He lunged towards Conner but suddenly came crashing to the ground once more, tripping over his own feet.
‘Calm down brother.’ insisted Ozzy, ‘Have another Drink.’
Sylvester recovered himself and trudged off to inside the bus. He emerged a few seconds later, a cigarette hanging from his mouth and an old, salvaged army helmet on his head.
'Prevention versus cure and all that' he said towards puzzled looks, tapping the helmet with a curled knuckle.‘What is it with you guys and throwing rocks anyway?’