“Where in the hell have you been?!” Benny the radio host. remarks towards a colleague.

The man he jeers at is much more refined than the often-crass radio host.

“I’ve been asleep. I wasn’t aware you’d left town.”

The British accent only adds to his refined attitude.

“Wasn’t awar- You didn’t notice the equipment was gone?!

That you haven’t been on the show?! C’mon that’s bull!”

“Alright, alright. I’m sorry.

Sheesh, you’re awfully prickly today, aren't ya?”

“Yeah well, Samantha left me.”

“I…”

The Welsh co-host freezes up. His throat dries, feeling a

hot flash of embarrassment.

“It's fine, listen Binny, you think you could host for a few days?

Let me get some rest?”

Binny grabs the headphones,

"Alright!"

As Benny passes out on the table, Binny begins adjusting his setup. He looks around, getting a good look of the Cloak camp they're setup at. It's nestled deep in the woods of this small mountain town, with a large fire centered in the middle. Some Cloaks are training with magic, others are studying spell books, and some are preparing for the next event involving Mr. Autumn. Binny presses a button on the laptop. A bright red light in the radio-hosting program flickers on.

“As the days go by, the daylight continues to wane in length. The people of this small town go about their mundane lives, running through the motions as they continue working for the weekend. As the sights of beautiful fall leaves, and cool breezy weather greet us on this fine Friday morning.

You're of course listening to 104.7 Benny in the Bin..."

* * *

"...-and as we wind down here for the night, I think it's

time we kick it up a notch! I, Binny, am proud to present to you...

YOUR CLASSIC ROCK POWER HOUR!!

I look over at the radio, tilting my head.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"Huh... I almost forgot Benny had a co-host?"

""Focus Blake."

I look down at Stevie, panicking as I readjust my grip on the engine block. I'd almost forgotten I was holding onto it. I feel a droplet of sweat rush down my forehead. The itching is unbearable, and it’s all I can do to let go to wipe it. Unfortunately, if I move my hands at all this huge metal engine will fall right onto Stevie’s face.

“C’mon Blake, just a little longer!” Stevie’s optimistic voice grunts from below. He’s installing a new transmission for Comby, and I have been tasked with holding the engine in place during the procedure. I exhale as my grip loosens further. The pain of holding this rusty engine is unbearable, and my puny biceps feel like they are beginning to slowly tear like paper.

On a positive note, the impact from the engine might just fix his misaligned teeth.

“Stevi-...” I can’t even try to finish my sentence as I groan in pain.

“Got it!” Stevie shouts before scrambling out from under the engine. My eyes are teared up, but I see him already tightening bolts. The engine's weight quickly disappears, and eventually my jelly arms fall to my sides. I can barely lift them now. I’ve got no clue how long I had been holding that thing, but I’m just glad I didn’t kill over in the process.

As Stevie begins checking stuff, I take my shirt and wipe my forehead and eyes. We’re both covered in oil, grime, and sweat. The concrete floor of the shed below us is covered in ripped open cardboard boxes, and plastic packaging, all surrounding the rail buggy.

Comby’s engine now has a new transmission, carburetor, and starter. The bright and shiny chrome parts stick out from the rest of the block of rusted metal.

I lean on the wood counter behind me, exhaling as I struggle to catch my breath.

“Man, how much more do we gotta do to get this buggy fixed?” I ask, ready to be done. It feels like we’ve been going 100 miles per hour since I woke up.

“Oh, quit bein’ a drama queen Blake!” Stevie retorts, wiping his hands on his shirt. I rub my eyes as Stevie climbs into the driver’s seat. He places the key in the ignition and looks up at me.

“Fingers crossed Blake, let’s fire her up.”

I hold my hands up, crossing my fingers as Stevie nods. As he jerks the key on, the engine begins turning- an improvement from last time. The rail buggy shakes as it turns and turns, desperately trying to find the motivation to crank.

As Stevie stops to re-crank it, my eyes catch on to something. The starter is a small clear-blue cylinder on the side of the engine. It's a small motor that helps turn the engine over.

It's also definitely not supposed to smoke.

I try to get Stevie’s attention, but it's too late. Stevie fires up the key again and attempts to crank a second time. At that moment the starter decides it’s a perfect time to now combust into flames.

I panic, but my voice can’t begin to match the sound of Comby’s engine. I wave my arms, grabbing Stevie’s attention. He’s giving me a perplexed look, up until he looks behind and sees part of the engine on fire. Stevie screams in a blind panic, scrambling to get out of the driver’s seat.

“We gotta find somethin’ to put it out!” he screams.

We both begin sprawling through, looking for something. I go to look on the right side of Comby, an area covered with the tarp that once covered the decrepit vehicle. My eyes light up as I see it. Grabbing the tarp, I throw it on top of the engine and begin patting where the fire was. Dust and smoke grow thicker with every pat. I hold my breath, trying desperately not to inhale any of the toxic fumes.

The dark blue tarp here isn’t exactly a fire blanket, but it seems to do the trick as I feel the heat under the tarp fading. The smoke is still here, but thankfully it doesn’t look like it’s coming from the engine anymore. It’s now spread out across the small rectangle of a garage.

I stop patting, looking over at Stevie who coughs, waving the smoke out of his face. He sets a fire extinguisher down, before looking at me.

“Ah-...” Stevie coughs, “Good job Blake.”

I let out a dry chuckle, just relieved that the fire didn’t get worse than it was.

Stevie laughs too, but his face quickly sinks as he catches a sight of the engine. I look over too, and only now notice that the fire has burned through the tarp. It’s now twice as large. I go to stand next to Stevie and get away from the flame, but Stevie has already grabbed the fire extinguisher. I freeze in place as Stevie screams, pulling the trigger.

I hold my hands in front of my face as the extinguisher emits an echoing ‘pshhh...’ sound, and a huge blast of cold white foam comes my way. All I can do is stand here uncomfortably as the foam covers this entire corner of the small garage. The mixture of liquid and foam continues to drench me until the sound dissipates, leaving me freezing and soaked.

As I whip some of the foam off my arms, Stevie rips the tarp off of the engine. He sighs in relief.

“Well, our second starter’s blown, but the engine looks intact!”

I don’t say anything, only awkwardly looking at the engine, then back at Stevie.

“How you doin’ there Frosty?” he asks cheerfully as he pokes my arm.

I sharply exhale, blowing the foam on my mouth out of the way.

“Jolly. Just jolly.”

Stevie chuckles, before throwing me a clean oil towel.

“Well, wipe yourself off, we got a little extra work to do.”

“Can we at least take a break? I’m exhausted.” I plead, feeling gross.

“You can take a break when you’re dead! C’mon now we’ve got at least two more things to put on today.”

I groan, wiping my hands with the towel, “Once more into the fray.”