✔ A Minute in Heaven || Wattys 2017

Chapter Four - Fixing Planes and Planning Ahead

(Are you able to read this full chapter, or is it just me?)

Maybe he's right.

...

My day went by rather smoothly.

Alfred stayed at home, offering to help Katyushka and Natalia with cleaning up, while I went to work. It wasn't easy - I repaired any kind of technology or machinery - but it was fun, and larger machines or bigger breaks paid well.

I decided to take the detour home again, wondering if I'd find Alfred by the junkyard again. The clanking of metal confirmed my suspicions. Sure enough, there was Alfred, dragging parts out of the metal heap with his bare hands.

"Privet, Alfred!" I called out to him.

Alfred must not have heard me coming, because he gave a loud shout and tumbled down from the metal heap again.

"We've really gotta stop meeting like this," Alfred groaned. I handed him his glasses, which he wiped off and put back on.

"Ah, spasibo," Alfred sighed with relief. "Am I saying that correctly?"

"Da," I replied. Alfred nodded quickly.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, wondering why Alfred would search for airplane parts in a junkyard, of all places.

"Honestly?" Alfred said. "I'm really just looking for some scrap metal. Belle's fuselage needs some fixing up. I'm trying to reinforce it before my next leg."

"I would expect that they might be worn out," I said, "considering that you flew over the Pacific Ocean without stopping, da?"

"True," Alfred said as he began to scale the heap again. "But hey, you try making repairs like that in midair. I'm not risking that again."

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes.

"Well, maybe you should have made some stops," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Then, you would not need to go to such drastic measures."

"And risk losing my way, touching down on uncharted territory?" Alfred retorted. "What, you think I'm some kind of moron?"

I didn't say what I wanted to tell him. We stared each other down, neither one of us wanting to give in, until we both started to laugh.

"Americans," I murmured.

"Crazy old man," Alfred shot back.

"I am not old," I insisted. I wasn't.

"Whatever," Alfred said playfully. "Come on. You're strong, right? Gimme a hand with this piece."

Alfred tugged on a large, thick sheet of scrap metal, and eventually managed to pry it free. It didn't look like he needed much help, as it looked rather lightweight with how fast he was pulling it, but I took one end anyways.

"Where are you taking this?" I asked.

"Just trust me," Alfred smirked. He shifted his grip on the metal, and we soon left the junkyard behind.

After a good ten minutes of hiking, Alfred stopped in front of a very large, derelict building. I was puzzled at first, but I assumed that this was where Alfred had landed Liberty Belle.

I was right.

The building had been almost completely hollowed out, and with the roof caving in so badly that there was hardly any roof left, it was more than enough room for a plane to land. That explained why Alfred had set Liberty Belle down here. It was quite a charming piece of machinery, a robustly built biplane with the name Liberty Belle painted in brilliant blue and white lettering on the body. The fuselage, especially the top, definitely seemed in need of repair, Alfred was right about that.