Fixer-Upper

Flickering light illuminated the otherwise dark workshop. The Moniker was set on autopilot on route between the Trax Convections, giving them a break from General Tillman. That man could not give them one moment of peace, could he? Weasel shook his head and coughed as dust particles swarmed him, but he couldn’t seem to clear his lungs, no matter what. He took another deep breath- He couldn’t.

He couldn’t. He couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t-

“El- Elmer… hhhelp…” Wheezing, he grabbed for the other man that was turned towards the working bench, tinkering away at that broken battery.

“Hm? What’s got you in a- shit what’s wrong? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” He dropped his tools immediately to hold Weasel by the shoulders, scanning him up and down.

“My-“, a cough rattled through Weasel’s body, “my ventilator.”

Elmer’s hands shot up to Weasel’s neck where the mechanical device sat. The filter was malfunctioning; oxygen conducts closed up. Weasel would suffocate. “Shit shit shit, okay, hold on, I’ll fix you up.” “Hhhh…urry…” The display on the device blinked in blaring red.

Only 4 minutes left. Focus.

Unscrew the lid. Lift the main gear. Wires out of the way. Weasel shuddered and gasped for air. 3 minutes.

Avoid the solenoid valve. Get the main cylinder out. There. The filter was looking anything but healthy. As was Weasel. His eyes widened as his vision became blurry. 2 minutes.

“Pl…eas…e…” “Almost there, buddy, almost.” Elmer let go with one hand to grab for a spare filter from the working bench. Metal plates, bolts and nails clattered onto the dirty, dusty floor. Both shuffled towards a chair Weasel dropped into.

60 seconds.

Tweezers. Get this filter out. 45 seconds. Avoid the valve. 30 seconds. New filter. Cylinder. Screw. Gear. Lid.

The display fades to blue again. The count-down stopped at 15 seconds.

Weasel sucked in a deep breath. Coughing and wheezing, he held onto Elmer, his body sagging in relief. “Holy shit.”

“You’re telling me.”

He reached for his pill box, shivering. “… Remind me to never forget repair day again.”

A soft chuckle. “Already added to the calendar.”