Duct Tape Fixes (Almost) Everything

Post-Apocalyptic Flash Fiction

“Why won’t the damn thing start?”

“How the hell should I know?”

James sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets and kicking in idle frustration at the dust that caked everything. Lifting his eyes he stared out over the barren expanse, at the gray sky fading to slate at the horizon. The distance shimmered with heat, but he dreaded to think of how cold it was going to get before it was all over with. “You know,” he said, “we shouldn’t have come out here in the first place.”

“It was your idea!”

“I know,” he said mildly. “Just sayin.’” He paused. “Hind sight’s 20/20.”

“Yeah, well, hind sight’s no use to us right now.”

James turned his back on the emptiness that mirrored his soul. Yet a miscarried spark of something vital almost rekindled in him as his gaze fell upon Moira, who was bent over the engine in the mid-day twilight.

“Where’s the duct tape?” she said, not looking up.

“I’ll get it.” James trudged back to the car, sidling up to the trunk to pop it open. Two quarts of motor oil, tire iron, spare ammo, toolbox…he grabbed the tape and carried it to Moira. “Here,” he said.