"Different kinds of hunger" ~for the Short Affair Challenge

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

-Prompt Word #1 - Queasy

-Prompt Colour – Pink

Author: mrua7

Title: Different kinds of hunger

Word count: approximately 950

Kuryakin was feeling more than queasy now as his stomach had a sharp pain in it. He hadn’t eaten in nearly two days and given his higher metabolism that was going to cause him a problem. It wouldn’t be soon before his body would begin shutting down, lacking the energy to continue the assigned task.

Granted it was a task that he was being unwillingly put to by his captors. Digging a ditch in the hot noonday sun was taking its toll as well, burning Illya’s skin a bright shade of pink, though at least the straw hat he had been given covered his face, it was his arms and chest that were exposed.

He was soaked with sweat, and removing his hat to fan himself for a moment revealed his blond hair plastered down to his head.  He had several day’s growth of beard, and that was itching to no end.

“Bzzzzzz-bzzzzzzz.” He swatted away a green fly that was determined to land on him.

“YOU! Back to work!” A wicked bullwhip cracked next to the Russian’s head.

“May I have water sir?” Illya asked with all the contriteness he could muster.

The overseer, Da Silva...a big man with a thick black handlebar moustache, wiped the sweat from his forehead with his handkerchief. He waved a waterboy over to the Russian; it wouldn’t do to have his work crew die of thirst in the middle of a job.

There were plenty of other ways they could die and saw no need to add to the list of what could already take them; malaria, dysentery, malnutrition, exhaustion, snakes, jungle cats...the list could go on and on.

“This one,” he thought, “the one with the yellow hair would not last very long.” Why the bosses had dumped him off here, Da Silva couldn’t understand; they should have shot the runt and had done with him.

Still, he was told to make the blonde suffer as he was caught stealing something of importance.

This one was slowing down and was too skinny. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of fat on his body to live off; having had his rations taken away as punishment wasn’t helping. However, he had a belligerent attitude and needed to be taught a lesson. Next time he got out of line, he would feel the kiss of the whip as punishment.

“Today I will let him eat, why lose another worker? Once the job was done the weaklings would be disposed of anyway,” Da Silva reasoned,”to hell with making the gringo suffer.” It was too hot to spend time and energy on that. What the bosses didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

Illya quickly took the gourd of water offered to him and gulped it down.  Without having to ask, the boy dipped it in his bucket and gave him one more drink before the overseer would notice.

“Thank you,” the Russian mouthed, as no talking was allowed.

A hours later the signal for the end of the workday was given, and the men, limping along in their ankle chains, shuffled back to their makeshift prison.

They fell to the ground in their hut moaning and sighing, but became utterly silent as soon as the overseer stepped inside, a ring of keys jangling from his belt. He was accompanied by the waterboy who now carried a bucket of mush.

Each prisoner dutifully raised their coarse wooden bowls and were given a ladleful of the slimy stuff. That was supper and the last time they had it was breakfast, nearly ten hours ago….everyone except Illya.

When it came to Kuryakin, he held his bowl up in supplication, expecting to be passed by again but this time he was given not one ladle of mush, but two.

“Can’t have you dying off just yet blondie,” the overseer remarked.

“No you cannot,”Illya chose that exact moment to dive at the man, smashing the lip wooden bowl against his throat. Da Silva’s larynx was crushed as blood spewed everywhere. Kuryakin didn’t need help finishing the deed, as the others took over, beating the overseer to death in silence.

Illya grabbed the keys, freeing them all from their shackles, and once the sun went down, they silently tiptoed out. Staying along the crude stockade fencing, making  their way to the gate; they overpowered the single guard there and opened it; disappeared into the darkness and their freedom.

There was minimal security as the captors believed the prisoners had been beaten and starved into submission, and their chains made escape impossible. Thanks to one skinny Russian, that was proven to be untrue.

Once having made it out of the jungle he was able to get to a telephone at a nearby trading post and call for an extraction.

Two weeks later, Illya Kuryakin sat at his desk in New York, having fully recovered from his ordeal. Napoleon walked into the room, flashing his customary smile to his partner.

“Just about lunch time, you hungry?”

Illya rolled his eyes with a sigh. “You realize that question is an oxymoron when it comes to me.”

“True, you not being hungry is like me not chasing after women isn’t it?”

“I suppose that is an apt comparison. Though I need food to live where as you do not need sex for the same reason.”

“Hey speak for yourself tovarisch. They’re both involve hunger, just for different things.”

Kuryakin did a second eye roll: one of many he suspected would most likely follow throughout the day as Napoleon was in rare form.

Comments

[otherhawk.livejournal.com]

Well, that's what you get for underestimating Illya. Good story, the descriptions of the labour camp, and Illya's hunger, were very vivid.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I wanted it to be dramatic but not too intense, I think the ending lightened it up a bit...I hope.

[jantojones.livejournal.com]

Even half starved and weak, Illya is a formidable man. I believe chasing after women is as vital to Napoleon as breathing is. He would be a diminished man without it. Great story.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

They both have their foibles don't they? Glad you liked the story. This was another one I wasn't quite sure about.

[lindafishes8.livejournal.com]

Silly of Napoleon to ask Illya if he's hungry, wasn't it?

Your descriptions of how the heat effected IK and the overseer had me sweating as well. And I certainly felt for his sunburned skin.

Good job!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Partly inspired by a slight sunburn I got at the flea market on Saturday, though I make IK's worse.

Thank you!!!

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

Heat, thirst and hunger.  Illya needs some TLC, soon.

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

He does. Poor guy got some pretty rough treatment in the Short Affairs today.

thanks for reading and commenting! Sleep well!