April Chatterbox : travel-by-foot

I decided rather late in the game to attempt a Camp Nanowrimo project – with a manageable goal of 20,000 words and a fairly simple WWII plot I thought it would be an easy task. Wrong. I have no idea how people can churn out 50,000 words in a month, cause I’ve been scratching and clawing for less than half that. But anyway. Halfway through, my main character breaks his leg parachuting, so I couldn’t help but give a sinister giggle when I saw the April Chatterbox topic from The Inkpen Authoress. :) Terrible of me I know, but the irony struck me as quite funny.
Apologies in advance if it comes across as rather jumbly and confusing; this is towards the end and I find myself with lots of loose threads.

(source)

The hospital door cracked open furtively, revealing the stocky frame of Captain Sam Maynard.
“Hi there, Lieutenant,” he addressed his convalescing co-pilot. Leo Rossetti pushed himself up in his bed before casting a sly glance about the infirmary.
“How’d you slip past old ironsides?” he finally queried.
“It wasn’t easy, believe me. Miller ran interference; caught her coming from the mess hall. I bet he’s still gabbing her ear off.” Maynard’s grumpy expression lightened as he recalled the lad’s clumsy efforts to detain the head nurse.
“Uh, Captain.”
“What?” returned the Texan, breaking off a chuckle. With a  hapless grin, Rossetti pointed to the doorway.
“Good morning Captain Maynard,” greeted the brunette nurse, her green eyes flashing.
“Boy that kid can’t get anything right,” muttered Maynard, with a shake of his head. “Honest Miss Cabot, I’d never try to usurp your authority or anything. So, I’m gonna come right out and ask. Like I was going to all along,” he added hastily. Her right eyebrow arched.
“Well?”
“I’d like to take Rossetti here for a walk. If you say it’s alright of course.” Nurse Cabot glared at both conspirators before releasing the invalid with a sigh and her permission.
“Just promise me you won’t break his other leg?” she requested coolly. “And not too long of a walk either.”
“Oh certainly, ma’am,” he assured, helping Rossetti to his feet. “There now.” Maynard eased Rossetti and his crutches through the door. With a parting, ‘sunlight does wonders, you know’ to the frowning nurse, he pointed Rossetti toward the hangars.
“Say Sam,” Rossetti hung back, leaning heavily on his crutches. “Is this walk really just a jaunt in the country or does it have a purpose? Cause if it doesn’t I’m going right back into that bed.”
“You better believe it has purpose,” he replied, giving Rossetti an appraising glance. “Here, we’ll take the shortcut through that field over there. That’ll be quicker at least, and we did promise Miss Cabot it wouldn’t be a too long of a walk,” he commented, with only a hint of scorn in his delivery. “Whoa there!” he suddenly exclaimed, as Rossetti swayed wildly into a bush that was more thorn than rose.
“Stupid gophers,” he muttered, as Maynard plucked him from peril. “Are we nearly there yet, Captain?” he pleaded, his crutches sinking divots into the soft earth as they hurried along. Maynard slowed down with a disparaging glance at Rossetti’s grass stained slippers and muddy robe.
“That Cabot girl’ll never speak to me again,” he sighed, directing Rossetti around the edge of a steel hanger. “Here we are,” he finally murmured, pointing admiringly to the broad frame of a lone bomber, her wings glistening in the sunlight. “She’s all ours. Secondhand, but ours. Come on, take a closer look,” he advised needlessly, as Rossetti was already hobbling towards it. He circled it twice. Sure, the old bird had her patches and repairs, but she was solid.
“You’re gonna have the whole crew back on?”
“Yup,” Maynard answered. “Kotts with his busted arm, Stewart with the shrapnel in his back, and now you, with that bum leg.”
“Now don’t you worry yourself about my leg, it’ll be just fine in another few weeks or so. Will this be the second Doris Mae?” he casually asked, as pilot and co-pilot gazed favorably at the rugged bomber.
“Nah, I already made that mistake once before.” Maynard stared long at Rossetti’s crutch and the overhauled plane before cracking a grin on his weathered face. “How about the Comeback Kid?”

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