Lost on You

Chapter 1 - Take a Spiritual Retreat

The sky was clear, the autumn air was crisp, and the sun was bright; it was the absolute perfect day for flying. Dusty Crophopper, former world famous racer turned honorary firefighter, didn't hesitate to enjoy his day off in the sunshine. The same goes for his new girlfriend, Ishani; he had just recently gathered the strength to ask her out, and she just couldn't resist his adorable charm.

"Race you to the water tower!" Ishani called playfully as she dove, Dusty chuckling and following her every move. The two eventually pulled up with graceful twirls in the opposite direction, but quickly met back up again.

"Last one there buys a round at Honkers!" Dusty goaded, diving once more with a sharp flip to gain more speed. He soon came down to the runway with the water tower at the very end, lowering his landing gear and preparing for the headwind.

But just as Dusty landed and came to a halt, the sky suddenly filled with dark and thunderous clouds, flashing with lightning while the wind picked up significantly. It made the headwind even stronger, and Ishani was heading right for it.

"Pull up! Pull up!" Dusty shouted at the top of his lungs, but he was too late. Ishani couldn't pull up in time, making her overpass the runway before losing all control as her altitude dropped. She disappeared over a cornfield, crying out in terror before a loud CRASH could be heard, followed by a fiery explosion.

And then, the largest bolt of lightning jumped out of the sky, striking the crop duster and showing no mercy.

"Dusty, wake up!" Chug screamed while shaking Dusty violently, trying to wake him from the obvious nightmare he was having.

Shaken and afraid, Dusty's icy blue eyes were wide as he inhaled and exhaled; he soon took in his surroundings, realizing he was in his hangar with a very concerned Chug standing beside him.

The firefighter calmed down almost immediately, groaning and clenching his eyes shut, "What time is it?"

"Six," Chug replied.

"In the morning?"

"Yup."

"Great." Dusty growled groggily and crawled out of bed. "Well, there's no way I'm gettin' back to sleep, anyway."

"You've barely gotten four hours of sleep the past couple of nights, Duster. We're worried."

The said former crop duster sighed, "I know. But what're you gonna do?"

With that, Dusty rolled out of his hangar to stretch his wings and start the day earlier than usual, leaving an even more concerned Chug following closely behind.

Dusty ignored him for the most part and rolled into the fire station, punching his time card to clock in, thus starting his shift. But before anything happened enough for him to care, Dusty needed his coffee and fuel, so he headed over to the Chug and Dottie's Fill n' Fly to get his usual java.

"Notice anything wrong lately, Chug?" Dusty asked flatly.

"Nope. Not with you around, Duster," Chug tried to reassure with a chuckle, but he couldn't get the smile he wanted.

"Good."

"Here's your usual, Dusty—black with no cream," Dottie stated as she approached with a cup of fresh hot coffee.

"And I'll get your fuel, Buddy," Chug informed before heading off to fetch his friend's fuel.

"Thanks, Guys," Dusty grimly thanked and took a sip of his coffee, even closing his eyes to savor the energizing taste.

"Dusty, in case you haven't noticed, you're really starting to scare us," Dottie began with a worried expression.

"Because of something I continuously blame myself for," Dusty stated matter-of-factly, gazing at the forklift with a cold stare, "My business and beliefs are my own, Dottie, not yours. So, please, just leave it alone."

The mechanic was silenced at that, but she was thankful that Chug returned soon after to fuel Dusty and spare her the awkward tension. But even so, neither of them had a thing to say, and Chug and Dottie knew their efforts to comfort their friend were all for not by now.

"Mornin', Employee of the Month!" Mayday called cheerfully as he approached the station, hoping to use his kooky old codger quirks as an excuse to badger Dusty about getting happy again.

"No offense, Mayday, but with us being the only two firefighters and you being an old man, the honor was always going to go to me, anyway," Dusty grimly pointed out, taking a much larger sip.

"Ah, that may be true, but I just like ta remind ya for the sake of your sanity."

Dusty finally averted his gaze from oblivion and looked at the old fire truck, "Well, last I checked, my sanity is just fine."

The former racer then grabbed his coffee once Chug was finished refueling him, and headed for the fire station to wait and listen for any emergencies. As he left, the others just couldn't help but feel terrible for him; Dusty used to be so full of life and spirit, and he had an adventurous attitude that wasn't afraid of anything. Now, he seemed like an empty shell.

Frankly, the only one who could ever get through to him was Skipper, but the said old war plane had passed away nearly two years ago. Hope seemed lost for poor Dusty.

After a long and uneventful day, Dusty felt compelled to spice it up a bit and numb his sorrows with some beer and country music at Honkers. Though he hardly visited, he always sat alone when he did.

"'Nother round, Hun?" a kind female forklift asked while holding out a platter of gasses of beer, a sweet Southern twang rolling off of her tongue.

"Thanks," Dusty muttered and grabbed a glass, not hesitating to take a big swig of his second glass.

Being known as the "Silent Firefighter" of Propwash Junction, most of the waiters and waitresses felt too embarrassed to serve Dusty, but this forklift always volunteered to because she sensed his troubled nature.

"You wanna talk about it?" she asked knowingly and set the platter down.

"I couldn't. You've got drunken reprobates to serve," Dusty protested dryly.

"Yes, but I've also got a conscious to keep clean. So, if you would…"

The firefighter scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Just because I'm not who I used to be, doesn't mean I need your concern."

"Well, Hun, not everyone's lost someone like you."

Dusty slammed his glass of beer down, glaring at the forklift and speaking with a hissing tone, "I know."

The airplane then laid what money he owed for the drinks on the table, and left in a hurry. The forklift instantly felt much worse, knowing she had crossed a line. But to go after him was foolish, so she merely took the money and continued her shift.

Meanwhile, as soon as Dusty left the building, he was stopped by his sheepishly smiling friends, Chug and Dottie. He already knew what was coming.

"Wipe the smiles off your faces, Guys. I'm too tired for your pity," Dusty growled and drove around them.

"We know you're over our constant hovering, Dusty, but-," Dottie tried as she and Chug followed closely, but the latter interrupted her.

"We've finally come up with something that'll be sure ta make you feel better," the fuel truck added in excitement.

And though he didn't stop, Dusty looked back at them in interest, "Oh, really?"

"Mayday did a little research, and he found out that you're allowed to have a paid vacation," Dottie explained before Chug once again continued for her.

"So, we figured you should take one now, and we even made some arrangements for your stay."

"Is there no other way for you guys to show your remorse, or can you at least give up?"

"Nope," the two replied in unison.

Sighing heavily in defeat, Dusty stopped and looked up in exasperation, "If this will get you guys to leave me alone, then fine. Just tell me where you're sending me."

"We rented out an awesome room for you down at the Grand Fusel Lodge," Dottie informed.

"It's a spiritual retreat ta Piston Peak National Park, Baby!" Chug shouted in ecstasy.

In case you couldn't already tell, this story and its title is inspired by LP's "Lost on You." Very good song, make sure to listen to it at some point.

Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!