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The air was muggy and warm as I sat in the car, my little brother loading the moonshine into the vehicle. The leaves of our little willow tree swayed softly in the wind. “Keith, hurry up," I hissed at him, "I heard over the radio that there are some dry agents in the area." I hoped he would heed my warning, but the damned kid never listens to me. Just as I was about to shout at him again, I spotted a car coming down the dirt road. At first, I assumed it was John, but then I saw who was in the vehicle. Luckily, Keith was hopping into the car with me. I floored it the moment that Keith was safely seated in the car; the kid may annoy me, but he's still my little brother.
Dirt kicked up as we sped off down the secret road that had been so diligently hidden this morning by Dad. I will never stop being thankful to that old man. Unfortunately for us, those dry agents spotted us speeding off down the trail, and they were now hot on our tail. "Keith, grab the Tommy gun, it's behind my seat," I said quickly to Keith. Luckily, the kid actually listened to me, and he quickly grabbed the gun. A volley of rounds rang out as we sped down the road, leaving my ears ringing. The dry agents responded in kind as a few bullets tore past me; I could feel the whoosh of wind as they rushed by my face.
I had to keep focused and calm, my brother's life depended on it. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I heard a pained scream tear from my brother's throat. I didn't dare look at him, I knew he looked bad. A dark red stain was likely already spreading across his light blue shirt. “Get down and keep pressure on the wound," I said, my voice cracking towards the end. I could feel the harsh sting of tears as we sped down the dirt road. “And for God's sake, stay alive, please.” I whispered, more to myself than anything else. I couldn't look at him, not now, for if I did I knew those soft blue eyes would haunt me for the rest of my days. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my little brother, but here we were, barreling down a dirt road, and he was bleeding out beside me.
After a couple of tense minutes passed and we eventually reached the outskirts of Chicago. A group of men were already there to collect the moonshine from us. A few of them paused when they saw the state of my brother and I, but they didn't seem to question it; this job was dangerous, and this was bound to happen unfortunately. They unloaded the moonshine and we were on our way. I drove as quickly as I could to the nearest hospital. I pulled up and practically dragged my little brother out of the car; he was barely breathing and practically limp in my arms, his light blue shirt was stained a dark red just as I had thought. He looked terrible. The moment I was through those doors, I was practically swarmed by doctors, all of them asking a million questions that I couldn't answer.
They took him away on a stretcher and for six grueling hours that was the last I saw of him. When they finally let me see him, he still looked terrible but at least he was alive. “He’ll make it but it's going to be a long recovery,” one of the nurses told me, "He's going to need to be kept here for a couple of days, just to be certain that he is recovering well.” She said calmly. I nodded understandingly and sat down on a chair beside his bed. The nurse then left, and I was alone with my little brother. “Charlie?” Keith said quietly, his voice hoarse. "Yeah, it's me, buddy," I said while squeezing his hand softly. “You gave me quite a scare; you'd better not do that again." I said teasingly, just trying to bring a smile to his face. Keith let out a quiet, raspy chuckle. "I'll try not to," he said with a small smile. "I'll be back in an hour roughly, I'm going to go get Ma and Dad,” I told him. "They're going to want to know," I said with a soft sigh.
With that, I stood up with a groan and then left. I went home and informed our mother first; I knew she would be the most upset. It took me a bit longer to track down our dad; he was helping out our grandfather down at the stills. He took it well and he hopped into the car with me to go back up to the hospital. “Hey, I'm here to see Keith Joens; I'm his older brother and that's our dad,” I told the receptionist. He then nodded and had a nurse lead us up to his room. I stepped through the door and there he was, my stupid but adorable little brother. “Charlie.” our father said while clearing his throat. “How are you feeling kiddo..?” He asked hesitantly, "I'm doing okay dad,” Charlie said with a chuckle. “I'm too tough to be killed that easily.” He said with a smirk.