Back to Base Quarters

I squeezed back through the low gap under the barn door, shaking the chilly yard dust off my stubby feet. Waddling back behind the tall burlap sacks, my egg carton bunk was waiting right where I left it, totally secure. I eased my round body into the center cup against the folded blue shop towel cushion. The green twist-tie antenna was still standing upright, pointing toward the dark rafters. I clicked my harness strap against my chin and whispered, 'Uh, Cuh, away team has returned to base quarters, do you copy?' Just quiet static hissed back, like usual. But the sacks block the cold draft, so I settled in.