“I’ll tell Seth to pick out his dress.”
Standing, I scoop her smartass up and carry her to the head of the bed while she squeals. I toss her down and then rip off my shirt before diving on top of her. Aurelia is still trying to untangle herself from the sheets when I begin tickling her sides. “What was that shit you was talking?”
“I’m sorry!” she screams as she twists and turns and contorts her body while laughing uncontrollably.
“What?”
“I said I’m sorry!”
“Nah, I can’t hear you. You’re what?”
“I’m sorry!”
“Not good enough. Say you’ll marry me and maybe I’ll stop.”
“Are you crazy?” I tickle her ribs a little harder, and she damn near breaks her back trying to get away from me. “Okay, okay! I’ll marry you! I’ll marry you!”
Lifting my hands from her body, I lean over and kiss her forehead while she shyly peeks up at me from underneath the twisted sheets covering her nose and lower face. “Glad to hear it,” I say as I join her on the bed. “It’s a date, Goldilocks.”
I stare at the table full of weapons and wonder if it will be enough. Normally, this time of year, we’d be prepping for the winter by canning, stocking up on nonperishables, resealing any drafts, insulating the pipes, emptying the septic tank, and filling the water tank…among other things.
Instead, we’re counting bullets and arrows and making bombs.
We even let Seth near the flamethrower we hid.
He’s fiddling with it now, and Thorin keeps casting nervous glances at him. We still don’t know which of us he tried to set on fire that day. Heclaimsit was an accident, which we know is a goddamn lie.
I don’t point out the fact that this is all pointless. It’s not as if we can bring any of this with us back to the States, not without a whole lot of red tape and paperwork when the key to succeeding is to stay under the radar. Besides, most of the shit here is illegal as fuck. I don’t point it out for the same reason none of the others do. Preparation makes us feel better. It makes us believe we actually stand a chance.
“We’ve got enough bullets here to start our own army,” Aurelia says as she sits back with her feet propped up and pretends to help. She’s already restrung her bow and counted and organized all of the ammunition twice. “I’ve even got a few ideas for a name. Aurelia’s Awesome Army. The Triple As. The Aurelites.”
“You never miss an opportunity to toot your own horn, do you?” I ask as I wipe down the barrel of a shotgun. Thinkingabout it, I pause my cleaning to stand from my seat next to Thorin and move to the opposite end of the table.
Aurelia’s gaze shifts to my face once I’m seated and then becomes unfocused as she stares at me for a few seconds like she’s thinking. “The Aurelians.”
“The answer,” Thorin says with a chuckle, “isno. She doesn’t. And she doesn’t give a damn.”
A plume of fire suddenly shoots out over the table, and I quickly drag Aurelia down with me who shrieks as Thorin and I duck under the table.
“Shit, shit. Sorry, sorry,” Seth says as he releases the trigger and the flame winks out.
“Goddamn it, Seth!” Thorin shouts as he stands and storms over to the fire extinguisher to put out the curtains hanging over the back door’s window.
“All right. That time it was definitely aimed at you,” I say to Thor as I reclaim my seat. When he looks at me, I point to his shirtsleeve that’s on fire.
Seeing it, he curses as he rips off his shirt and throws it in the sink before running water over it. Aurelia giggles and then throws a hand over her mouth when Thorin sends her a dirty look.
“That’s your own fault,” I tell him. “You should know better than to insult her in front of Seth.”
Thorin’s eyes widen. “It wasn’t an insult, and you’re the one who brought it up!”
I lift a brow. “Why do you think I switched seats?”
Seth winks at Aurelia, Thorin scoffs, and I shake my head as I go back to cleaning the weapons. Thorin shoves the back of Seth’s head as he passes to return to his charred seat, and Seth pops the top on a cool beer before sliding it down the table toward him. Thor accepts without hesitation and then tips his beer to Aurelia who blushes prettily.
I spend a minute searching for a word to define our group’s unique dynamic until I finally arrive on the perfect one: dysfunctional.
My gaze travels around the table as everyone goes back to their contented silence and individual tasks.
