Page 23 of Apricity
I set out the filtered mugs, dry creamer and sugar for the boys while I prepare Aly’s cup, mixing in her preferred amount of sugar and creamer before moving to the window.
Thankfully, we didn’t see any more of the infected after last night. There was only the one Hawk got while we were setting traps, and then the one I downed during our mud play last night, but there could always be more. We haven’tseen the horde since we threw ourselves at this place after the estate went up in smoke but that doesn’t mean they’re not out there, waiting.
We’ve only seen them in small units lately. Nothing crazy. Nothing we can’t take care of. Although we prepare for potential encounters whenever we leave the bungalow, bringing weapons with us everywhere we go, the anticipation of a large-scale horde is always on the edge of my mind. And if it’s onmine, I know it’s on Hawk’s and Jax’s. Probably Aly’s as well.
Jax seems to be doing a little bit better ever since I convinced him to delegate his list of tasks to us. He’s no longer holding all the responsibility on his own shoulders, but I see it still. The little bits in the corners of his eyes. The tightness of his shoulders. He’s on alert. Especially after what happened last night. Maybe more so than I’ve seen him get in a while.
Hawk isn’t doing much better from the looks of it. Something’s off. It’s as if being the fancy-free spirit we’ve known him to be is taking its toll. He’s about to crack. I can feel it in my bones.
Aly hops up from the floor where everyone is playing Scrabble next to the fire. She shakes her cute butt as she makes her way over to where she knows I’m hiding her cup- in my left hand, keeping it warm for her. She happily takes it, kissing my cheek before snuggling under my arm for a moment.
It’ll be a cold day in hell when we run out of coffee. I think Aly will personally enact a vendetta when the time comes, killing everything and anything in her path in order to find some more. Luckily, Jax still has a bunch in reserveand his stove is gas-powered, hooked up to his propane tank outside that somehow miraculously made it through the hurricane.
Now, I’m not about to go questioning the will of any higher power, but that was happily unexpected. Probability and statistics these days are an absolute bitch. Especially when you consider the pile of steaming horse shit the world has turned into. The fates might’ve taken a lot but at least they left us with this luxury and the ability to tame the beast that is Aly without her morningspicy bean juice.
She smiles up at me and I lean down, unable to keep away from our gorgeous girl. I kiss her nose before swatting a hand across her butt, just because I can and because she loves it when I do. A giggling yelp escapes her but she calms as she focuses outside.
“Is that frost?” she asks.
The temperature has dropped exponentially since we arrived here about a month ago. While it won’t get so cold that we have to worry about stuff freezing, it can, occasionally, get cold enough to get snow. It’s not expected to have a flurry here in North Carolina, but it isn’t uncommon.
“Yes, ma’am. Might even get cold enough to snow soon.”
Aly’s breath catches. “Do you really think so?”
“Anything’s possible.”
“It’s gotta be, like, late November, right?”
I tilt my head in thought. Late November sounds about right. When everything went to hell in a hand basket, keeping track of dates was the last thing on my mind. Surviving? Yes. Days of the week? Not so much. But Idoknow someone thatwouldknow the exact date cause he’s the epitome of a fucking boy scout.
I turn to ask Jax but find him arguing animatedly with Hawk.
“It’s a perfectly acceptable word,” Hawk says, crossing his arms and tilting his chin up.
“Queefis not a real word,” Jax replies, shaking his head in frustration.
“It sure as fuck is.”
“It’s slang, you douche.”
“But itisa real word… ass.”
“It needs to be in the dictionary to be considered.” Jax lifts the dictionary he’s been using as a reference the entire game. He’s always been a stickler about rules, so of course he’d have that thing handy during a game of Scrabble.
“Itisin the dictionary.”
“Theactualfucking dictionary. Merriam. Webster. A legitimate dictionary. Not the fucking Urban Dictionary.”
“Hey Jax!” I call out.
Both Jax and Hawk pause their debate and look over their shoulders to where Aly and I are still standing at the window. As they turn, however, Jax decides to take advantage of their positions and smacks Hawk playfully on the back of the head with the dictionary. I swear they’re like children sometimes.
“Ah, what the hell?”
“Truth hurts.” Jax smiles before nodding at us. “What’s up?”
“What day is it?”
