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Last night might have started as a joke or Ed’s whim. But this is real.
“Yes.”
I don’t tell her that my brothers were just downstairs, almost confessing their itch to fuck her, even though they were trying to be subtle about it. I don’t tell her about our hunger, our need to hunt. That’s how we’ve survived up here all these years. Except this time, she is our prey.
“We’ll be more than happy to.” With that, I leave the room, stopping only when I’m a couple of stairs down, hoping that Susan pays heed to my words.
7
OLLIE
“I’m bored,” I announce, plopping down next to Ed. He’s fiddling with his harmonica. He’s always fiddling with it, never actually playing it. “Can we turn on the TV? The generator will be able to carry the load. I have some pre-saved games we can catch up on.”
“We need the generator for other things besides watching TV,” Ed says. “So, no.”
“Like what exactly?” I ask.
“Oh, I don’t know, like the fucking central heating. We don’t know how long we’re stuck up here. And if we run out of fuel, we’ll freeze to death.”
“And if that goes down, I volunteer to use my naked body to heat up Susan’s,” I say with a grin. This earns me a glare from Ed, and Artie shakes his head.
“What? Have you guys not heard of the concept?” I ask.
“I’m familiar with it,” Artie says. “And you don’t get to do it alone.”
“Why?” I ask. “Do you want to be there as well?”
In answer, Artie all but huffs.
“Can I at least have the batteries for the radio?” I ask. “I know one of you guys hid them last time.”
“Why? So you can blast NPR and drive us both insane?” Artie says.
“That’s the plan,” I say.
“No thanks.”
“I thought you wanted me to be more aware of my surroundings and read a little,” I say, doing air quotes.
“Yeah and by that I meant picking up a newspaper or a book here and there,” Ed says.
Artie rolls his eyes. “You’re hopeless.”
“I’ll need those batteries,” I say, leaning back on the chair. “Unless you’re saving them for something more important, like Susan’s dildo.”
“What?” Ed says, looking up at me.
“Jesus Christ, don’t tell me you actually went through her luggage?” Artie says. “We know you have a problem—”
I cut him off. “Shut up, asshole. I didn’t go through her luggage. She’s been cooped up in your room the whole day. When would I even do that? I just meant that lady writes sex for a living. She must have one, for the experience or whatever.”
Artie, who’s sipping on his coffee, chokes.
I frown. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he says.
“I don’t care about her dildo,” Ed says, turning back to his harmonica.
