Page 62 of Hell Breaks Loose

Which is what I am trying to emulate now.

“Duuuude.”

“Tommy-gun. Stop calling everything and everyone dude.” I huff, scooping up another load of wood.

“It’s also an exclamation of wow,” he sighs, flopping back, equal parts dumbass and genius.

“I’m about to wow my foot up your ass.”

“No, you’re not. ’Cause I just fixed the radio.”

“Bullshit.”

“I mean, big-sexy helped.”

“You mean big-sexy—and I suggest that you'd better not let Gavin hear you call him that—got the part, did the work, and you held the flashlight?”

“That’s a gross simplification. Grizzly. Tell her how much I helped.”

“Hmm.” Conn Grizwald. A true enigma.

“Eloquent, as always. I have to assume that grunt also means that Tell participated, leaving Tomlin on ass-watching duty.” I clap the gargantuan troll on the back and return to hauling the wood he’s been chopping all morning. To be clear, he’s the prettiest troll I’ve ever seen, nearly seven feet tall and the weight to match his namesake.

“You’re so cute when you brag about me.” Tomlin grins, swinging back and forth in his hammock.

They definitely win the award for oddest couple in the camp.

Maybe cutest, too.

“Clive! Got another group of refs coming in. Where should we put ‘em?” Myra hollers from the bottom of the hill.

“Dammit,” I hiss, dumping the load of wood onto the hand wagon, “Where’s Roller and Rook? They’re supposed to be doing bunks and assignments.”

“Nah, I heard JoJo talking about them all going fishing earlier.”

“Fucking lazy?—”

“Just the messenger, Boss.” She waves a hand and heads back toward the center of town.

That’s what I’ve started calling it, anyway.

This is the stuff that is wearing me thin. Running a town with limited resources is one thing. When you are supposed to have enough people, family, most of them, you’re supposed to be able to rely on them to help run the show.

Grandpa never warned me about this.

About turnover, attrition. But I see it in retrospect, how he held the crew together with loyalty, purpose, a firm hand.

He was gracious. He was also hard as nails.

“Tommy-gun, where’s Gav and Tell?”

“Why would I know?”

“Because you’ve been drooling over them both since they got here.”

“Learning. The word you’re looking for is learning.”

“Hmm.” Grizz sniffs, working worlds of meaning into a veritable harrumph.

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