Page 2 of Selah's Wish

“Snowball fight!” Nitro roars as he rushes at the girls with two handfuls of packed snow in his hands.

The girls all squeal simultaneously, running behind trees to take cover.

We’ve built four snowmen, and my hair is soaking wet due to the angels we laid down and brushed with our bodies. Thankfully, I had the forethought to tuck extra knitted toboggans I bought online for a steal in my pockets to exchange dry ones for wet ones.

Out of the corner of my peripheral I notice Butcher, Wrecker, Striker, and Prowler sneaking up behind Nitro, each one with three to four snowballs of their own clutched in their palms. A small grin grows on my face when I see what they’re up to.

Nitro is good with the girls. However, he also needs to have some male bonding and these guys always step up to the plate. They spend time with our girls too, but there are times when roughhousing is called into play, and then there are times when playtime requires a more gentle touch. To the outside world these men are outlaws who are brash and rude, but to us, their family, they’re our heartbeat, lifeline, and saviors. They alwayshave been and always will be one thing for each of the women they’ve put their life on the line for—our salvation.

ONE

Butcher

Stealthily sneaking up behind Nitro,each one of us guys pull our arms back, aim, and release the snowballs in our grips. None of the four of us miss our target, causing Nitro to shift on his feet and turn to face us, utter shock painted on his face.

“This means war!” he shouts pointing his finger accusingly toward us, his battle cry heard like thunder throughout our proximity. The girls join in on his declaration, each one of them gathering their own pile of snow and packing it into a ball.

“You little hellions are going to gang up on us?” Prowler asks, sounding aghast but I can see the twitch of his lips as he conceals his smile.

“We’ll always protect our brother,” Faye declares, growling at us with her teeth showing. She crouches down low, taking us in, choosing her opponent.

“Ut oh, Butcher. You not feeding your kids enough, man? I think Faye’s protein deprived. She looks like she wants to take a chomp out of our asses,” Striker teases.

“Fresh meat,” Amelia sings, snarling, mirroring her sister’s battle stance.

Selah stands up, clapping her hands. “War has been declared, gentlemen. You each have three minutes to gather your weapons and either accept the challenge or wave a white flag and surrender. Time begins now.”

With a giddy round of laughter, the kids all stoop down and begin making their weapons. The guys and I all glance at each other and stretch low, raking up as much snow as we can and creating snowballs ourselves—the bigger the better.

In the last year, we haven’t had a lot of opportunity to spend as much time with the kids as I’d have liked. We’re making plans on how to reclaim our territory and our home from the alphabets of law enforcement. So times like this have become paramount toward my relationship with my son and daughters.

When we meet in the middle, after Selah calls time, I ask my children in a taunting manner, “Are you sure y’all wanna take us on? We’ve been doing this a lot longer than the four of you have.”

“Bring it, old man,” Hannah challenges.

“You may be more experienced than we are, but we’re younger and are faster than you are,” Amelia says with a smirk on her face.

“Yeah. Our bones don’t ache like y’all’s do,” Nitro adds, snickering.

“Hey! Not cool, little man,” Prowler sniffles. “That was one time!”

“One time that lasted a month,” Faye counters. “I can’t move one more box, my knees are aching. What’s up with all this snow anyway?” She parrots his words used on the day last winter when we finally got our homes up and moving day came about. Our things were taken out of storage and the plethora of boxes were brought to us.

“That’s low, little girl,” Prowler growls.

I’ll never forget the day Selah came rushing into the room shouting that all of our belongings had been tossed on the street like garbage in front of our clubhouse. After we’d tossed our cuts at the agents’ feet, we took off and didn’t stop long enough to think about our belongings. Luckily, the town found out about what had been done to our possessions and they rallied the troops.

Trucks showed up in abundance before we had the chance to pick up the phone and reach out to some of our allies to ask for assistance. They neatly packed our things into boxes and seal-proof containers and locked them up in the local storage facility. Mercifully, they picked one that was temperature controlled so some of our things that were irreplaceable and important to us—like baby books and home movies didn’t end up being corroded or corrupted.

We reimbursed the townsfolk for their time and efforts. When the houses were ready, we paid them handsomely to bring our belongings to us. Several of them stayed long enough to sit down with us and share what’s been happening in Cedar Creek. We’re nowhere near ready to take on such a profound conglomerate as the FBI and ATF, but we’re gathering resources and sharing intelback and forth with ones who aren’t under the belt of the pussy community.

Selah clears her throat, yanking me from my musings and asks, “Do you accept the challenge placed before you?”

“We do,” the four of us say in agreement.

“Then take your place on the field and let the games begin!” Selah yells, tossing her fisted hands in the air and whistling.

Wrecker, Prowler, Striker, and I are laying on our backs in the snow, panting as we try to regain our breath. Where the hell do they get all of that energy from? Whatever Kool-Aid they’re drinking, I’d like a sip of it. Getting old sucks.

---