“Why the hell are we doing this again?” Mike grunted as he lugged two forty-pound buckets of sea salt up the stairs. I was only able to carry one at a time, and I still felt like I was going to die.
“Because we’ve got to make a perimeter of salt around the entire rooftop,” I wheezed. “So we’re prepared for when the crazy ass stuff goes down.”
“Have I mentioned how much you’re a pain in my ass, kid?”
“Yup.” I popped my p.
“And not the kind I like!”
My snort may have been a laugh, or it may have been me attempting to breathe. Either way, it was just what the doctor ordered.
