Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,32
couples who lead the session. They don’t seem that scary. I guess I expected apocalyptic preppers to look more . . . like something out of Mad Max? One of the guys looks just a little like a biker, big and burly and bearded. He seems to be the leader of the group, and you can tell he takes all this prepping very, very seriously.
He seems like the kind of person who takes himself very, very seriously, generally. Not just in doomsday scenarios.
Very, very seriously he takes us through a “prepping essentials” PowerPoint.
“The first thing is to know your procedures and know your rules,” the biker says.
“Ohh, I like him,” Imani murmurs, halfway joking and halfway serious.
“Your love language is rules and procedures,” Siggy teases her.
“Shh, I’m taking notes,” Imani says.
“Everyone’s rules might be different, depending on your prep-group needs,” the biker continues. “But you should make your rules and procedures now, before the crisis.”
“What crisis?” Siggy whispers the question.
“All of them,” I answer.
“For example, my number-one rule is: no outsiders allowed once the crisis hits,” the biker says. “Outsiders can be dangerous, and your first responsibility is to your core group.”
“That’s harsh,” Siggy says.
Imani leans over. “Well, think about the show. It makes sense to me.”
The biker finishes going over the rest of his rules then tags out to the other man, who looks like an accountant. He tells us how to pack a bug-out bag, and how to safely stash supplies in our houses and offices.
One of the prepper ladies (who looks kind of like Mrs. Claus) goes next, telling us how to make water drinkable by adding a few drops of Clorox to it.
“Two drops per quart, stir, let stand for thirty minutes, and voilà, drinkable!” she says.
Now that is really useful to know!
“Speaking of drinking water,” the biker guy says, “I’m gonna show you how to set up a solar-filtration system so you can drink your own urine.”
“Ew,” Siggy whispers.
She’s not the only one who has that response, because there’s an audible “ew” and then laughter that crests in the room like a wave.
The biker guy looks a bit miffed at the response.
“Real mature, people. Real mature,” he says. “But I’m standing here telling you, you can prepare for the worst all you want, you can lay the groundwork for your own survival. You can do everything right. But when push comes to shove, the survivors are gonna be those with mental toughness.”
“And those who drink their own pee,” Imani murmurs.
Siggy and I convulse in silent laughter. Luckily, we’re sitting in the back but omg, Imani just kills me, her face serious as she’s nodding along with the biker guy like he is her dude, he is the one, he is saying what we’re all thinking, he’s the preacher and we’re the congregation.
I can’t breathe; I’m struggling so hard not to laugh.
The biker guy taps his forehead with an index finger.
“Mental toughness,” he repeats.
Imani nods.
“Peeeeeeeee,” she whispers, tilting her head sideways in agreement like the word “pee” is a stand-in for “testify.”
Siggy makes a little gasping noise. She’s beet red and looks like she’s going to bust a gut.
“Stop, Imani.” My whisper is pressurized, eking out in front of the laughter that threatens to spill out.
Imani keeps a straight face, just shoots us a glance that says stop what? But mirth dances in her eyes and I swear I am going to die right here if I don’t make a noise, the pressure of laughter inside me is that strong.
I have to do something.
I can feel the gale of laughter building up in my chest.
Imani turns and thumps me on the back, and a spurt of laughter comes out as a cough. Siggy starts coughing, too.
“You’ve got to want to survive,” the biker guy says. “You’ve got to want to fight for it and never stop fighting.”