Scottie emerged on the rooftop of the Melnik home and approached their airship. He easily hoisted his brown canvas bag into the nimble little aircraft. He may have have gone a bit overboard bringing along a rifle and a couple pistols, but he felt that it was better to be safe than sorry.
He prepared to board when he heard his wife call out behind him, “Wait a minute!” He spun around and furrowed his brows when he saw her. Sky’s face was as red as her hair as she labored to drag three heavy canvas bags across the roof. Scottie rushed to her aid, snatching up what he gauged to be the two heaviest bags. The heavier of the two clanked as he walked, the metal within shifting about. The lighter, while quiet, it was bursting at the seams with clothing.
Scottie dropped both bags to the ground by the ship and helped her with the third, which rattled as he hefted it out of her hands. His brows furrowed again and he dropped the bag next to the others, pointing at them, “What have you got here?”
She looked at him, shrugging nonchalantly and pointing at the clanking bag, “Swords…” and then the overstuffed bag, “…clothes…” and finally pointed to the rattling bag, “…foodstuffs.”
Scottie looked at her stunned, “Foodstuffs!? I can understand the swords, though it feels like you packed every single one but-” He studied her face, “Wait wait… Every. Single. Sword!? We own ten of them and I bet there’s more than that here! What in the hell are we gonna do with ten swords?”
Sky rolled her eyes at him, “Well, there’s actually fifteen. There’s probably a few you didn’t know about that I hid around our flat. And you never know! We could get attacked by air pirates! You know how they still beeline after me!”
Scottie sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Even if we were attacked by air pirates what are the two of us, with all four of our hands, going to do with ten- er, I mean fifteen swords?”
Sky harrumphed, “I feel more comfortable having them with us. I’m planning for the worst here. What did you pack?”
Scottie pointed to his very lonely single bag, “A rifle and two pistols. And a few clothes.”
“That’s it? What if we get attacked by a fleet of air pirates? Do you think your rifle and pistols will hold them off?”
“If we get attacked by a whole fleet do you think fifteen swords are gonna do a damned bit of good?”
Sky huffed and crossed her arms, tapping her left foot on the ground and cocking her head, staring daggers at Scottie. He took a deep breath, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to win that argument. He picked up the clanking bag and tossed it into the ship. He pointed at the next bag, “Foodstuffs? Really? Are we going to chuck tin cans at the fleet of air pirates should we run out of ammo?”
Her eyes flickered, first in recognition, “Ammo, definitely need more of that…” and then blazed, “What if the ship crashes? We’ll need food, right? Gotta have food if we’re stuck somewhere for days waiting for rescue!”
Scottie opened his mouth to respond, but then just shut it. He picked up the bag and tossed it onto the ship, mumbling, “Hope you brought a can opener…”
Sky growled, “One in that bag, one in my pouch, and we have the swords and daggers if absolutely necessary.”
Scottie shook his head, pointing to the last bag, “We’re not going to be gone for more than a week. What’s all of this?”
“Jungle wear. And before you ask, we could get blown off course and crash. In a jungle. Did you learn nothing from the Lighthouse adventure?”
Scottie fumed but found he could do nothing but toss up his hands. He grabbed at the overstuffed bag and just lobbed it onto the airship without any regard for where it may land. One of the straps looped over the ship’s wheel and it hung there, swinging before it settled. “Anything else? I don’t see a bag with our sink in it…”
As Sky stormed off, presumably to get more ammunition, she called behind her, “Other side of the ship, love. And don’t go throwing around the bag of dynamite!” Scottie’s eyes were large as saucers. Dynamite!?
“And I better not hear a word about my winter wear!” Sky gave another warning as she disappeared down the stairs. Scottie whirled around, stomping to the other side of the ship. Waiting for him were 14 more canvas bags haphazardly piled next to the airship.
Scottie closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose again, taking several deep cleansing breaths. Finally he started tossing bags into the airship, chanting under his breath, “I love her. I love her. I love her…” He swore one of those bags held a sink-sized shape within it, but he dared not look. He gingerly set the last bag, packed with several boxes of dynamite, into the airship. His work finished, he simply climbed aboard and took his place at the wheel. He unhooked the jungle bag from the wheel and tossed it onto the rest of pile while waited for her to return with an ammo-filled satchel.
Two hours later they were in the air and Sky was below deck, catching a nap before her shift at the wheel. The cool night air whipped around Scottie and he chuckled to himself, the canvas bags laid out neatly now in some strange system Sky had adopted long before he knew her. He checked the compass and was satisfied they were headed south, right on track for Ravila.