Life's return

Spitting Venom

TW: Swearing

"So, Is there any reason you're ignoring Dad, or?" Alaska asked New York. 

He stared into the fire for several seconds. They could just hear Texas talking to America. Dixie turned the meat over carefully, catching his attention.

"Yep, to bad we don't have any salt for that. It smells amazing though."

"Don't go using me to dodge," the southerner answered. "She asked a fair question. Hell, you treated me better when I started traveling with y'all, and I was liable to kill you when I was alive."

 It took everything in New York not to jump up and attack the man. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Look, I know you and Dad went through a lot of shit together lately, and I respect that. Please respect that the fucker put us older kids through a lot of shit, and sorry don't cut it." He glanced  at the plane. "At least not for me."

"You know what we haven't done in a while? Let's sing a camp fire song!" California said.

"Cali, I don-"

"Kumbaya my lord! Kumbaya!"

"Really?" Louisiana asked.

"Kumbaya my lord! Kumbaya!" Alabama and Mississippi joined in.

Alaska flashed Louisiana a questioning look, and got a tired sigh in response.

"Oh Lord, Kumbaya!" New York joined, he sang so loud his voice was cracking. The group kept it up until California gave themselves a coughing fit.

"So, y'all going to acknowledge the corn or are y'all going to do, whatever that was again?" Dixie let himself sit.

"Corn? What corn? All I see is a barely field!" New York yelled madly. A hysterical laugh escaped his lips. "Meep meep went the little green frog one day!"

"Meep Meep went the little green frog!"  Alabama and Mississippi answered.

"Would you stop?" Louisiana flashed her siblings a vicious look. "You can't ignore him forever."

"You're right, when we get the plane fixed, we'll shove him in the bathroom. Problem solved!"

"I don't think I can fly all the way home without a bathroom," Alabama said.

"Believe it or not, he is trying to clean up," Alaska said.

"Yeah, and he said that in 1930 to," New York sneered. "He had Missouri and Florida bootlegging for him. Trust me, the day he-"

"Look, I know Pa's a bad egg, You act like he's some no account deadbeat." Dixie gestured towards the plane with his knife. "Just because he put you and Jersey as dog robbers and bummer s don't mean you can sit there and act like he ain't here."

"Oh I can. You don't know what happened after you died. Hell you don't even know what happened before the Missouri compromise." New York spat. "Why are you even defending him? He fucking killed you!"

"Yeah, after I had Missouri at gun point!" Dixie took a deep breath and growled. "I ain't saying you have to crawl in his lap like when we were little. All I am saying is maybe you should see if he can help us while he's still willing."

New York answered the speech with a glare.

"Alright, let's put it this way. With how many close calls, snafu's and near misses we've had since the quake, can we really afford to miss out on his healing ability?" Louisiana asked.

"Fine, I will stop ignoring the old fucker. But I don't want to hear it when he falls off the wagon. Again." He stood and stretched his back. He walked towards the plane.

When he got to the door, he glanced at the pair on the wing. He took a breath as he forced his face to relax.

"Good night Tex, Boss." He opened the plane door and stepped in. He found his seat and pulled his fleece blanket over his lap.

New York woke up the next morning to Louisiana muttering  about supplies. He tilted his head.

"What's wrong?"

"We have loads of meat but we have almost no medicine, nothing to keep scurvy at bay, we're running low on fuel, and unless you plan on reenacting "the Martian" we need to find somewhere to unload the septic tank eventually." She sighed. "Not to mention the wards. Oh lord the wards."

"Can't we just, pray over those or something?" he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"We would still need to look for a place to empty the septic."

"So, foraging?"