Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107619 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I am glad he is dead. His thoughts are irritated on my behalf. You have not told me many good things about him.
I try to think of good things about Boyd as I comb. “When my brother wanted to be, he could be really charming and fun. I just think he didn’t know when to draw the line and not use people.” I sigh. “But I remember when we were kids, he was a good older brother. I think the After just got to him, like it gets to everyone. No one’s how they were Before. Not even you.”
This is true. His mind grows thoughtful. What were you like, Before?
I consider for a moment, and the thoughts are old, pleasant ones. “Very girly. Very into princesses and pink and horses and doing my hair. Oh, did I want a horse of my own. Not just any horse, a unicorn.” I shake my head at the thought. “I hated bugs and loved pretty dresses and wanted to be a dancer when I grew up.”
And now?
“And now I’ve eaten bugs when I was hungry enough, shaved my head bald when my hair was too dirty, and I laugh at how sheltered that old me was.” I can’t decide if my old life makes me sad or makes me angry. “I’m a lot tougher. I’ve had to fight for everything and I’ve lived on my own for a long, long time. Jack taught me how to take care of myself.”
You have thought of Jack before. Who was he? There’s an oddly possessive note in Zohr’s thoughts. Not a mate?
Oh, Jack. “Not a mate,” I agree, and try to send him an image of my old mentor. Jack was a small man, no more than five foot three or so, and wizened with age. He could have been fifty or could have been eighty. His hair was stark white and his face was nothing but cheekbones and wrinkles, but he was the strongest, most capable person I’d ever met. He never stopped moving, never stopped working, and never had time for anyone’s bullshit. “After me and Boyd were kicked out of Fort Tulsa, we scavenged on our own for a time, but it was rough. We didn’t know how to take care of ourselves and we were starving. We came upon some guy’s scavenger stash in an old cabin and raided it. Thought we were so smart. We ran off with his stuff and he tracked us down and told us he was going to blow a hole through our heads with his shotgun if we stole anything else from him.” I smile at the strange memory, and his angry surge of reaction. “It sounds violent, I know, but the moment Jack saw us he realized we were starving, and he couldn’t leave two kids on their own. He hunted for us that night, and I made a nuisance of myself following him because I insisted he show me how to do it. I didn’t want to be hungry ever again, you know. After that, we sort of ended up sticking together. Jack showed me so much. Boyd stuck around for about a year, maybe less, and then ran off because he missed the forts and hated how strict Jack was.”
But you liked it.
“I did,” I say softly. His hair is smooth, and now when I drag the comb through it, nothing snags. I separate it into three thick sections and begin to braid. “I missed structure. I was still a kid in so many ways, and with Boyd, there was no structure, no knowing how you were going to eat or where you’d hide in the next round of dragon attacks. Jack saved me. He gave me power over my situation. He showed me that I didn’t have to be a victim. That I could take care of myself. He taught me how to hunt and how to fish, what stuff is useful to scavenge and what isn’t. He taught me how to shoot a gun and throw a knife so it’ll actually penetrate the target. He showed me everything and he taught me that I can sit and whine or I can take care of business.”
Your thoughts grow sad. He is…gone?
I nod. “About a year now, I guess.” My eyes get wet and I sniff, even though I promised Jack I wouldn’t cry over his bony ass. “Medical care isn’t what it used to be and since we avoided forts, there was no doctor to see. Heck, even if there was a doctor, I don’t think they could have done anything for him. I think it was cancer, because he just got really tired and weak, and after a while, there were lumps under his ears and his arms. After that, he didn’t last much longer.” I swipe at my face with my arm, my fingers full of his hair. “Sorry. I should be used to this sort of thing by now. Nothing’s ever permanent in the After.”