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Hope is joking, but it’s possible there’s some truth to what she’s saying. I’m learning that the Working works in mysterious ways. Look at me and my guys. When we’re together, we’re stronger. Maybe there’s a similar dynamic developing with Hope and Justin. Maybe they really are bound in some strange way. Maybe her presence is what gives him the little bit of control he has over his Gift.
“So, you two met at Tulane?” I ask. Justin mentioned it as we were scavenging the hospital with Shep, but I didn’t get the details.
“I was doing two years of undergrad there,” Hope says. “Then I was going to go to veterinary school at LSU, but when Mom died, I had to drop out and go back to work at Popeye’s. The bills didn’t stop coming home just because Mom did. I met Justin in Psych 101. He had a way of speaking up in class and making everyone laugh.”
“Yep. That’s my brother.”
“I can’t believe you both survived,” Hope says. “And so far apart. And now you’ve met up again.” She hugs Steel’s tactical backpack closer to her chest, and my heart aches for her.
I learned earlier that Hope is the oldest of ten. With her mother working late most nights, she essentially took on the role of caregiver to her brothers and sisters, including helping to provide financially for them while she went to high school and started her college career. Her commitment to her family is evident even now, as she holds her sister’s remains.
Hope’s sister, whose name was Faith, had the misfortune of being raised by Lazarus as one of the “mombies.” Hope had been blending in with the mombies so she could watch over her. “I knew she wasn’t really Faith anymore,” she told me while we salvaged medical supplies from storeroom cabinets. “But I couldn’t let them do to her what they did to the others. I kept her at the back with me, and when the men came to choose one of them, Justin helped us know where they were looking, so we could shuffle around and stay out of sight.”
Apparently, when Grim killed Lazarus, like, for real killed him, the undead women all returned to their pre-resurrection state, including Faith. I can’t imagine watching a sibling decompose in seconds before my eyes, but that’s what Hope had to live through last night. I’m glad Sarge and Steel were there for her. They jumped into action, carefully wrapping up Faith’s remains in their handkerchiefs and tucking them securely in Steel’s backpack. Treating her sister’s remains with compassion helped Hope begin to trust them.
I’m glad Justin was there for her, too. Apparently, he’s been there for her nearly since the beginning, even if she couldn’t see him a lot of the time.
“She’s being modest,” Justin says. “She didn’t just work at Popeye’s. She was the manager.”
“Please,” Hope says, with a roll of her eyes. “Like managing a fast-food restaurant is going to impress anybody.”
“I’m impressed,” I say. “I’ve never managed anything in my life.”
“Except for seven boyfriends,” Justin says. He’s still trying to grip the edge of the seat with his incorporeal hands, as though he’ll go flying off it any second, but his teasing grin tells me he’s slightly more comfortable.
“Yeah,” Hope says. “What’s up withthat?Seven men? For real? I don’t even want one man in my life, let alone seven. That sounds like hell on earth to me.”
Justin silently shakes his head, but Hope doesn’t notice.
“I wasn’t exactly looking for a relationship,” I say. “I was running for my life, and they found me. Grim and Jud saved me, and the others, they’re all amazing in their own way. I didn’t set out to fall in love seven times over, but they’ve each earned it. It just feels right, somehow.”
Hope boggles her eyes at me. They’re a pretty shade of blue-green, that apparently comes from her African-American mother, who had a rare blue-eye gene. “And you, like,you-know…with all of them?” She draws outyou-know,and I get her meaning.
Justin claps his hands over his ears and sings, “La-la-la!I’m not listening! Let’s change the subject, now!”
Hope and I laugh, and I promise her we’ll have some girl talk when we get back to the ranch.
Chapter 25
Jud
Back at the Ranch
The sun feels likea warm kiss on my face. The gentle breeze tousles my hair like a lover’s fingers. A dozen different scents tickle my nose, and I can interpret them all. Tall grass, fresh mulch, cedar trees, dusty gravel, blooming azaleas, lingering cigar smoke from the night before, clean linens hanging on the line to dry, horses, manure, chicken feed, and best of all, smoldering charcoal and grilling steaks.
One of my favorite places on earth is the front porch back home, overlooking the old-growth forest and the camp my men and I have made our home. But this porch, in the middle of nowhere, Texas, is a close second.
We’ve been with the soldiers a week now, and we’re planning to leave soon. Every day, our bonds with the good men here are strengthening. Every day, Cora spends time with her brother. When she’s not with him, she’s getting to know Hope, the young woman who hid among the risen dead under Harrah’s Casino. The girls have been sharing a bedroom while me and the guys bunk in two rooms down the hall. Fortunately, the two-story ranch house is big enough to accommodate thirteen oversized men, two women, and a Ghost.
As much as the soldiers are making us feel at home, our true home is waiting. As the days pass, the ground water gets cooler from the tap and the livestock grow thicker coats. Winter is on its way, and there’s a lot to do back home to get ready, including patching up the damage from that bird storm that pummeled our lodge. Slowly, we’re packing up, working out a regular trade system with the soldiers, and preparing to hit the road. But leaving doesn’t mean we’re breaking ties. Far from it. Scrap is working on a long-distance comm system so we can stay in touch with our new friends after we leave.
A rocker made for a man with a big frame supports me as my intact senses interpret the happenings around the ranch. Doc’s healing, gentle workouts, and plenty of good food, has brought my health back to nearly what it was before Raptor took me. But my eyes stubbornly refuse to regenerate.
I’m getting used to being sightless. It’s not too bad. After a lifetime of vision, I can remember what everything and everyone looks like, and my senses of hearing, touch, and smell, fill in the gaps. But I’m completely over running into shit. Every step I take in this unfamiliar home is halting and uncertain.
The Judge is not supposed to be uncertain. The Judge is not supposed to be afraid of falling down a set of steps or tripping over a footrest.
The Judge is supposed to keep his men, and his queen, safe. How can I do that if I can’t see?
