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Yeah, yeah. I’ve finally admitted that my Gift is still working. I sensed Raptor coming when we were in the chopper. And as I met each one of the soldiers, and Cora’s brother, I instinctively knew they were good and honest men.
But what about regular life shit? How am I supposed to monitor the security cams around the camp? How will I keep track of survivors in our territory on my maps? Once we get home, there’s going to be a million everyday tasks I can’t do anymore.
But everyone still insists on deferring to me. They still call me boss, even though we all know they deserve better.
Last night, here on this porch, I broached the subject of leadership with Rev. He’s been in charge since I was taken, after all. With me incapacitated, it makes sense for him to stay in that role. But he wouldn’t hear it. He squashed that line of thought like a cockroach beneath his boot.
“Leading isn’t about being whole,” Rev said. “It’s about sacrifice. It’s about wisdom. At this point, no one knows more about those things than you, brother.” I heard the ashy squish as he stubbed out the butt of his minicig, and the scent of its smoke turned bitter. “You’ll have to rely on the rest of us more. So what? That doesn’t change the fact that we all rely on you. It’s just more even now. The mighty Judge has been humbled.” I hear the humor in his tone. “Now he’s got to ask for help sometimes. Just like the rest of us.” His gravelly chuckle was contagious, and I started to believe I could still lead effectively.
But by the light of day, it’s hard not to wonder if this is the right thing for our settlement.
I’m relieved to shift my focus when Ghost passes by me to sit on the chair at my side. I know it’s him before he speaks because of the humidity boost and temperature drop that follow him everywhere he goes.
“Mind if I pull up a chair?” he says.
“Knock yourself out. If you can, that is.” I angle my head to listen as he practices control of his Gift.
It’s been a team effort, but Doc and Cora have stepped up the most to help him with his Gift. Building on the observation that he doesn’t sink down through floors or the ground, they’ve been gradually adding surfaces he can interact with instead of pass through. My guess is once the kid gets control of his Gift, it’ll be a damn useful asset.
“Did you get it?” I ask? I can’t tell if he’s sitting in the chair or struggling to float over it.
“Ha, yeah. I have to concentrate, though, or I start sinking.” His voice is growing stronger, as if his vocal cords are becoming more solid.
“Well, if worse comes to worst, you’ll just end up sitting on the porch. At least you don’t keep going down into the ground.”
“That would definitely suck,” he says on a laugh. For all the kid’s been through, I have to give it to him. He doesn’t let it get him down. “This whole Gift thing is a freaking mind trip.”
“Welcome to the New World.”
“Yeah. New World is right,” he says. “Nothing’s the same, anymore.” I hear echoes of pain in his voice, but he doesn’t get bogged down in it. “It’s like humanity is starting over from scratch. And it’s like, why me when so many died? Why us, you know?”
I’ve long since stopped trying to work out the why of it all. But I’m not a young man anymore. Young men like to know why. Older men, we accept things and move on. “All I know is we’ve got to do what’s right for the benefit of those who come after us. We’re the baseline. What we do sets the tone for the future. So, we better get it right.”
“Sounds like something a leader would say.”
I shrug. “It’s something a responsible man would say.”
“Nah. It’s more than that. It’s a leader thing. You’re a leader. Being blind now doesn’t change that.”
I feel the sunglasses shift on my nose as my eyebrows shoot up. How does this kid know I’ve been struggling with that shit?
He must be able to read the shock on my face because he chuckles.“What can I say? I’m a Ghost. I hear things. I don’t mean to, I just do. Doc thinks it’s part of my Gift. It’s like I just happen to be at the right place at the right time to overhear important stuff.Last night, I was out walking and heard you and Rev. Don’t worry,” he rushes to say. “I didn’t stick around and eavesdrop. But I heard enough to get the gist.”
I snort. “My new handicap is important, huh?”
“Yeah,” he says. “It is. It’s hella important to you, and it’s important to the others because they care about you. And, you know, because they need you.”
I fold my arms across my chest and look out over the ranch. I see it in my mind’s eye as the early evening sun gilds the fields and pastures with the last of its rays before nightfall. I wish I could see just how vast the landscape is to compare it to my memory of bike trips through Texas. Some of the land in this state is the prettiest you’ll ever see. Other parts are just endless, flat horizons that grow old real quick. I wish I could tell how many trees are out there, dotting the ranch. How many animals are grazing in the fields.
“I wasn’t planning on having a therapy session with a near stranger,” I say.
“Sometimes, it’s easier to talk to a stranger.”
Kid’s not wrong. I haven’t exactly been Mr. Chatty with the others since New Orleans. Then again, I’ve never been one to share my feelings freely. Before the Virus, I could count the people who got that kind of access on one hand with fingers to spare. After, well, when you’re the boss, you don’t really have a peer to open up to. I guess, I sort of fell out of the habit of talking about myself.
When I don’t say anything, Ghost goes on. “It’s a nice thing to be needed. But it can be overwhelming, too. Sometimes the people who need you are patient. They know you have baggage, and they give you time to process it. Sometimes, they’re not patient. Sometimes, they push you.”
I look sideways at him. Something tells me we’re not just talking about me, anymore.
