“Oh, yes. Of course.” Vance and Josh seemed content to watch the spectacle from the sidelines, but had enough sense to start heading toward the bridge. “Take the rest of the day off, General. Give Alisa my love.”
My chest relaxed just slightly. So my mother was okay, and still with him.
“I’ll join you fellas!” Gunner slid up to Vance’s left side, sandwiching the governor between him and Josh.
Good man, I thought. That was Gunner, always rubbing elbows with the powerful people we needed on our side.
Turning back to my dad, we both blew out a long breath and laughed nervously.
“Fuck,” we said in unison, and laughed again.
“Holy shit, son. You look good. Little rough, but good.” He inspected me from head to toe. “You’re a man. God, you were what, nineteen the last time I saw you?”
“Something like that.” I squinted like he was an optical illusion about to disappear at any moment. “It’s been a long fuckin’ time.”
“How are your siblings?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Still with you?”
“Noelle’s good. She’s with me,” I said, taking a moment to gather myself before dropping the bad news. “Daren…we lost him just over a year ago.”
“Oh no.” His face fell. “Fuck, that poor kid. Ugh, how?”
“Um, he got sick. A virus, we think.” Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the need to self-flagellate over his death. At some point over the last few months, I’d been able to release some of the guilt. Plus, I’d just seen him and knew he was at peace.
“Your mom’s gonna be devastated.” Dad’s brow pinched, his eyes lowering with a pained gaze. Daren wasn’t his by blood, but none of that mattered to us growing up.
“Were you with him?” he asked. He kept a stoic face but I could see how hard it was for him not to choke up. “How did it happen? When did you get a dog?” He looked down at Hades, nuzzling his hand. “And fuck me, son, where have you been all this time?”
“Got a few minutes?” I angled my head toward the riverbank and pulled out a fresh cigarette. “Why don’t we take a walk?”
My father regained his composure and nodded, then promptly shook his head when I offered him a smoke. “Those things will put you in an early grave, son. You don’t get to be my age, and running past young punks, when your lungs are all tarred up.”
“I never planned on living long anyway,” I muttered. “But I’m cutting back. I got a woman now, and we’d like to have kids in a couple years.”
“You, a husband!” he laughed, slapping me on the shoulder. “And a dad-to-be, my goodness. Tell me about her! What’s her name? Does she have other men?”
“Hang on, old man,” I laughed, stunned at how easily we fell into our old banter despite not seeing each other for over ten years. “Let me start at the beginning.”
"Holy shit, Ror." My dad scraped his cigarette butt on the ground. He finally took one after I told him about nearly getting blown up at the Sandia outpost. "That's a hell of a few years. And Mari, damn." He shoved me playfully, lines deepening around his eyes as he grinned. "She must be a hell of a woman to deal with a punk-ass like you."
"She is." I pulled out two more cigarettes and held one out to him. "The other guys are good for her. I'm just trying my best."
"You all gotta come over. Lis and I miss having a busy house, and we need to meet our daughter-in-law." Dad took the smoke and went to light up, then hesitated. "But maybe a little bit after I tell her about Daren. She'll need some time, you know."
"Yeah," I said. "Noelle and I have already had a year to grieve. She's got a man too, you know."
"Oh, what's he like?"
"Eh, you'll meet him soon."
I could picture Larkan now, his back ramrod straight as he shook my father's hand and called him 'sir'. He'd be the type of guy to compliment my mother's cooking and do the dishes for her. My parents would love him, and as much as I hated to admit it, he was pissing me off a lot less. He protected Mari on that mission to Blakeworth, and returned her to me without so much as a scratch. The kid deserved a patch, and my respect, for that alone.
"He's her only one? She always did prefer that."
"Yes, and before you ask any more questions..." I pointed at him, cigarette between my fingers. "You've kept me waiting long enough, old man. Your turn to tell me where you've been all these years."
"Alright, alright." He took a deep drag, holding it in his chest for a moment before releasing it out.
"Some militia came to the commune one night," he began. "They were all in black, no insignia, unmarked vans, that whole business we heard whispers of, but never thought it was true. They came in with rifles and riot gear, started pounding on doors and yelling for people to get in the vans."
"Fuck," I said. My cigarette was already halfway gone.
"Noelle was asleep. Carter stuck her in the cellar and told her not to move or make a sound until you came for her. But other than that, no one had time to react. We were outnumbered and they were taking everyone, kids and old folks too. No one wanted to provoke these sons of bitches."
"Where'd they take you?"
"Their base, a bunch of old bunkers in Nevada. These guys called themselves the Original Patriots, saying they were trying to restore the country to its former glory, can you believe it? Kidnapping a bunch of families just trying to live peacefully and they call themselves patriots?"
"What did they want with all of you?" I finished my smoke and stuck another one in my mouth, already way past my usual daily amount, but also past the point of caring.
"Different tasks, depending on what they needed to run their camp. Soldiers, cooks, cleaners. They used children to run messages back and forth. We had to do everything we were told, on penalty of death. Some patriots, huh? And they wanted all the multi-husband families separated. It was to repent for our 'sinful ways'," he air-quoted.
"So what'd you end up doing?"
"They deemed Carter and I too old to be soldiers, so we were assigned to be mechanics. On opposites sides of the compound of course, once they figured out we were part of the same household. Your mom was in laundry and cooking for the first two years or so. That was hell. Carter and I barely saw her, and we weren't allowed to talk to her either. Then, uh," Dad paused, looking out over the river as he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair, "Carter got hurt."
"How?" I demanded, anger already boiling in me for what my second father must have suffered.
"Piece of machinery fell on him," Dad sighed. "Broke his leg in three places. I didn't know until days after. When your mom found out, she somehow got hold of a welding torch and made him a cane so he could get around a bit. But his leg was fucked and the poor guy was in so much pain."
"Was there no medic?" I snarled. "Did no one even try to heal him?"
"Only the chosen ones, the Patriots, got medical attention," Dad said bitterly. "We had to repent for some indefinite amount of time before we could have that privilege."