Brother Larry was living on borrowed time? And without a successor to take over the running of the town? I was surprised he’d confide in me, unless it was common knowledge already. “Why don’t you go to Atlanta and see about treatment?”
“The only thing that can help me at this point is a new lung. And I’m not leaving my homestead to be put on some years-long waiting list and die in a cell block where I can’t even see the stars.”
I nodded because I agreed with him completely. “Why are you telling me all this?”
“Trust is a two-way street, Cipher. Very few people around here know that my health is in decline, but I can’t expect you to make yourself vulnerable to me without offering you something in return.”
I looked him right in his eyes and saw something there that I recognized, underneath the hardness and grit was fear, one that for me bordered on terror–the fear of appearing weak or damaged.
“Listen, I’m not going to pressure you into anything,” he continued. “Your sexuality is what it is, and I respect that. But I do see a lot of potential in you, kid, not just as a soldier, but as a leader. What it takes to lead, a willingness to make tough decisions and to sacrifice, those qualities are in short supply. Even before the plague, a good leader was hard to find. And it’s even more important nowadays. So, as you go about your days here in Promised Land, I’d urge you to think about your long-term plans. Not where you want to be tomorrow or next week but where you want to be a year, two years from now. You can’t live your entire life on adrenaline and fear alone.”
“It’s gotten me this far,” I said, though I did appreciate that he wasn’t trying to bullshit me.
“Yes, I suppose it has.”
We were quiet as I reflected on his advice, listening to the leaves as they rustled in the breeze. A leader? It wasn’t the first time he’d mistaken me for one. And even amongst my own tribe, they generally looked to me or Artemis to make hard decisions, but it seemed more of a default than a choice.
“The Placement Committee told me to report directly to you,” I said, finally getting around to the reason I was here.
“Yes, I told them to send you to me.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I need a new apprentice.”
“Carpentry?” I asked, still wary of being singled out. Was it a trick? A way to get me to let down my guard?
“You think you’re too good to learn Jesus’s trade?” He looked stern for a moment, then cracked a wide smile and nudged my shoulder. “Joking, kid. But I am serious about getting this stage built. Even soldiers need to learn a trade in times of peace.”
“Are we at peace?” I asked because I wasn’t so sure.
“I am, and you could be too.” He tapped his temple. “It’s all up here, my young friend. So, finish up your smoke, grab yourself a hammer and some nails, and come find me. We’re on a deadline.”
* * *
That evening,after a long few hours of busting my ass (and a thumb), I met up with the Assholes at the cafeteria to eat dinner and compare how we’d each spent our afternoons. Artemis was all smiles after touring the school, talking about how adorable the children were, several of whom stopped by our table to say hello to “Sister Artemis.” Macon and Kitten didn’t have to report to their work placements until tomorrow, so they’d constructed a fire pit in our new backyard. Gizmo was discussing the need for a more mechanized means of harvesting crops, a campaign he planned to pitch to the Agricultural Committee as soon as possible, and even Teresa seemed to have enjoyed her afternoon getting to know Sister Diane who managed the general store.
“How was your day? Did you get a placement?” Kitten asked me. He always paid attention to when I’d withdrawn from the conversation or didn’t offer my fair share of information.
“I’m going to learn carpentry under Brother Larry. He’s building an outdoor stage and needs more workers.”
“That’s great,” Kitten said brightly. “Isn’t it?”
“Everyone should learn a trade,” I said then scolded myself for repeating the man’s own words. I thought back to Larry’s belief that children were our future. Maybe so, but how was that fair to them? To bring a child into a world still in the midst of a plague, when there were still so many Rabids on the loose? I recalled Marion’s reasoning–that there was still beauty, compassion, and hope–Kitten helped me to remember that. But there was also disease, starvation, and turmoil. Did they balance each other out?
And while I was caught up in my own existential pondering, conversation had turned to our plans for the evening, which included a bonfire in the backyard, and it seemed the entire cafeteria had gone silent when Kitten suddenly announced, “Cipher said he’s going to show me how to sixty-nine.”
Did he just? Yeah, he did.
I dropped my head into my hands, mortified on his behalf and mine too. There was a beat of silence and then Macon burst out laughing. From the corner of my eye, I saw Artemis’s eyebrows shoot high on her forehead.
“Why are you laughing?” Kitten asked Macon, bewildered. “It’s a fighting move, right? Like, with knives?” He made a motion with his hands. “Macon, what is it?”
Macon, now beet-red and with tears streaming down his face, broad chest heaving, could only shake his head and wave one hand in protest.
“Is it a sex thing?” Kitten demanded. “Artemis?”
“No way am I answering that one,” she said staunchly, eyes sliding in my direction.
