"Jeremiah Shepherd," he said. "Most people just call me Shepherd. I keep this place running."
"He's being modest. He keeps everything running. Including us." Zadie leaned and wrapped her arms around him as well. "It’s so good to be back."
Shepherd patted her back. "I’m glad you made it back in one piece."
After Gideon’s parents had died, he’d spent two years living in a tiny basement apartment. Actually, he’d rented a room from a nice older lady who allowed him to use her upstairs kitchen and downstairs bathroom. He’d paid next to nothing for it, which was more than he could afford. He always felt bad because he was constantly late on his rent, but Babs, the woman who owned the house, kept telling him as long as he continued to fix things around the place and helped her with the stuff she could no longer do, she didn’t care. She hated living alone.
She’d cried when he moved out and went to the Royal Military College. Truth be told, he might have shed a tear, too. She’d been the closest thing he’d had to family, and he’d written to her every day until she died.
One more loss. After that, he tended not to make close connections, always keeping people at arm's length.
Standing in this corridor he was torn between wanting to run and wanting someone to know he existed. And maybe even someone to care about.
"Where’s everyone else?"
"Scout and Coulter went on a supply run," Neve said. "I would’ve gone, but Scout was going stir crazy and needed to get out. They should be back in about an hour."
"I think I’ve had my fill of the outside world for a bit." Zadie looped her arm into Shepherd's as they made their way deeper inside the bunker.
"Wynn and Darwin are in the medical wing with Kane," Shepherd said.
"Is he okay?" Zadie asked.
"He’s complaining. About everything." Shepherd laughed. "I think that’s a good sign."
"Who’s Kane?" Part of Gideon felt as though he already knew everyone. But the bond they shared made him feel a bit like he’d shown up at the wrong house for Christmas dinner. And worse, he’d already helped himself to the glazed ham.
"A teammate," Neve said. "He was injured during the ambush."
"I’m sorry." Gideon knew the words themselves were hollow. However, the sediment behind them was not.
"Are you hungry? Because there’s left over pizza in the fridge. And Wynn made this cheesy chicken casserole." Neve smiled. "Every single time she makes the dish, it’s a little different because that girl never writes a recipe down. But it also is always one of the best dinners we have in this place."
"I could eat." Gideon’s heart flipped in his chest as he entered a sprawling living room with a big-screen TV, a sectional sofa, a couple of recliners, and a desk with a computer in the corner. There were bookshelves that held actual books—paperbacks, mostly, spines cracked and faded. A deck of cards sat on the coffee table next to a half-finished puzzle of what looked like the Canadian Rockies. And it even had a few paintings on the walls. No windows, but outside of that, he couldn’t tell he was at least two stories underground and that settled his heartbeat a little.
"Kitchen's right over there," Shepherd said, pointing. "Coffee maker with pods. Chips, cookies, other snacks are in the cupboards. Help yourself to anything. We share in this place. Zadie will give you the rest of the tour."
"Thanks."
"You can pick any unused bedroom. Plenty to choose from," Shepherd said.
"I better go let Darwin and Wynn know you’re here. I know Darwin wants to see you, and Wynn is dying to meet the legend." Neve turned and disappeared down a corridor before Gideon to respond. So, instead, he gave Zadie a sideways glance.
She shrugged.
"I’m heading out. I’ll be back in a day or two." Shepherd slapped his back. "Welcome to Black Hollow." Shepherd stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled toward the kitchen, turned the corner, and disappeared.
"This place is wild," he said, staring at the puzzle.
"That’s Scout’s project," Zadie said. "Three weeks ago. No one's allowed to touch it but her."
"Noted."
"Let's go find you a bedroom."
"Lead the way." He adjusted his pack on his shoulder. Everything that mattered to him was tucked inside. Computer, tablet, military-grade comms, burner phone, one extra pair of clothing, which included a shirt that had a hole in it he kept meaning to toss, and a picture of his parents.
He didn’t need much. Never had. He’d learned a long time ago that things could be replaced, but people couldn’t.
