Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
“Fifty-two, actually. But the last four, they’re too big for this job. These little fuckers though”—he looks down at his drones like they are his children, or dogs, actually, that’s how proud he is of them—“these little fuckers are sneaky.”
“And what, exactly, are you plannin’ to do with said little fuckers?”
“Mostly just send a not-so-polite message.” He smiles at me. “Because I know damn well you’ve already got a plan. But I’m gonna get my jabs in too. And these little fuckers are gonna do that for me. We need to teach these people a lesson, Col. They don’t get to do this shit. Maybe what Jim Bob said about Olive is true, but that don’t matter. You do not break into a man’s house and steal his child. If they knew Olive was there, and she was one of theirs, the polite thing to do—the smart thing to do—is have a fuckin’ conversation. And now they what? They’ve taken Lowyn hostage or something? To get back at you for stumblin’ into their stupid fuckin’ boneyard?”
“Sounds about right.”
“Well, that shit is over now. We’re here and we’re not playin’ that game.”
“What’s all this got to do with drones?”
He smiles at me. It’s one of those wicked ‘I’m Amon Parrish’ smiles that I only ever see when we’re workin’ a job and his mind is abuzz with ideas. “You’ll see. I’ll set them up and then you’ll see. In the meantime, do me a favor, will ya?”
“What’s that?”
“Go tell Nash to pay all these motherfuckers off and send them home. We’re gonna finish this place ourselves.”
Finally, he’s talkin’ sense.
I turn to do this, but he calls me back. “Hey.”
I look over my shoulder at him. “What?”
“You missed your dose. We all took ours at breakfast. I was gonna bring you yours last night, but I forgot because we had that dinner in Bishop. So… make sure you drink that, OK?”
I give him a little salute and walk out of the church.
When I get to Nash’s house, he’s in his office fuckin’ with paperwork. His place looks pretty nice. I did see it the other night at the party, but there were too many people to really get details. It’s clean now. And he’s got new furniture.
He looks up when I walk in. “What’s up, Col?”
“Where do I start?” I kinda laugh these words out. Nash just looks a little confused, so I elaborate. “Amon says to send all these boys home. We’ve got security issues with them. They can’t be trusted. Pay them off and tell them thank you.”
“OK. I’ll do that.” Nash salutes me.
Which I hate. But I don’t say nothing. I just walk out of his office and go into the kitchen—which, in the span of one week, has all been redone. Shiny new appliances and stone countertops even.
I find a single stainless-steel canister waiting for me in the fridge. They are delivered weekly on Sunday nights. I take it out and set it on the counter, running a conversation I had with Lowyn yesterday though my head. ‘Did you ever take that treatment?’
I told her no. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. When I was telling her about that time I saw her on TV and I was having a real bad day because one of my men died from a treatment, I wasn’t a Marine at that time, so I wasn’t getting those particular treatments.
But we all got treatments while we were official military.
And we still take them because we don’t have a choice anymore.
I twist the cap off the canister, smell it—kinda fruity, like always—and then drink it.
Because I don’t have a choice.
“Why the hell would my mother want to talk to you, Lowyn McBride?”
Ike’s response kinda shocks me. Probably because I was looking through that photo album, so my temper has simmered down a little. But he’s been outside doin’ whatever, so his must still be boilin’ over.
“She probably doesn’t.” I force myself to stay calm. “But I have something to say to her.”
“Well, let’s hear it. And I’ll pass it along.”
I sigh. I could insist, I guess. But this direction feels like a brand-new fight and I’m trying to defuse things. “I would just like to apologize to her. And your sisters. And…” I force myself to say this last part. “And you, too.”
His brows are all furrowed up. “For what, exactly?”
“For… running away, I guess.”
“You guess?”
I’m mad now, I can’t help it. “Ya know what? Fuck you, Ike. I was hurt that day. Probably did have a concussion. But above and beyond that, I was sad. It was my mama’s first birthday after her death. I was missing her that night. And I was tired. I did the whole fuckin’ Revival myself that first year like I was a grown-up, and I wasn’t. I was a kid.” I point at him. “You knew that.”