Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 754(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
thirty-eight
Emily
He was pulling away from me. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally. I remembered what it felt like; it’d happened before.
I didn’t ask where we were going. I just walked the couple blocks beside him, allowing him time to come to terms with the fact that his uncle was dead. There wasn’t the time for grief—that would have to be set aside—but acceptance would help. Or so I hoped.
We stopped in front of a small house that looked very similar to his uncle’s, as did most of the homes in this obviously low-income neighborhood. A large red x marked this door as well and Tuck let out a staggered breath and hung his head. After a moment, he turned and looked around and then walked up to the porch, leaning toward the window and using his hand to shade his eyes as he gazed inside. I heard a groan come from his throat before he stood straight. “Let’s go.”
“Whose house is it, Tuck?” I asked quietly as we turned back down the block and began walking.
For a moment he was quiet, leaning toward an alley and peering down it before taking my arm and pulling me forward. “Abel’s girlfriend’s.”
Abel.
The young man who’d robbed a convenience store and bled to death in Tuck’s car, a crime that Tuck had taken partial responsibility for even though—to my mind—he shouldn’t have. I looked up at him, his jaw set, expression blank. “Were they…were they both in—”
“Yes,” he said, his voice choked.
“I’m so sorry. Tuck—”
“Come on. I know somewhere we can stay overnight. We’ll leave for your parents’ in the morning.”
My heart sank. I saw him shutting down, returning to the man he’d been. Not angry like I’d once thought. Not bitter. Helpless. Grief-stricken. All this carnage, all this death, and now the vision of what had to be the dead bodies of Abel’s girlfriend and young son had reminded him that he was still trying to make up for not doing what he believed he should have when presented the chance. For failing Abel, and in so doing, failing Abel’s girlfriend and son.
And the thing was? It’d just so happened that he’d found himself in a world ripe with chances to pay that unseen debt. They were everywhere. I’d seen the relief on his face when he’d given the man with the baby our condensed milk. And I’d felt relief too. I’d wanted to give it to him. But for Tuck, it wasn’t just an act of kindness, it was a small step toward the redemption he was still seeking.
Only I wondered when it would be enough, wondered how many lives he’d have to save to assuage the shame and guilt he couldn’t let go of.
What I was beginning to fear—deeply—was that I wasn’t enough to convince him to give it up.
I wasn’t even sure it was right that I try. Because the world needed heroes now and their motivations didn’t much matter.
“This way,” he said, leading me toward an obviously abandoned laundromat. Only, it clearly wasn’t abandoned recently. This place had been an empty shell for quite some time—a decade at least if I had to guess. I followed Tuck to the rear, and he looked around before opening the back door and pulling me inside. The large empty space was dim and mostly empty. Any equipment had been cleared long ago, the only remnant of what it’d once been a coin machine half hanging on the wall that said, “Detergent.”
“No one’s going to come in here,” he said, turning to our right where there was a smaller room that had likely once been a manager’s office. We entered the mostly empty space, a small window high up on the wall glowing with the final rays of sunset. There was a large metal shelf on one wall, and Tuck closed the door and then pushed the shelf in front of it.
“How long has this place been abandoned?”
“It closed down a year or so after I moved here. There was a for-sale sign up on the land for years, and I think it was purchased a couple of times, but it always fell through. I don’t know why.”
I put my pack down and then sat on the floor under the window, my back propped against the wall. I took out a can of beans and peeled the top back, tipping it and pouring them into my mouth before handing the can to Tuck. “Bon appetite,” I said, attempting to make him smile.
He did, sitting down next to me and taking the can. “Are you okay?” I asked.
He was quiet as he chewed but nodded when he handed the can back to me. “I will be.”
Will you, Tuck?
We took out a few crackers and we ate for a moment. As hungry as I was, the food brought no pleasure. I felt heavy with fear and sorrow. And I knew what these feelings meant. I remembered well the distant look on Tuck’s face.