Page 103 of Homestead

“Didn’t it help?” I ask at last. “The time alone?”

“It did. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

“But it wasn’t enough?”

He gives an exhausted shrug and stares down at the ground.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I murmur, knowing even as I say the words that they won’t change anything. “You didn’t know. You did what you had to do to save us.”

“I know.” He’s hoarse. Not pained exactly. Just so incredibly tired. “That’s what I do.”

That small comment enlightens me. Tells me something I didn’t know before. I turn to look at him, but he won’t meet my eyes. After a long stretch of silence, I ask, “How long has it been?”

He finally glances over with a silent question.

“How long have you been carrying a whole community on your back?”

My soft question gets to him. He makes a small sound in his throat and turns away. “Almost ten years.”

Ten years. Since before Impact. Probably ever since that terrible day when the approaching asteroid was announced to the world.

Since then, he’s been taking care of people. Protecting them. Holding them together. From what Cal and Rachel have mentioned in passing, Mack has been central to the safe, established communities that have been built and are growing in their part of the world.

Ten years he’s been doing it. Taking on their loads so they don’t have to carry them alone.

No wonder he’s on the brink of collapse.

“Have you never had a break in all that time?”

He gives another heavy shrug. “These past few days.”

“Can’t you get away for a little longer? Go somewhere on your own where you don’t have to hold everyone else together? It sounds like your community is doing pretty well now. Surely they won’t all fall apart without you for a while.”

“Where would I go?”

I straighten up. Widen my eyes. “I…” I hear my voice break, suddenly uncertain about the suggestion that’s just occurred to me.

He must know I have a thought because he finally straightens up too. “You have somewhere in mind?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. It might be crazy. But my grandpa and I lived in a cabin. In the middle of The Wild. He had it all fixed up with self-sustaining power and plumbing and everything. There’s still some prepper food there. If you think you can get across the border safely, I could give you directions on how to get there. I’m sure it’s still safe. There’s hardly anyone in The Wild, and no one knows where the cabin is.”

His mouth parts. For the first time since the gunfight, his expression relaxes. “You wouldn’t mind if I use it?”

“Of course not. It’s been sitting empty since the end of last year. No sense for it to be wasted. You would have to figure out a way to safely sneak across the border, but after that it should be easy. You could stay there as long as you want. It’s got at least a month or two left of food, and you could hunt and fish to supplement. You could… you could take care of no one except yourself for a little while.”

Mack takes a shaky breath.

“And when you’re ready to come back, there’s a truck and another ATV there with plenty of gas left. You could take whichever you prefer and then drive it all the way back to Kentucky. Whenever you’re ready to go home again.”

“You really wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’d be glad for what’s there to be of some use.” I reach over to touch his arm. “Mack, you risked your life for me and Jimmy. You had no reason to do that except the goodness of your heart. Goodness doesn’t always get rewarded, but it should be. Itshouldbe. So take time for yourself if you need it.”

He’s silent for a minute. I know he likes the idea. He wants to grab on to it. But there’s still something holding him back. “They’ll all think I abandoned them. Back home.”

I shake my head. “Maybe. Or maybe they’ll understand that after everything you’ve always done for other people, you finally needed to do something for yourself.”

And that does it.

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