Page 29 of Chaos Destiny
“You got her to us right on time. You’re a good daddy. I can tell. I was a daddy’s girl myself, so I know what good daddies look like.”
Gage looked down at Thandie.
Thandie yawned and settled further into him.
“Where’s your father now?” he asked.
Considering that the infection had spread globally, I was sure my disabled father had fallen to it. It was hard enough living through something like this without having to rely on wheelchairs and other types of mobility assistance.
“Cuba. My mother died when I was younger. She was from Ghana.”
“What does the ‘D’ stand for?”
“Diaz.”
“Tayler Diaz. Noted.”
“Taking notes?”
“Yep.”
The way he swallowed another spoonful of stew, I would have believed it tasted like something from a five-star restaurant if I hadn’t been having some myself.
But I’d never faced true desperation.
Even during the time I spent with Omar traveling up from Atlanta, I never went long without being surrounded by the walls of a sanctuary. The food was never the best, but it was never scarce to the point of starvation.
I motioned to the woods on the other side of the fence. “How long have you and Ari been out there?”
He swallowed, his head cocked to the side. “I really couldn’t tell you. After she had Thandie, we holed up in the hospital until the National Guard came in to retrieve us. It took a while because they had to triage everyone. After that, we went back toAri and Julien’s, stayed there until we were forced to evacuate, and made our way to the camp we were told had been set up. It’s all a blur now. I only know it’s been about seven months since the beginning because there was a calendar in one of the houses we squatted in for a couple of days. Somebody was marking off the days. We got there the day they stopped.”
I couldn’t judge anyone who chose to opt out. There were days when they seemed like the smarter ones. The idea of hope grew increasingly audacious as more and more time passed. Only time would tell whether the notion was rooted in foolishness or faith.
“By the way, who’s Julien?” I asked.
He stopped in the middle of bringing the last of his stew to his mouth. “Julien?”
“Yeah. You just said ‘Ari and Julien’s.’”
“Oh.”
He slipped the spoon between his lips.
So, I waited.
For nothing.
“Really, Gage?”
“It’s a?—”
“Long story,” I finished. I looked down at my bowl, where I’d started absent-mindedly swirling a bean around in the teaspoon of remaining broth. “‘It’s a long story.’ ‘It’s complicated.’ This is what you say, yet just minutes ago, you were begging me to have lunch with you. Said I was a source of comfort.”
The silence continued.
I raised my head.
“Julien’s a sensitive subject,” he said.
