Page 60 of His to Burn
“Very funny. But it wasn’t the law that actually held him back. It was the water table. He hired and fired seven engineers before he finally accepted the fact that even the most brilliant design couldn’t elude Mother Nature. So this attic was his consolation prize,” I said.
I stood in one corner and watched as Jack walked through the neatly organized rows, his posture bent to accommodate the low roof. Even though it had been a few years since I had been up here, I still knew the area well.
Food was back left.
Back right was common household items.
Weapons were right up front.
“Not bad. Not bad,” Jack said.
He went to the weapons first and pulled out two handguns and one rifle.
“You know how to shoot?” he asked.
I grimaced. “I’ve shot a gun a couple of times, but I’m by no means an expert. My uncle tried?—”
I cut off when he handed me a gun. “There’s nothing like on-the-job training. Keep it with you at all times. Be prepared to use it. And don’t hesitate.”
I didn’t want it, but I took it.
Common sense said having it should have made me feel better, but it didn’t.
I wasn’t naive or Pollyanna-ish about guns. I knew that they could be essential, but I saw the damage they did every day.
Knew what they had taken from me.
To have one now, to know that my life would depend on using it only underscored the horror of the situation.
Still, I took the gun, checking the safety, and then tucked it in my waistband.
He studied me for a moment. “Gun in the waistband?”
I shrugged. “Why not?”
He let out a humorless laugh. “Because that’s TV shit. Only assholes and fakes do that in real life. But youdoknow your way around them, I suppose,” Jack said.
He sounded almost impressed.
“What, you think I wouldn’t?” I said.
“Yeah. I know your type—liberal do-gooder. Crayons, not guns, or some shit like that.”
I rolled my eyes. “Sure. But you strike me as a man who’s seen enough to know that the world is nuanced. So yes, crayons, not guns—unless the dead come back to life,” I said.
Jack paused, then looked at me.
“Is that what’s happening?”
I tilted my head, kept my eyes focused on him.
“Are you condescending me, or is that a serious question?”
“You’ll know if I’m condescending you, Counselor,” he said.
I stared at him for a long moment before speaking. “What else could it be?”
All that I’d seen flashed through my mind.
