She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,233

and cheese. Water refills, too. At one point, she brought in a bowl with a wash cloth which she carried over to the floor next to Stella’s bunk. She tugged on a pair of the latex gloves, far too big for her, and dabbed at Stella’s forehead with the cloth. She was a cute kid.

The last of the fruit had gone a while ago, now nothing more than a black, pulpy mess at the bottom of the bowl. I’d carry Stella out to the trees if I had to, let her drain their life one at a time, the whole damn forest. God forgive me for what I’d do to anyone who tried to stop me from helping her.

I spoke to her.

For those two hours, I told her all there was to know about John Edward Jack Thatch, her Pip. From my earliest childhood memories to my worst fumbles as an adult (and there were many), I held nothing back. I told her about Dunk, Willy, and me as kids, and I told her about my Auntie Jo and Jo’s faults, flaws, dreams, and achievements. I explained how my aunt harbored such a hatred for my father, one I didn’t understand as a kid but became clear the moment I discovered his empty grave, while also learning the grave beside it was not. Our visits, year after year to those headstones—I could only imagine the thoughts running through Jo’s head when she looked at my father’s headstone. Her neglect of that stone, her reasons for her indifference toward him, painfully obvious now. A sister lost while the man who was with her lives on.

I told Stella about the money Jo arranged for me, the life she wanted me to build, and how I had dropped all to find her instead. As I weaved my gloved fingers between Stella’s and held her hand, I harbored not a single regret. Here, by her side, was where I was always meant to be.

“Jack?”

When I heard my name from her lips, I assumed it was only another dream-inspired utterance. Not until she said my name for a second time did I realize Stella was awake, her heavy eyes watching me from the small ball she had become on the cot.

Stella’s fingers squeezed around mine. She pulled my hand closer. “Can you take me outside? I’d like to see the stars.”

Although the volume was set low, the radio beside me was a constant buzz of Charter’s growing presence, and even though nothing was said aloud, I heard the tension building in the various voices chiming in with those reports. Something bad was coming, growing closer with each passing minute.

“I don’t know if it’s safe outside.”

“I want to see the stars, please Jack, it’s important to me.”

The weakness in her voice pained me. As she sat up, she looked so frail. I couldn’t deny her, not now, not ever. I helped her to her feet. “Can you walk?”

Stella nodded. “I think so.”

I tucked the Ruger into my waistband (a skill I had finally mastered), put the radio in my pocket, and placed both pairs of headphones around my neck so I could free both hands to help Stella.

She smiled for the first time in days. “You look ridiculous.” She grinned. “Like a horrible white rapper who misplaced all his gold chains and decided to go for a new look.”

“True dat.”

The bunk room was empty. No sign of my father, Cammie, or Darby. One of Dunk’s men stood sentry in the hallway, and at first I thought he might try to keep us in the room, but he didn’t. Instead, he followed silently a few paces behind us as I helped Stella negotiate the hallways and stairs to one of the catwalks outside, this one overlooking Carrie Furnace Boulevard, the railroad tracks, and the trees in the distance. Although I knew Charter was busy grouping beyond those trees, the area immediately surrounding the steel mill seemed oddly peaceful.

We sat on the edge of the catwalk, our legs dangling over the side. “Where are the others?” Stella asked, her fingers still in mine.

“On the roof, I think.”

“And Charter?”

“All around us.” I told her what I knew while pointing back at the trees.

She looked around, studied the open fields. “Seems so quiet.”

And it was quiet. The air was perfectly still, hovering somewhere in the sixties. A nearly full moon, at least three quarters, coating everything in a bluish white blanket of light.

Stella tilted her head up and smiled. “Of