by H. D. Gordon
My mouth was open, ready to respond, but that last thing he said knocked me off my high horse. I snapped my mouth shut as the implication there set in. Then I sank down further into the couch, and did my best to fight the tears that were beginning to well in my eyes.
Mr. Landry sighed and sat down beside me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I’m not saying it’s your fault,” he said, his gruff voice gentle. “Ain’t none of what happens or has happened in your life is your fault, Joe. My point is, your gift is getting stronger. The seriousness and the danger of what you foresee is growing. All I’m saying is, you need to grow too. This whole thing…there ain’t no handbook on how to deal with it. It’s trial and error. I’m just trying to make sure we learn from the errors. I won’t be here to help you forever.”
I wiped my eyes, because there was a knock at my door and I didn’t want to think about that last part. Mr. Landry went over and let Michael in. He gave Michael a rundown of what Troy and Prescott had told us.
“So the dude lied for me?” Michael asked, obvious relief settling over his face. He was a little paler than usual. Killing two people could do that to a fella.
“Well,” Mr. Landry said, “He lied for Joe, but yeah, I’d say you’re free and clear. All the evidence they got is some eye witness accounts by some crazy people. Not much of a case.”
Michael nodded and sat down beside me on the couch. Mr. Landry took that as his cue to leave, telling me he would check on me later that afternoon.
I almost couldn’t bring myself to look over at Michael. “How uh-are you doing?” I asked.
Michael released a long breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, I guess. I mean, I keep going over and over it in my head, and even though I know I should feel bad or something, I don’t. That woman I…the one who had the gun to your head and was going to make you eat that pretzel…I just couldn’t let her do that. And the other one, that crazy-looking guy, he was just spraying the crowd of people with that mp5 like they were nothing more than cardboard cutouts…”
I closed my eyes and leaned my head against his chest as he pulled me into his arms.
“Is that bad?” Michael asked, his voice hardly a whisper. “Is it bad that I don’t feel bad about it?”
I lifted my head and looked at him, drowning in the deep brown of his eyes, my heart breaking over the tragedy that was his love for me. “No,” I said. “No, th-that’s good.”
Chapter 83
Joe
A funeral was held the following Saturday for those who died at The Family Ranch. Members of Heaven’s Temple who did not reside at the ranch paid for it. Despite the fact that Mr. Landry told me it was unwise to go, he didn’t stop me as I slipped on a black dress that morning and headed out my door.
He knew why I had to be there. Or better yet, who I had to be there for.
We did agree that Michael had to stay behind though, since too many people had claimed to see a “strange man” with me on the day of the disaster. I thought that meant I would need to go to the services alone, but as I stepped out onto the apartment landing, Mr. Landry’s door opened, and I saw that he was wearing a suit.
He didn’t say a word, just held an elbow out to me, and I slipped my arm through his.
When we got to the burial site, I was shocked at the amount of people who had gathered. Nearly all the survivors from the ranch were present, and so were a couple hundred other people whom I didn’t know. My heart stalled as we pulled up in Mr. Landry’s Towncar and I saw the crowd gathered there.
“We don’t have to go,” Mr. Landry said. “I think you’ve done enough for these people.”
“It’s nuh-not for them,” I said.
He nodded, and we climbed out of the car. It only took about five minutes for me to regret my decision, however, as countless eyes fell on me, looks of hatred coming over the faces of the people I passed. It stung, I’m not going to lie, but to be honest, the feeling was kind of mutual. These were the people who had given Ron Reynolds his power. These were the cowards who would rather eat poison than think for themselves.
Honestly, forgive my foulness, but as far as I was concerned, they could all go fuck themselves.
Speaking of which, Kayla and Kyle were also at the funeral, and after the bodies were placed in the ground, they both approached me.
Kyle wrapped me up in his arms, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you for bringing her back,” he whispered. “Thank you so much, Joe. My mother’s not here, said she didn’t want to come because the…thing that happened at the ranch is still too fresh for her, but she told me to thank you too.”
I nodded and stepped back. Kayla came forward then, her eyes cast down to her shoes. “Joe,” she said. “I…I’m so sorry about what happened. Is there any way we can still be friends?”
A short laugh bubbled up my throat. I didn’t mean to, but it just came out. I took Mr. Landry’s arm then and walked away without answering. I was pretty sure the look on my face was answer enough.
“I’m proud of you,” Mr. Landry said as we walked away. “I know it ain’t easy for you to turn away from people.”
I shrugged and spoke in his head. “Honestly, I’d rather chew my own arm off than be friends with that girl again. She said…she said that I bring trouble wherever I go, as if betraying me wasn’t enough.”
“Well,” he said, his eyes trained somewhere in the distance, “we can’t all be so brave.”
I followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at. Who he was looking at. Across the graveyard, standing by a bearded man with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, striking green eyes stared back at me.
I froze in my tracks. My heart started thumping as Madison tugged on the bearded man’s hand, said something, and then began heading toward me. Mr. Landry released my arm and went to stand under the shade of an oak tree.
When she reached me, Maddie tilted her head back and looked up at me. Fresh tear tracks were still marking her face, but there was a look in her green eyes that somehow assured me that she would be okay. I’d seen that look before. I saw it every time I looked in the mirror.
I opened my mouth to say something. I didn’t know what, just something. I didn’t get the chance, though, because Madison wrapped her arms around me, and then I was scooping her up in my arms and holding her close.
Now the tears that wouldn’t come all day came. And she pulled back, her small hand wiping them from my face. “Don’t cry,” she said, her sweet little voice enough to make my tears flow all the more. “My mommy’s in heaven now, so you don’t have to cry. I bet it’s better there for her than it ever was for her here.”
I clenched my teeth hard against more tears. “I’m s-s-s-so sorry,” I said. “I tr-tried. I rrrreally tried.”
Madison shook her little head, and her small hand cupped my cheek. “Don’t be,” she said, and her green eyes darted around the graveyard at all the people heading back to their cars. “That’s more than the rest of these people did. That’s more than most people woulda done.”
“We’re nuh-not most p-people, Maddie.”
She smiled then, but there was a sadness in her green eyes that reflected the feeling in my soul. “No,” she said. “No, we’re not.”
Afterward
JOE
A month later, Michael and I are sitting on the couch in my living room, watching a movie and eating popcorn. My cell phone rings. I see it is a number I don’t recognize, and hit the button to silence it.
It goes to voicemail. Immediately after, it rings again. A familiar feeling swirls in my gut. This time, though I know I shouldn’t, I answer.
“Joe?” says a familiar little voice. “Joe? Is this you?”
I swallow. My heart is in my throat. I manage to speak past it. “Y-yes, Maddie,” I say, my voice sounding far away. “Wuh-what’s wrong?”
There is a sound like a whimper and then sniffles. “I need your help,” she says. “I need your help really, really bad.”
A WORD
FROM THE AUTHOR
Well, there you have it, my dear Readers. I do hope the second leg of Joe’s journey did not disappoint. At the very least, I hope this work will encourage you all to be free thinkers as much as possible. There is much going on in this country that needs to be addressed, and since the folks we’ve elected to handle stuff ain’t getting it done, the burden falls to us to raise our voices. The novel I intend to write next will speak to what I mean, so I’ll get off the soapbox now.
As usual, I’d like to ask you to share your thoughts with me, and with the world, by writing a review. This second book was moved ahead in production because of all the wonderful people who took the time to reach out to me with reviews, to send me emails, tweets and Facebook messages. I want to take a moment to thank those of you that did. You really made my day with those things. You rock my socks.
I’m going to assume that if you enjoyed this title, you’re wondering if and when there will be a third installment to the JOE SERIES. Well, I’m sure there will, and if you would like to see it happen sooner, you know what to do. I’ve got another series that needs attention, but I always try to order things based on what would be most appreciated by readers, ya dig?
Also, just as a side note, I’ve written a horror book I’m currently sitting on. If you were ever a fan of Stephen King-type horror, I think you’d like it. The question is, to self-publish, or wait to see if I can attract an agent’s attention with it? Well, if there are those of you that would be interested in this horror book, let me know and help me make up my mind. As I said, you Readers end up making a lot of decisions for me. Demand, and all that jazz.
Finally, thank you all so much. Your kindness and support of Joe has meant the world. Until next time, brothers and sisters, don’t go drinking no Kool-Aid.
~Heather (H. D.) Gordon
Acknowledgments
So many people deserve thanks. Thank you, Janice Gordon. You have been my biggest fan since I was just a little girl, scribbling poems out endlessly and making you listen to each one. You are the only person on this planet who has read every single piece I’ve ever written, and ensured me that what I do with the words is worth doing. I love you, mommy.
To Cyrus Gordon, thank you for telling me that I can succeed when it seems I can only fail. Thank you for loving me despite my manic, artistic ways and mood swings. Thank you for telling me to have patience, for telling me I am a master of the craft, despite the fact that I am far from that status. I love you, daddy.
To the rest of my family, thank you for your love and support. Ben, Hardjo, Muriel, Tyson, Gianna, Eyung Tris and Aunties and Uncles. A girl couldn’t ask for a better support system. You know I love you.
To the other indie authors who have supported me, shared my statuses, and reached out to someone swimming in the same sea. We need each other, and life is made better when we stick together. You guys are great friends to me and I love you.
To the bloggers who put up with me. Thank you. There are those of you who will read anything I give you, who will support me even when I get you last minute files and flimsy excuses. You ladies are amazing, and I really, truly would not be where I am without you. I love you all.
To the readers. I can’t thank you guys enough. When every publishing world door was closed to me, you all let me into your lives and accepted my way of telling stories. You all have always been on my side, and damn if I don’t owe you the world for it. I love you guys.
And finally, to my daughters, Soraya and Akira. You are the reason I do everything. I’ll do my best to make sure that no doors, publishing world or otherwise, are ever closed to you. I’ll go to the moon and back. Thank you for just being. I love you oceans.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
H. D. Gordon is the amazon bestselling author of THE ALEXA MONTGOMERY SAGA, THE SURAH STORMSONG NOVELS, and THE JOE KNOWE SERIES. She is a poet at heart; a true lover of words. When she is not reading or writing, she is raising her two beautiful daughters and spending time with family. She is twenty-five years old and lives in the northeastern United States.
Connect with H. D.
Website: hdgordonbooks.com
Email: [email protected]
Twitter: @hd_gordon
www.facebook.com/HDGordonauthor