Instinct

32. Everything Will Be Okay

Tired laughter filled the night, and they continued on in broken bouts of arguing, heckling, conversation and amicable quiet. Brennan’s legs burned despite the lazy pace the group was travelling at. Even dragging in a breath pulled on muscles he didn’t even really realize he had.

“Hey, all I’m saying is, I don’t think they understand what’s going on with the rest of us down here on planet earth.”

“What’s that?” Brennan asked.

“Yeah, what the hell are you on about this time?”

“Shut your trap Bower, you know what the hell I’m talking about.”

“Don’t tell me what I know.”

“Really guys?” an exasperated voice interjected. “He’s talkin’ about all those lucky people at the top, advocating for us and shit. And you may be dumb as a sack of potatoes but I think you’re right.”

“‘Course I’m right. As I was saying, they’re sitting up there looking pretty and talking a pack but I don’t think they get it. What’s their names? Freaking, I dunno, those Armstrongs and that Hall kid.”

Brennan faltered in his step at that.

“I was just think that maybe, if they came down from their pedestals and took a step away from New York, then they might know what’s going on for real with the rest of us. ‘Cause it ain’t as pretty as they’re making it out to be. It just takes the focus out of the whole thing.”

“You don’t think they’ve been through a lot?” Brennan asked.

“Well, sure, but that was then – this?”

Brennan watched as a vague shadow of a man spread his arms and spun around, gesturing out at the fields that would have been surrounding them, had there been any light.

“This is now. I get home, my kids are already sleeping, my wife’s waiting up and I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow.”

“And then you gotta get up before them and do it all again,” someone chimed in.

"So? A lot a people have that kinda life."

"Yeah but do they gotta worry about being shot just 'cause? Do they hafta wonder whether their kids'll be able to go to school for much longer? People see your damn drivers licence when they card ya and they get spooked, toss you out on your ass.

“How can people like them relate to it? They can’t. That’s all I’m saying. Longer they focus on the past, on that damned Facility and what scandalous things that Armstrong girl did when she was a middle-schooler, the worse it’s gonna get without anyone doing a goddamned thing about it.”

"It could be worse, brother."

“Amen.”

Brennan didn’t have anything to say about that. Truthfully, he didn’t have an argument for them. The longer he was stuck in this dead-end job, the more he became disillusioned with the whole thing. Even though sometimes he supposed it was better than being unemployed and watching the news all day.

Anything was better than listening to those awful newscasts on a loop.

Half an hour later, they reached the main road. Arid desert stretched out around them, cut straight through by cracked tarmac. Brennan’s old pickup was waiting, abandoned by the side of the road alongside some of the others’ rides.

“Anyone need a lift?” He asked.

A dozen varied answers came back as people got into vehicles. Ending up with two people in his truck, Brennan pulled out onto the road and started them into town.