Devour

Chapter 35 - Dax

We have dinner with Emma's parents then our handlers show up to take us back to our homes or the barracks. I don't even talk to Christine the whole way back. She's fine with that. I don't care. I'm angry and upset about everything but suddenly my ruined affair seems minor compared to my dad's missing body.

He's not dead.

That means he's alive. He's alive and he left us. But why wouldn't he? If he got the chance to leave these chains why wouldn't he? There's no way he would risk being caught again if he were free how can I blame him?

I wind up in my room, pacing and staring at the walls. Saturday night. Fun. Fun. Fun. So many people out tonight and I'm not out and suddenly it all doesn't matter. I've never saved the ones I love. They all died. And now Errol isn't dead. He's not dead if there was no body so where did he go? Why didn't he take me? Take one of us, any of us with him?

A knock on my door interrupts my thoughts. I assume it's Christine come back to tell me to stop being so sullen and come home with her. But it's not.

"Fancy a drink?" Pippa asks, holding up a tracer to pair to my trackers so she can take me out for a walk.

"I'm underage."

"I'm not."

"Let's go."

We wind up at a quiet pub not far from the barracks, picking at chips and sipping our pints slowly. I don't like the taste of beer, but I don't mind going to sleep after one so it's all right.

"I didn't thank you properly for the other night," Pippa says.

"It's---kind of me," being amazing. Like Rose told me. 

"I saw Christine isn't going to be your handler anymore," she says.

"Yeah, you looking to adopt?" I ask, dryly.

"I can't. I'm still in training for another six months I can't be permanent which is rotten I think we could have fun together," she says, "I did ask while you were still in school if it wouldn't be all right but they said no."

"What did your dad say about that?" I ask, amused.

"Daddy was miserable about it he's ridiculous he doesn't like me being a handler at all but I don't care what he thinks. Also he doesn't like me around boys but I explained to him that our relationship is tall nerd girl holding small cinnamon roll's hand," she says as though that makes sense. It makes me laugh anyway.

"Okay, it doesn't matter," I say.

"Yes, it does, you need someone who will let you out now and again and you see I don't have hobbies," she says, "So while I am on call while I train it isn't the same as being somebody's permanent handler. But anyway let's talk about you. You look sad tonight."

"I am---thinking about a lot of things," I say, "Just a lot. Nothing I can even talk about because---I don't know what to say."

"All right then, I perfectly understand I'll try to be silent but I'm not very good at it I'm afraid I talk all the time it's one of my worst habits next to chewing on the tops of pens and never having an umbrella and liking doing dangerous things," she says.

"That last one is important."

"I suppose," she says, intentionally being silent and poking a chip.

"Can I be a bother and ask to be walked to church tomorrow? I have got a note someplace," I say. My mother wrote out all these forms that said that I required religious accommodations and I would need to be allowed time for church.

My mother was an atheist.

My father was an atheist.

My mother thought her quiet, gentle little boy would like sitting on his own reading quietly for two hours every Sunday. My mother was quite right. When I was little Miss Cora would read me devotion stories which I loved because it was just me and her and it was quiet and I'd snuggle up next to her while she read aloud to me. Then later on when I was big enough to read on my own I got to 'meditate' or pray and read what I liked and I always took the time to sit quietly. I did try to read the religious texts as well because that was before I got my parents belongs and got to learn they were atheists.

None of my siblings were of the same religion as the one my mum put down (I think she put down an intentionally obscure one) so I always got to be alone.

I haven't been to church in four years. Suddenly I need to sit very quietly and think, though.

"I'll be happy to walk you I don't care about a note even though I'm supposed to---what church?"

"I've no idea---a nice quiet one I suppose," I say.

"I'll look tonight and pick one, a long walk good?"

"A long walk would be lovely."