Another Unoriginal Oneshot Book

The Burned Man Walks

New Canaan, November 2277.

-

"And he hopped all day, and then he hopped all the way up—!" The puppet flew to the top of the makeshift stage. "And all the way down, down, in a big hole." The puppet crashlanded out of sight, thunking dully on the wooden floor.

"Continue."

"And he said..." She took a deep breath, peeking over the top of the crate. "OOOOOOOWWWWW!"

"Is the frog me, Hope?"

"No? The frog is Ooble."

"Well, I identify."

"Shhhh!"

"Sorry."

"And he took a biggest longest hop, and he hopped out of the hole!" The puppet hopped back into view, arcing down to rest flopped on the crate. "And his mommy said, 'You did it! You hopped out the hole!' And he said 'Please' and 'Thank you.' And took a picture."

"Naturally."

"But then he saw... a deathclaw!" A kangaroo puppet appeared alongside the frog.

"This is horrible."

"It wanted to take his shoes and eat him up!"

"Oh no. What will Ooble do?"

Hope peeked her head up from her hiding place, excited. "Don't be scared, Joshua. It's just a story. Okay?"

"You have me worried."

She crawled out from behind the table, puppets forgotten. "Hold my hand?" she offered. He took it. The contact was uncomfortable, but not unbearable. Hope was teaching him to live with his pain, little by little.

"Thank you," he said. "I feel much better now."

"You feel like some soup?" she prompted innocently.

"What, you're hungry? Your grandmother gave you breakfast before she left."

"That was seven hours ago!"

It had been two, but Joshua chuckled and got her some soup, because he was incapable of refusing his grandniece anything. She was a kinder tyrant than Caesar had been, and with less blood in her wake. Joshua loved her.

She reminded him of someone else, too. A boy. Maybe it was more sentiment than substance. She was much younger than he had been; her smiles and her trust were bestowed more freely; her eyes were brown where his had been blue. But they had that same light in their eyes, the same kind heart, the same hunger for Joshua's approval. (And yes, that light had grown dim over the years, and the boy's kind heart had bled at the atrocities around him, and the hunger had died in the end, but it was over now. Joshua wasn't going to make those mistakes again.)

They ate midmorning soup together, and Joshua forgot to remind Hope to roll up her sleeves, so she got covered in soup and spent ten minutes picking out a new shirt. A productive morning by Joshua's standards, though he never found out what happened to Ooble.

-

The door opened and slammed downstairs. Heavy-booted footsteps approached, putting Joshua on alert. He heard Daniel's voice and relaxed.

"What is it?" he asked, entering the entryway. "Hope is napping."

"Are my parents home?" Daniel asked, clipped. He adjusted his hat nervously. Didn't take it off, though, which meant he didn't plan on staying.

"No."

"Naomi's here, though?"

"No, it's just me."

Daniel's face morphed into a strange look. "Just you and Hope?"