Jock, cutting off the next justification from Joey before he could offer it.
Joey quickly hid the anger that had flashed before Jock could see it. Not that there was much danger of him noticing, he hadn’t looked up once. Jock’s manner reminded Joey of the old Jock; the scowling creep who’d skulk around the Royal Mile, watching him. Watching over him as it had turned out. Lightening his tone, attempting something between cheeriness and seriousness, Joey continued.
“We could see Alys for a while too. Pass on some of the things we’ve learned out here. We do owe her, Jock. I owe her.”
Jock threw the bone he’d been working on into the fire. As he looked at Joey the fire between them danced in his eyes.
“I’ve been south before, Joseph. Bad…”
Jock stopped for a second and massaged his closed eyelids with his index fingers. When he looked up, he’d decided what to say.
“Bad people live there.”
Joey relaxed, confident that he could now convince Jock to go south.
“So what? There are bad people everywhere. We’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding them or chasing them away so far. We’re a great team, Jock.”
Shaking his head, Jock continued. “We… you’ve never met people like these. I’m not taking you anywhere near them. I don’t want to be anywhere near them.”
Joey had never heard Jock speak this way before. The padre was confidence and practicality personified. This just wasn’t him.
Joey stayed quiet for a few long moments. “Where are they, Jock? You know you’ll have to tell me.”
Jock had made a point over the years of reinforcing Joey with the notion that he wouldn’t be there for much longer to teach him how to survive; that he had to absorb as much as possible and learn the territory well enough to allow him to make a life, a safe life, when Jock was gone. “I’m nearly seventy, Joseph,” he’d say. “That’s an old man in this new world ruled by the dead.” Joey would laugh to lighten the mood and tell him he had plenty years left, but they both knew that it was wishful thinking.
The scavenging, the constant travelling, the fighting and the presence of sickness all around were aging him. He was slower, clumsy at times; he was getting forgetful and making mistakes. He was a young man trapped in an old man’s body and that body was beginning to fail him.
Jock considered the man Joey was becoming and knew that the kid would go south on his own once he’d passed on. He couldn’t let him go there blind of the dangers. Jock let out a long sigh.
“He calls himself Somna, thinks that he’s some sort of messenger from God.”
Joey leaned in closer to the fire, giving Jock his full attention.
“He…” Jock searched for the word, “worships, I suppose. He worships one of The Ringed, a man that used to be a celebrity.”
Seeing a look of confusion flash across Joey’s face, Jock explained.
“Celebrities were people who’d gotten famous for something; like an achievement of some kind or a skill, or just by being on TV. You remember I told you about TV?”
Joey nodded.
“Well, he’s got this Ringed who used to be a famous footballer. It’s in a pretty advanced stage, like those ones out there.” Jock indicated John and Evie out in the hall. “So he has this footballer who was a big hero to him when he was a kid, one of the most famous. This footballer was global. His face was everywhere, advertising all sorts of products. He had soccer academies and what-not as well, as I recall. Well, Somna, he… talks to him. Receives commands from this rotted corpse of a once famous athlete who’d been unlucky enough to be attending a fashion show in Edinburgh when the plague broke.” Jock raised his eyebrows, acknowledging how crazy it sounded.
“So, he’s just like that nutter we came across in Pilton. Him with the panda,” Joey laughed.
Jock snapped at him “No. He’s not like that man.”
Embarrassed at his own outburst he sat himself back
Joey quickly hid the anger that had flashed before Jock could see it. Not that there was much danger of him noticing, he hadn’t looked up once. Jock’s manner reminded Joey of the old Jock; the scowling creep who’d skulk around the Royal Mile, watching him. Watching over him as it had turned out. Lightening his tone, attempting something between cheeriness and seriousness, Joey continued.
“We could see Alys for a while too. Pass on some of the things we’ve learned out here. We do owe her, Jock. I owe her.”
Jock threw the bone he’d been working on into the fire. As he looked at Joey the fire between them danced in his eyes.
“I’ve been south before, Joseph. Bad…”
Jock stopped for a second and massaged his closed eyelids with his index fingers. When he looked up, he’d decided what to say.
“Bad people live there.”
Joey relaxed, confident that he could now convince Jock to go south.
“So what? There are bad people everywhere. We’ve done a pretty good job of avoiding them or chasing them away so far. We’re a great team, Jock.”
Shaking his head, Jock continued. “We… you’ve never met people like these. I’m not taking you anywhere near them. I don’t want to be anywhere near them.”
Joey had never heard Jock speak this way before. The padre was confidence and practicality personified. This just wasn’t him.
Joey stayed quiet for a few long moments. “Where are they, Jock? You know you’ll have to tell me.”
Jock had made a point over the years of reinforcing Joey with the notion that he wouldn’t be there for much longer to teach him how to survive; that he had to absorb as much as possible and learn the territory well enough to allow him to make a life, a safe life, when Jock was gone. “I’m nearly seventy, Joseph,” he’d say. “That’s an old man in this new world ruled by the dead.” Joey would laugh to lighten the mood and tell him he had plenty years left, but they both knew that it was wishful thinking.
The scavenging, the constant travelling, the fighting and the presence of sickness all around were aging him. He was slower, clumsy at times; he was getting forgetful and making mistakes. He was a young man trapped in an old man’s body and that body was beginning to fail him.
Jock considered the man Joey was becoming and knew that the kid would go south on his own once he’d passed on. He couldn’t let him go there blind of the dangers. Jock let out a long sigh.
“He calls himself Somna, thinks that he’s some sort of messenger from God.”
Joey leaned in closer to the fire, giving Jock his full attention.
“He…” Jock searched for the word, “worships, I suppose. He worships one of The Ringed, a man that used to be a celebrity.”
Seeing a look of confusion flash across Joey’s face, Jock explained.
“Celebrities were people who’d gotten famous for something; like an achievement of some kind or a skill, or just by being on TV. You remember I told you about TV?”
Joey nodded.
“Well, he’s got this Ringed who used to be a famous footballer. It’s in a pretty advanced stage, like those ones out there.” Jock indicated John and Evie out in the hall. “So he has this footballer who was a big hero to him when he was a kid, one of the most famous. This footballer was global. His face was everywhere, advertising all sorts of products. He had soccer academies and what-not as well, as I recall. Well, Somna, he… talks to him. Receives commands from this rotted corpse of a once famous athlete who’d been unlucky enough to be attending a fashion show in Edinburgh when the plague broke.” Jock raised his eyebrows, acknowledging how crazy it sounded.
“So, he’s just like that nutter we came across in Pilton. Him with the panda,” Joey laughed.
Jock snapped at him “No. He’s not like that man.”
Embarrassed at his own outburst he sat himself back
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