Pamela Clay's Story

Chip was a natural at the bow when they started training in the wilderness and now in some ways he was surpassing Pamela. He was hitting moving targets square in the "sweet spot" for a quick death, because nothing was more heart wrenching than a small animal crying in pain. Pamela and Chip spent most of the last two weeks in the wilderness and she loved it. Pamela didn't have to deal with her dad dying, her mom being a tyrant, or any of the town's remedial shit. Her only job was to keep this young boy on a good path. In a way Pamela was getting the family of her own that she always dreamed about. But Pamela was well aware of the rules in Dust about adoption: a child can only be adopted by a stable family, a stable family being defined as two parents. Chip would never be hers unless she found a man she didn't want to kill. There was really only one man in the entire town of Dust that she could see herself with. Pamela told him a few months ago of her feelings for him but he was in a bad place and didn't/couldn't/wouldn't reciprocate. It was embarrassing and it broke her spirit. You can say that Pamela wouldn't be the tyrannical duplicate of her mother if it wasn't for that. Even though Pamela was always more demanding and like her mother, Dana and Pamela were a lot more similar back in the day. Chip brought her back to that. She needed that little brat. She didn't want a son but Chip needed a parent figure and she could adopt him as a little brother...right? She had so many questions that she did not know the answers to.

It was the sound of a gunshot that brought her back to reality.

"Was that a-"
"Yes, Chip," Pamela instinctually held the ten year old closer to her, "it was...which means someone is mad, someone is in trouble, and Noah may be dead." Chip seem to only own a handful of expressions. It was quite hilarious really but now he showed one that even Pamela has never seen...it was fear. He wore every emotion he had right on his face. Pamela knew that was something she would have to teach out of him because in Dust your emotions may get you killed. "We need to go," Pamela took Chip's hand and they made their way back to Dust.

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Pamela stopped walking when they reached the town an turned to face Chip. "I want you to go to my house and stay with my mother," Pamela rustled her fingers through his dark hair, "she is pretty scary at first....and at second...but she loves children so tell her I sent you." Chip nodded his little head, gave Pamela a hug that might have been too long for normal people, and scurried off to the Clay household. Once Chip was out of her sight Pamela felt the old her returning. Noah decided to let the newcomers stay and someone shot him for it; that much she could guess. Pamela made her way to the guard quarters because one of them would be able to tell her the full story. When she arrived she saw him leaving. He didn't see her because he was preoccupied and seemed out of it. Pamela, in that moment, forgot why she was going to the guards to begin with and ran up to Aaron Sullivan, the only man in Dust she did not want to kill.

"Sully," Pamela stopped in front of him, looking him square in the eye sockets, "I need your help with something."

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"No, you know what? I'll be damned if you have the audacity try to put the least bit on me. I don't need you to tell me a goddamn thing because I know one thing: of all my short comings and screw ups, I sure as hell did not deserve this. And you're right, nothing you can say or do will make what you did okay."

Evanne gave a groan of annoyance. It wasn't coming out how she wanted it to. And he was right. "God, no. I'm not putting the blame on you. I swear." She stood up, shaking her head. "This was all my stupid fault. I'm so sorry." Tears were threatening to overcome her, but she wouldn't let them show. She didn't deserve to cry in front of him.

She bit her lip as he continued. He was shouting now. She forced herself to look at him. She wouldn't look away until he was finished. She deserved it. Well, maybe not all of it.

"I did NOT flaunt Evelynn!" Evanne couldn't help but shout. "I tried to make this easy for everyone. I tried to make this easy on you. I didn't talk to you because I thought you hated me. Thank you for going after me but I needed to leave. I found myself out there. I learned what kind of person I didn't want to be." She told him.

The blonde watched as he turned his back on her and started walking out, well not without trying to get the last word. "I won't ever... be able to understand, how you could ever do something so twisted. Now... if you know what's best for your little family now, you'd run off to your boyfriend, keep him out of my sight, and take care of your bastard child." It wasn't the 'bastard' part that pissed her off. It was the 'boyfriend' part.

She stomped out after him. "You know, you were my first. I love you and I will always love you. But we were never perfect together. We tried to be, but that didn't make things so. And he's NOT my boyfriend. I don't even know if I want him as my boyfriend. All I know is that I'm trying to make things right with you." She told him. "I know you it will probably never happen, but I want to try to make things right."

Evanne stopped short when she saw Pamela came up and said, "Sully, I need your help with something."

Sighing, she shook her head. This wasn't the best time to talk to him. She should let him cool off. She wrung her hands. "I'm... sorry. Just don't leave town. Come and find me when you are able... We do need to talk." She looked at Pamela, realizing that her shirt and portions of her skin were covered in blood. "Noah's going to be okay... as long as he doesn't push himself too fast. And as long as no one else tries to attack him. It was Bobby Kentwood. Aaron can tell you more. He helped take him down."[/b] And with that she walked off. She stopped by her home and changed out of her clothes into a pair of jeans and a new shirt. She rinsed herself clean then walked back to the medical hut.

Evanne sighed when she saw Ris holding the sleeping Evelynn. If she only knew who her father was, she wouldn't be so happy to hold her. "Hey... Thanks for taking care of her... I can take her if you want to go get some sleep... or if you want to go see Noah... I'm not sure if he wants to see me."

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This was the most exercise Ginny had gotten since they arrived in Dust. And Ginny was definitely feeling it. She held Wren to her chest, trying not to jostle her as she hurried along. But she had to stop short when they were stopped my two men. "Hey! Get your hands off my husband and child!" She shouted at them when she saw the man grab Owen's arm and tussle Micah. The newborn started to cry. That was enough to get her energy back. Sure, Owen and Robin were scary. Hell, Robin got into fights a lot so he was very scary. But there was a reason why Robin and Ginny stopped wrestling when they were kids. Robin would end up hurt. And Ginny was not afraid to hold back. Especially when it meant protecting her family. From Kitty to Tigeress in point five seconds.

Ginny moved past her brother and husband so she was standing very near the men. "Now, there's no reason to threaten these men, Robin." She smiled a little too brightly at the men. "Because these gentlemen are going to escort us home. Isn't that right boys? Because it would be pretty pathetic not to help a family with newborns and a woman who just gave birth, less than a week ago, home, wouldn't it?" She said coolly, looking in between the men.

"In fact, you would be doing this town a favor, wouldn't you? I mean our leader just got shot, standing up for us. How would it look if the town found out that you let something happen to the family he was willing to die for to protect? That would be like you not having any respect for your leader. Might even be a reason for punishment... or worse... banishment. And you wouldn't like it outside the walls of Dust... trust me. It's not for the faint of heart." She said sweetly.

Ginny looked back at her husband and then Robin, checking to make sure they were okay. "Now, if you'd be so kind to help us back to our home..." She turned back to the men looking at their worn clothes and their patchy shoes. "I might even be willing to patch your clothes, and even mending your shoes. You don't have anyone around here who works on and makes shoes, do you? It just so happens that my parents taught myself and my brother to do just that. That would be an asset to Dust, don't you think?

Aaron "Sullivan"

"Sully, I need your help with something," Pamela interrupted.

"I'm... sorry. Just don't leave town. Come and find me when you are able... We do need to talk," Evanne said, walking out of the room.

"No we don't," Aaron thought to himself. Taking a deep breath, the former town guard pressed his hair back with his hand. He turned to Pamela, his eyes piercing Pamela with anger no one had ever seen come from him.

"You better make this damn good, Pamela. The apocalypse better be happening again," Aaron answered, almost as a threat. Whether or not Pamela needed him, Aaron did need to go outside, and began heading for the exit to the building. He passed Jim, who decided not to follow because Pamela was accompanying Aaron. The family man figured that Pamela could handle herself, and probably Aaron too.

Once Aaron got outside the guard's post, he began walking swiftly towards the residential areas of Dust. In his mind, he had formulated a plan of what he was going to do for the next few days. He He hadn't even bothered to check if Pamela was still following him.

Evanne begging Aaron not to leave town was Pamela's first hint that something was off. Aaron was still majorly butt hurt about the Evanne and Evelyn situation but Pamela thought that he was over it by now. There was a high chance that Evelyn was Aaron's daughter, seeing as he and Evanne dated before she ran off like a scared bitch with her tail between her legs. But honestly Pamela would put money on it that Luke was the father. Luke is a whore, Evanne is a whore...and it made sense to Pamela.

But once Pamela saw Sully's face she knew something more was wrong. She's never seen anyone this angry before, and she's seen her mother angry a few times. Pamela was set on asking Aaron to adopt Chip with her and act as his guardians until he was older but now after seeing Aaron...she couldn't. Not here. Not while he was this upset. He stormed off in his rage and walked, pretty flippin' quick, through the town of Dust. The small shacks that the folks called home whizzed past as Aaron and Pamela went through. Pamela was nearly jogging to keep up with him. She was not happy with Aaron for making her do all of this work just to talk to him but...he was pissed and she felt obligated. She kind of loved him as much as her stupid sister loved Noah, and like Dana, she has never told him. As they walked Pamela tried speaking calmly, as calmly as one could speak while speed walking in the desert, but Aaron seemed to be not having it. Was he ignoring her or was he just so deep in his own shit that he couldn't hear her? Even if she had feelings for the bookworm she refused to let anyone treat her this way.

Pamela grabbed Aaron's left shoulder and spun him around, hard and fast. She stared him down and her next words came out harsher than she would have liked, "What the fuck is your problem?"

Aaron "Sullivan"

"What the fuck is your problem?""

The former town guard was spun to face his pursuer, to which he only found to be a nuisance. His stare was even colder than just a few moments ago in the guards' post. His eyes pierced like an arrow through Pamela's gaze upon him.

"I said, another apocalypse better be fucking happening, and it seems like it's not," Aaron said. He tried to keep the fluctuation of his voice under control, as if a tiny poke at him would send him bursting in a hellish fury. Pamela wasnt used to the sass of the townspeople anymore it seemed. She stood there, a hand on Aaron's shoulder, in silence for a few moments. Playing "Mom" to Chip has made her softer around the edges...but she needed to toughen up if she was going to get what she needed out of Aaron.

"You continue to speak like that to me and I swear to God you are going to wish the apocalypse was here," Pamela would not let Sully make a child of her. She was ready to toss back whatever he threw at her. She moved her hand from his shoulder, down his arm, and to his hand. She held it gingerly and spoke calmly, "you must tell me what is going on with you. Noah was shot right? You wouldnt be this upset because of just that. I know you, Sully."

"You must tell me..." the words echoed in Aaron's mind. While Pamela went to make a romantic gesture, her resonating authoritative figure detered him. Still, he considered her actions a bit carefully, and considered the words he was about to speak even more so. Finally, he withdrew his hands and stood more straightly.

Pamela expected him to pull his hand away but that did not stop Aaron's miniscule action from having a major effect on her. She tried to keep her face stuck on whatever position it held before so he didnt notice. She knew she was doing a decent job when he continued speaking.

"Hey, I have an idea, since you're so interested in the town's order and all," Aaron proposed; his sarcasm was evident though. And in an instant, that facade of sarcasm was obliterated. "Why don't you go down to the Medhut and make sure that Noah's okay? Because I'm sure that when the town realizes just how much of a blundering dumbfuck he is, the next bullet won't miss. And then we'll see what revolution we have."

Pamela couldnt help but scoff a little at the idea of the town realizing that their leader was indeed a dumbfuck, blundered to add. All humor left when Aaron mentioned another sort of attack on him though. Pamela wondered if Aaron was planning anything but she quickly dropped the thought. Aaron wouldnt...would he? She got the hint though; he wanted her gone. "Thats the best idea I've heard all day," she responded with an equal amount of sarcasm, "My first idea was to ASK THE FUCKING TOWN GUARD what happened, but I guess that was a silly thought. I apologise for being so rational."

"Actually," Aaron replied, his tone going back to the menacing anger he had when he started this conversation, "it is a pretty damn silly idea, considering I just quit." His stare went cold again as he took a step back; there was somewhere else he wanted to be. And he wanted to leave now. So he began to turn and walk, leaving the sight of Pamela Clay behind him.

This town is going to shit, Pamela thought before turn and walk away. She scratched the idea of having Sully adopted Chip with her...it was never going to happen. Pamela decided to take his advice though and go to the Med Hut to unravel this nuisance of a mystery. "Goodbye, Aaron," she spoke, probably too sofly for him to hear. The goodbye meant a lot more than just that one meeting. They were done. They had to be.

Evanne nodded to Risalda as she walked through. She figured it was better to keep her mouth shut then begin to try and apologise again. She's just make things worse. She smiled at Ris and watched her leave as she tucked Evanne in. And that's when Noah started to speak.

"Evanne, Evelyn. Thank God you're here. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for what I said. I didn't mean it, I swear. I-" She met his gaze as he broke off. He was looking at Evelyn. She looked down at their daughter too. She smiled lightly. The little girl was still asleep. Evelyn could sleep through just about anything. She gave her a peck on the forehead before she moved over to fix his blankets around him. It may be hot in the desert during the day, but temperatures dropped at night.

Seeing a grin appear on his face along with him getting out the words, "I'm glad you came back" Evanne couldn't help but smile at him.

"Of course I came back... You know it's an impossibility for me to stay angry at you for long." Evanne told him softly. She sat down on the edge of his cot and pulled up the edge of his bandage since she could see blood on it. He had mostly stopped bleeding and his stitches looked okay, but she went ahead and put a new bandage on him. "I'm glad you're not in the mood for yelling. I think I've had just about enough of people yelling at me." She told him.

The blonde met his gaze again and smiled. "You don't have to be sorry for what you said, but thank you." She ran a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it down some, how he liked it most of the time. "I should have told you the moment I got back... It's no excuse, but I just couldn't make the words come out. It never seemed to be the right time to drop the 'congratulations it's a girl' drama on you." She told him honestly.

"I didn't want you to think that I had just used you or something... because I do love you, Noah. I was never going to keep you out of her life." Evanne said honestly, watching him. "She knows who you are and all about you... Most of the time, she falls asleep to stories about you." She admitted with a blush.

Evanne gulped, suddenly feeling as if her mouth was dry. Adrenaline still seemed to be pumping through her blood, first from the shooting, then from the fight with him, then the fight with Aaron, and now this. She cupped his cheek carefully. She could only imagine what he was feeling and going through. "I wish I had just stayed... I'm so sorry... I swear I'm never leaving again... I'll never take Evelyn away from you..." Tears came to her eyes again. She had never been one to cry but apparently she was tonight. "I don't deserve your forgiveness or love and I understand if you can't trust but I hope one day you can. I'll do whatever it takes to make this up to you..."

She looked down at him. She knew she shouldn't. He was vulnerable and on drugs. But like that night they shared together, she was vulnerable just like him. The only one who could help her was him. She leaned down, kissing his lips gently. If he wanted to pull away, she's let him.




Yeah, it didn't really need to be said, but Ginny could turn on her husband in many ways. Sometimes it was just her fiery personality, putting an ass hat in their place that did it. She could tell by the glint in his eye he had gone from wanting to fight to wanted to pin her against a wall. Had she not been so exhausted from the twins and haven given birth so recently, she might had been up for it. She have him as mischievous smirk before turning away and following the shyer of the two men to their little home. "Thank you so much for walking us home." She told him sweetly.

Ginny stepped inside first as the boy held open the door for her. She pretty much knew her way around so she easily put Wren in her crib and moved away to turn on their gas lamp. She turned back to the man and smiled at him. "I'm Ginny Thompkins. This is my husband, Owen, and our twins Wren and Micah, and my brother Rob Braddock." She told him, pointing out each of the members of her family. "Please have a seat and I'd be more than happy to look at your shoes." She told him, point him to the rocking chair as she took a seat on her and her husband's mattress. She sighed at the comfort of being able to rest her sore back and feet. "Feel free to let any of your friends know that we'll be happy to repair their shoes as well. I'm hoping to gather up some more supplies so we can do this for the whole town." She said smiling at him.

She looked over at Owen. Even though she was tired, she knew her family needed this. Owen would plant crops, but if they wanted to be needed by the people of Dust they needed to have an angle. And Ginny could make amazing clothes and shoes. The sandals that she had been wearing the last half of her pregnancy were unlike many had seen in years. Her swollen feet wouldn't fit into her boots. She was perfectly happy in her sandals. They might not be good for hard labor, but for what she did, they were perfect.

"Do you know anywhere I could get some leather and maybe some unusable tires?" She asked the boy.

Dust was quiet for the next four days. The usual gossip that circulated between Dusties was silenced with the wind; it seemed futile and childish to spread rumors, whether they were true or not. There was a hushed way about the people as they soaked up the tragedy of Patrick Clay and his terribly mislead daughter, Dana. Perhaps it was because no one really knew what to say or because there was still tension regarding the newcomers, but no one looked each other in the eyes.

In a series of about twenty days Dust had been turn up side down and shaken sideways. Some of its people were caught off guard and fell, while the rest of them held on for dear life. Most of the original Dusties would argue that this was because of the newcomers. Others would stand to say it was because of the unchanged communism of the town. Dust had been a thriving settlement for close to thirty years with no changes or exceptions to the rules, yet its people were crumbling beneath the pressure. There were many unanswered questions that zoomed through the heads of the town, but no one dared to ask them, not in a time like this.

The silence of the people was unbroken as the settlement soberly set up Patrick Clay’s funeral. In the center of town was a platform decorated with a red velveteen skirt and a collection of classically Patrick Clay items scattered on the foreground. There was a Polaroid of him with a young Pamela on his knee and an even younger Dana on his shoulders in a black frame. Along the edges were dried flowers, pale pink and yellow pedals that had been collected over the past two months for this sole purpose. Imbedded in the stale blossoms and stems were little trinkets and books that were Patrick’s, and at least a dozen Playbills.

It was late morning when the service started and every person in Dust was there. Most people brought their own chairs and a few stragglers stood in the back or sat on the ground. There was no official priest and no official words, but there was a long line of people who wanted to say something.

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Juniper stood in the back with her arms crossed and frown present on her face. If it wasn’t enough that Noah got shot, Juni had to come back to this mess. Evanne was sitting at the edge of the crowd in a rusty wheelchair and as pale as apiece of paper. It didn’t take long for Juniper to put the pieces together. The whole thing disgusted her; she had even seen and spoken with Dana in the wilderness just yesterday! That bitch couldn’t even confess to what had happened; she had just told Juni and Aaron that she needed some air.

“Unbelievable.” Juniper muttered to herself, thinking about Dana, as she watched Marina Freeds tearfully express her gratitude for Patrick. In any other given circumstance Juniper would have taken her turn up there and said that Patrick was like a father to her, but she just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Juniper looked up into the clear blue sky, the pasty sun beamed down on the tired town of Dust. She should have been grieving like the rest of the people, but she was boiling inside. This was just another thing she would suppress until further notice. She had been unbelievably honest with Aaron out in the wilderness, but she had also been harsh and unsympathetic.

Juniper’s mind wandered just as her eyes did, checking in on everyone. Diane Clay sat at the front as unmoved as a statue, and Pamela was unseen by Juni. Noah was also toward the front, pale, but moving around fine. Evanne looked like death and her baby Evelynn was being looked after by her mother. At the other edge of the crowd were the Thompkins, Owen was wringing a hat uncomfortably while his wife held one of their children, the other baby was tucked away in a large weaved basket. Robin of course was the first person she had found, but she saved him for last. Her eyes scanned him up and down before returning to the funeral. Now Carlos Manch was taking his stand, all the words that were spoken by the last five people meshed together and became white noise to Juniper.

“Dammit,” she said, finally bringing everything in her head to a halt. This made a couple of Dusties turn around with annoyed faces, then they returned to the service without much mind.

The last four days has been a nonstop hellish roller coaster. It took nearly twenty-four hours for Evanne to even wake up. After that, she was in and out of consciousness until the night before. She spent the whole night thinking about everything that had happened. And the last words Patrick said to them echoed through her head on a loop. She knew she needed to speak at the funeral. They needed to know what he wanted them all to do.

After the last speaker finished, she nodded to the man who had been nice enough to help wheel her to the funeral and now to the front. Evanne watched the casket as they near it until he turned her way to face everyone. Her blue eyes searched the faces of her fellow Dustians.

"We..." The blonde paused. Her voice was a whisper. She coughed to clear her throat. "We lost the father of Dust. And no one can deny the good he did. But even in his last moments he had a new lesson for us. 'You have to do better than us.'" She let the words sink in. Would they understand, like she hoped she did, the lesson he needed to pass on?

"I intend to do just that..." She looked at the picture of Patrick. A shaky sigh escaped her breath. "Thank you for everything, Patrick." She said more to herself than anyone else. She nodded to Jamie, the man helping her, and let him wheel her off. Evelyn slipped down from Mrs. Remmington's lap and hurried over to her mother. With her unarmed arm, she helped her daughter into her lap. She didn't mind her daughter using her as a jungle gym. Evelyn was perhaps the only thing in these last few days that made her feel like she was still alive.

Evelyn wrapped her arm around her mother's neck. Evanne hugged her back with her unharmed arm. She whispered soothing words to her daughter and didn't meet anyone's eyes. She felt like a fish out of water. Even when she came back to Dust with her daughter, she could handle it. She came back for Noah. Hell, she came back to beg forgiveness from Aaron.

Now, she felt so alone. It wasn't anyone's fault really. She had been isolated from everyone to heal. She didn't even think she was healing too well. It would take awhile, yes, but something was wrong. Slowly, her hand closed into a fist then slowly opened. She watched her hand do this. And yet, besides the ache in her arm, she didn't feel it. Would it be like this forever? If there was nerve damage, there was the potential that she wouldn't have full function in her arm, let alone hand. If she couldn't manage, she'd have to relearn to do everything with her left hand.

Turmoil coursed through her veins. She wasn't just angry, she was scared. She may never be the same person she was before. Could anyone really be the same person after being attacked in that way? She didn't hate Dana, she pitied her. She did think Dana have some sort of punishment, but she didn't think she should be killed; even if that meant Evanne may never be safe or have peace of mind.

As Noah sat in the second row, he couldn't help but contrast the funerals of his parents from the spectacle of weeping and wailing surrounding him. Not even half the people had shown up to either his mother's or his father's, and he and Luke had been the only ones to shed tears. Here, with Patrick Clay's body in the casket in the center of Dust, it seemed there was not a dry eye to be found. Noah could barely hold back vomit while Marina Freeds sobbed her words at the podium. His eyes bore into the back of Diane Clay's head, only one chair in front of him.

He was reminded how different their guidance was. Polar opposites, in reality. From the first day of Noah's training to become the leader, Diane had told him how little people could think for themselves as a group. According to her, they needed constant guidance and a firm hand to keep them from killing each other, accidentally or otherwise. Patrick, on the other hand, had said that good people like the ones in Dust just needed a mediator and protection from outside threats.

Noah had been the official leader of Dust for almost four years, and he still couldn't figure out which one of them was right.

When Evanne was wheeled up to the front, he bowed his head. He couldn't bear to look her in the eyes after what had happened, and he still wasn't sure what to do about it. He had only visited her in the Med Hut while she was asleep, and he couldn't stop himself from panicking every time he saw her. What he had done was visit Evelynn every day while she was In Martha Remmington's custody. They didn't talk about why he was visiting or why at times he would just stare at Evelynn and try to pick out which features came from whom. He didn't know if Martha, or Dust for that matter, was aware of Evelynn's parentage.

Brushing dirt off his arm sling, he tried not to listen to Evanne. Nonetheless, he heard every word. "'You have to do better than us,'" she announced as Patrick's last words.

Noah couldn't imagine doing better anymore. It was clear to him that they were--he was--doing so much worse.

Ginny hated funerals. They reminded her of burying her parents. Her mom died before she married Owen, but she had gotten to meet him at least. Her father performed the small ceremony for them. He had been so heartbroken after losing his wife that he died less than six months after her. It had been hard on Ginny to lose both of her parents in the same year. She had gone from a daughter to a wife to an orphan. After that, she felt a need to always protecting Robin.

Micah fussed in her arms as if he could sense everyone's distress. She hushed him, rocking him gently. She knew she was crying. She was very emotional these days. Her mother warned her that her heart would break more easily after she had children. She'd be fragile but strong. Her mother told her, "Though you may cry. That doesn't mean you aren't strong. It just means your heart has gotten bigger and sometimes you gotta let a little out." That was one of the last lessons her mother tried to teach her. She didn't know Patrick that well, but she knew he was a great man. Just the reaction from everyone had been enough to tell her. It never helped that she was a sympathetic crier as well.

In the past few days, a lot had been changing. Word got out that Ginny was a witch when it came to mending shoes. She had mended the boy's that night and made him a brand new pair because his were too small for his feet. After what seemed like a few hours of bargaining with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers, they traded her leather for two pairs of shoes. With the leather and a few other things, she found to use. She had made them each a pair before doing anyone else's.

Even with the grief all around town, someone would end up on their small door step to trade for mending or a new pair of shoes. She was already running low on supplies. At least now they would have more things to trade for more supplies.

There were still plenty of people who didn't trust them. But people seemed more willing to test them now. Ginny prayed it would last and they would not be blamed for this great man's death and kicked out. She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. "Poor Evanne... Everything seems to be going to hell." She whispered to her brother and her husband. They were close enough to hear everything but far enough away that they could whisper and no one would notice.

She looked through the crowd of mourning people. She caught Juniper looking at them. She nodded to her, hoping to convey some sort of sympathy. She turned back to the front. "Juniper made it back just in time for the funeral. I don't think she even knew what had happened. Maybe... you should talk with her." Ginny said to her brother.



Unknowingly Evanne had started crying. She only noticed when Evelyn touched a tear rolling down her face. "Mumma..." Evelyn said. Evanne tried to smile at her daughter. "Momma's okay." She promised her. She kissed her forehead lightly.

Thankfully, the funeral seemed to be breaking up. Most would probably go over to Mrs. Clay's home to give their sympathies. Evanne wasn't sure if she could handle that. She just wanted to go home, to her own bed and sleep. Or... just not think about anything. It hadn't been lost on her that Noah hadn't visited her or even looked her way when she was at the funeral. Did he hate her now? Her mother had mentioned that he had been spending time with Evelyn when she was helping her dress this morning. Her mother told her as more of a way to get information out of her than to tell her how sweet it was.

Evanne told her mother nothing. She looked at Jamie. "Do you think you could take us home, Mr. Jamie?" She asked him tiredly.

Mrs. Remmington was over by her side now. "Are you sure you want to leave yet? If so, that's fine. I have your room all made up." She held her arms out to take Evelyn but she just clung to her mother.

"I meant my home, mom. I'm ready to go back to my home." Evanne said softly.

Her mother scoffed. "You are unfit to live on your own this soon. You won't be able to take care of my granddaughter."

"I can manage just fine. I'll send word if I need help okay? Just..., please. Let us go." Evanne said, looking away from her mother. Her mother had handed down a lot of cruelty over the years. She knew if she gave her mother an inch she'd take a mile. And Mrs. Remmington was not getting a mile in her or her daughter's life. Jamie didn't move, unsure what to do.

There was not a second during the funeral that her daughter’s hand wasn’t firmly placed in her own. Diane sat quietly as the townspeople went up to her husband’s casket and spoke one after the other. Diane would squeeze Pamela’s hand every time someone came up and spouted shit from their face orifices. They called their fecal matter ‘condolences’ or ‘kind words’ about Patrick Clay. If one more person called him their father Diane was going to explode. Patrick was great at being the loving and kind head that people wanted to be around. That was how she fell in love with him to begin with. Patrick was the man of her dreams. He was a gift from the God that she no longer prayed to. After Delsis broke the world around her, Diane decided that Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John could shove it. If there was a God there wouldn’t have been a disease that nearly wiped out the entire planet. God. What a fucking joke.

The montage of crap was brought to a halt when a familiar blonde in a wheel chair was rolled up to Patrick’s casket. Diane squeezed her daughter in preparation for what was about to come out of this one. Evanne Remmington should have stayed far far away from Dust when she left the first time. It was people like her that made this town weaker…and now Dana was gone because of her. Diane knew that her younger child would have never done what she did if she raised her herself. Patrick’s kind hand wasn’t the kind that Dana was needing. She needed the firmest of hands and an even firmer regimen but instead she ran wild. Well, now she can run wild in the wilderness to her heart’s fullest content. Diane couldn’t admit to anyone how depressed she’s been feeling since the death of her husband and the unofficial death of her daughter, Dana. Diane knew that banishing someone into the wilderness was just as good as an execution itself. She should know; she created the law. Dana, if she was still alive, had two options: get smarter or die.

Evanne’s coughing was signal that it was beginning. Diane could almost guess what she was about to say; something about Patrick being the big grandpappy of Dust just like everyone else. Patrick called everyone and anyone younger than him his ‘child’ so they felt more comfortable bringing their problems to him so in turn everyone called him thought of him as ‘dad.’ Patrick had more kids than a Latter Day Saint these days. But, instead of focusing on all his other ‘children’ he should have kept his daughter out of trouble. Now she was banished from the town her parent’s created because her father was weak.

“We lost the father of Dust,” Evanne spoke softly, still on meds probably.

Oh here we go again.

Diane listened to what Evanne had to say and promptly put her words in her mental cabinet where everything else she didn’t care about collected dust. Pamela squeezed her hand, “I think it’s your turn, Mom.”

Diane stood up from her seat the only way she knew how to stand. Confidently. She paused at Patrick’s open casket and silently hoped that he was in a better place. If God were real then Patrick deserved the most luxurious heavenly suite. There were no one on this planet who deserved peace more than he did. The moment with her husband was short lived because she had to address the crowd. Diane turned to face her townspeople.

“Regardless of our different opinions on how this town should be run Patrick was a great man. All of you have said many kind words about him and it is highly appreciated by me and Pamela. I want to take this time while I have all of you here to focus on the last words Patrick Clay spoke. He wanted us all to do better than his generation and the ones that came before him. He wanted us all to do better than what we were already putting out because, quite frankly, even Patrick was aware that this town wasn’t doing what was needed of it.” Diane paused to look at the familiar and unfamiliar faces in the crowd. She stared for maybe a second too long at the newcomers and their twins.

She returned to her speech, “the first generation of Dust worked day and night to make sure that our children could survive in this desolate land. We made decisions that we are not proud of for the sake of the future of this town. We have made enemies high and low in order to secure safety for our people. Generation One had this fire because we were scared and pissed off. Patrick did not see the fire in this generation and that’s because it’s not there.”

Diane looked towards Luke, “this generation is too interested in having sex with everything with sexual organs.”

Diane looked at Juniper, “this generation is too interested in running away every time they have an issue instead of handling it.”

Diane looked at the newcomers, “this generation is too interested in blending in instead of daring to be the nail that gets the hammer. Want my advice? Instead of being the nail just become the hammer. No one else in this town seems to be taking that role.”

Diane switched her gaze to Noah at the end of her last sentence then continued, “This generation is too interested in having bastard children instead of leading their town.” Diane found Evelyn playing on her mother’s lap and frowned. That child would have an interesting future in store for her. She will either be hated because her mom was a slut or because her father was an unfit dictator.

Diane smiled and looked up at the crowd, “Patrick wants us all to do better than he and his generation did. Patrick was a great man and an even greater leader even if it was only from the background. Doing better than Patrick will be difficult. There is no tougher job in the world so I suggest you start. Thank you everyone for coming but the funeral is over. Go home.”