Safe Passage: Off the Grid by Wise Clay

Author:Wise, Clay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

16

“A clinic?”

“For cancer patients.”

“Ah,” I say, finally putting all the pieces together.

“That’s what the marijuana’s for,” Cayley says.

“Exactly. Pain management, among other things.”

“That’s amazing,” I say.

Avah, who had been standing by silently, just listening and observing, takes a step forward. “How many people do you have here?”

Genna looks at her, a warm expression on her face. “At last count, we have fifteen.”

“Are all of them patients?”

“Most of them, but not all,” she replies before looking up at the sun blazing down on us. “We should head inside. It’s hot out here. We can keep talking.”

I nod and signal Gino and Heather.

“You have quite the little crew,” Genna says, watching as they walk up to join us.

“We do. It didn’t start out that way, but it’s grown as we’ve been on the road.”

“For the better, I’m assuming.”

“Always,” I reply, looking at my companions.

“Come on. Let’s get something to drink and sit for a bit,” Genna says, and we start walking toward the house when she suddenly stops. “What about what was in the car?”

I nod and smile at her. “We have them in the truck.”

“Oh, good,” she says, the relief in her voice almost palpable.

“We really didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into,” I say as we climb the steps onto the porch.

Genna chuckles and smiles at us. “Yeah, I can see how you might be a little concerned.”

“But now that I see what you’re doing here. I’m glad we did it.”

“Me too,” she says, stepping over and opening the door for us.

Just before we enter the house, Avah stops and looks at Genna.

“Is Dylan your son?” she asks.

She looks at her for a moment, and then a smile breaks out on her face. “No,” she says with a laugh. “He’s someone who works here.”

“But he called you ‘mother.’”

“And so did Franklin.”

She shakes her head and sighs as we walk inside. “They all started calling me that as sort of a joke.”

“They didn’t sound like they were joking.”

“Did Dylan say he was scared about telling me about the car?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

She smiles and shakes her head. “It’s only because I’m ‘in charge,’ and one day at dinner, I told someone to finish all the vegetables on their plate because we can’t afford to waste anything, and he said ‘yes, Mother,’ and the rest is history.”

We all share a laugh, and then we walk inside, and my mouth drops open. The main rooms that I can see have all been converted into a sort of makeshift hospital. There are multiple beds in the old living room, each with a small side table and chair next to it. Nothing matches, but it doesn’t really matter. It just adds to the surprisingly cheerful atmosphere. The rooms are full of light, color, and life, even though some of the beds are occupied by patients. A few of them are awake, sitting up and reading, writing, or doing other craft-like activities. A couple of them look over at us and smile or nod slowly before returning to whatever they were working on or doing.

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