The Murder of Crows | Book 2 | Red Right Hand by Tullbane Chris

Author:Tullbane, Chris [Tullbane, Chris]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Post-Apocalyptic | Superhero Fantasy
Publisher: Ghost Falls Press
Published: 2020-11-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 31

One day.

That’s all I got.

One day of peace and quiet and having a sub-dorm to myself.

One day of staying up late watching vids and sleeping in until almost noon.

That’s all I got, because the next afternoon, there was a knock at the door. And I opened it up to find that the oldest man in the world had come calling.

Amos Farshad had been sixty-nine when the Break happened, and all these decades later, he was still sixty-nine. He’d seen a lot of things go down and was never shy in telling the students of his History classes all about it.

Technically, Grannypocalypse was probably older than Amos, but I wasn’t entirely sure she counted as being alive. Her Majesty had told me she’d seen the ancient Power with her own eyes, sitting in a rocking chair, drinking a cup of tea that never went empty, on a porch in front of the one house still standing in West Virginia, surrounded by miles and miles of irradiated wasteland from the last time someone had pissed the old woman off. Still, if there was one thing I knew as a Crow, it’s that there was a whole wealth of possibilities between life and death. I had no idea where Grannypocalypse fell on that spectrum.

Amos, on the other hand… he was definitely alive. Grumpy as hell, liable to take a nap whenever he felt like it, and entirely unwilling to suffer fools… but alive.

And standing at my door in all his slumped-shoulder glory.

“Banach!” His voice snapped like a whip that had been left in the sun to dry and crack. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Amos.”

“I’m not an idiot, boy.” His scowl was all the more ferocious for the network of lines in his leathery skin. “I mean why aren’t you at my house getting some work done?”

“What?” There’d been some debate—very quiet debate—among the students about what all those years might do to a man who’d already been old before the world ended in fire, but Amos was usually a lot sharper than this.

“Bard didn’t tell you?” He read the answer in my face, and the scowl deepened. “That man. Entirely too much on his plate, especially with Marissa, and yet he still thinks he can do everything.”

“Who’s Marissa?”

“His wife. It’s a shame what happened to her.”

I waited for an explanation, but one never came.

“So what was Bard supposed to tell me?”

“That’s Dean Bard to you, Banach! Show some respect! He was concerned that you’d have too much time on your hands over the break. Coincidentally, I have a fence that needs repair, apple trees that need trimming, and a body too damn ancient to waste itself on either.” His smile was all Amos; part warmth, part joy, and part amused calculation. “I’m guessing you can do the math on your own?”

I could… and didn’t love the answer I got. “I thought I was going to get to relax over break.”

“Guess you’re not an oracle.”

Not that oracles were a thing, thank god.

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