On the back of Tex’s bike, Jessie considered how much had changed. The world was different than it had been a few weeks ago — hell, just one day. She had created a hole in the world, a gap where a person had been, and while she knew it wasn’t something she wanted to do again, she also hadn’t had much trouble getting out of bed this morning. She kept waiting to feel guilty, or like she had inappropriately crossed the will of God, or…something. Like she should go to church and take confession. Ask for forgiveness. But there was no need. Was what she’d done good? No, she didn’t think so. Killing a person wasn’t ever something she would think of as good. But it might have been right. It might have been just.

 

She couldn’t think of another situation when she would have accepted ending a person’s life as fair payment for what had gone past. In self-defense, that was something. But that moment there, on that dark night, had been ending something that had been started so many years ago. She had seen in Pedey’s eyes that he remembered it. She suspected that he had lived out that murder — maybe not every night, maybe he wasn’t haunted by its after effects like she was. But he remembered it. He’d never forgotten. Had he even recognized her? Maybe.

 

And now, she rested easily on the back of Tex’s bike. She steadied herself against him, but she didn’t need to cling to him, afraid that she would do something to unsteady the bike. He’d talked this morning about getting her one of her own, teaching her to ride, and she thought that might be nice, but at the same time, it was good to be behind him, protected from the wind, feeling the muscles of his stomach flex as he guided them smoothly along the road. Riding on her own might be amazing, but it wasn’t necessarily the kind of freedom she was after. She’d see.

 

Now, they rode into the desert. They weren’t following a road that she could see; Tex had her put goggles over her eyes and a bandana over her mouth, and still she tasted dust. She imagined it was worse for those who were riding behind them. Not too many, this time, nothing like the caravan that had ridden out to take on the Racketeers. But enough. A few more bikes, and then a 4x4. Inside the 4x4 were Take, one of the lieutenants she hadn’t really gotten to know, and the man who had once called himself her father. John Hendricks. Smokey. The junkie who had caused this entire mess.

 

Tex had left his fate in her hands, and she wasn’t entire sure yet what she was going to do with that gift and curse. She didn’t want to make another hole in the world. It wasn’t good. But was it right? Was it just? She couldn’t decide.

 

She found herself wondering what Danny would do. Obviously, if he were alive, none of this would be a problem. But she cast her mind back, trying to remember what, if anything, Danny had said about their father. In those days, he’d come home more often, though “more often” was still once or twice a year – when he wasn’t in prison, which he was as often as not. Mom had never seemed happy to see him there, but he’d always ended up sleeping in her room.

 

Danny had always been defiant and absent when Smokey was around. But was that because he was angry their father was there, or because he was angry he still hadn’t earned their father’s approval? How could she know for sure when he probably hadn’t known himself?

 

There was no help from the past. What mattered was the future. Tex had said she was the only person who could make this decision, and as much as she hated him for doing that, she also understood why he had. If her father was killed, and she later regretted it, he didn’t want her to regret him. But at the same time, it would be kind to have the burden lifted.

 

There were no easy answers. Maybe the easy answers weren’t worth seeking.

 

She didn’t know why this bit of desert was different from all the parts they’d already driven through, but Tex pulled to a stop like he knew what he was seeking. The others stopped behind him, turning off their bikes and leaning them up between legs. She dismounted from the back of his bike. Tex made a “come on” gesture in the air, and the doors of the 4x4 opened. Take stepped out, then reached into the back of the vehicle and hauled Smokey out.

 

Jessie wanted to believe in second chances. She also was tired of being taken advantage of. And then she knew what she wanted.

 

She’d packed a bag and tucked it into the saddlebag of Tex’s bike when they’d headed out. She drew it out now and waited. Take led Smokey up to her. The man’s legs were unsteady, his hands were shaking so hard they hadn’t bothered to tie him at all, and he was stained with shit and vomit. Take had made him sit on a tarp in the back of the 4x4 and hold a bucket. When Take let go of his arm, Smokey dropped to his knees at her feet.

 

“You’ve never been a father to me,” she said, her voice steadier than she expected as she looked for the words she wanted, the last ones she ever planned on speaking to this man. “You weren’t a father to my brother. I could have forgiven you that. But you got him killed. You got him killed for a stupid drug, and you never even tried to make amends. You let us believe it was our fault when it was yours. I can’t forgive you for that.”

 

He looked up to her, his eyes clearer than they had been in her mother’s house. “Girl, I’m—”

 

“No,” she said. “You don’t talk. I talk. There’s nothing I want to hear from you. Do you understand me?”

 

He nodded.

 

“We drove all the way out here because it would be easy to kill you. No one would know.” She thought of the feeling of a weapon in her hand, and the intense kickback after she’d pulled the trigger. It had jarred her whole arm. It had felt deeply wrong and strange. And she didn’t really want to do it again, she found. But he didn’t need to know any of that. His eyes didn’t look panicked at the thought of his imminent death. With the intensity of his withdrawals, how much was he even hearing?

 

She pushed herself on. She dropped the pack at her feet and kicked it toward him. “This is the part where you get to make a choice, John,” she said. He winced at that, at her calling him by his given name and not ‘Dad.’ That broke her heart, just a little bit. The idea that, somewhere down there, he still wanted to be her father. That almost made her change her mind. But it wasn’t enough. His regret was not enough to undo what he had done. “There’s a couple things in that bag. Enough water that you can get back to town, if you don’t get lost. Enough drugs to kill you.” She shrugged. “I suppose if you’re careful, you could get yourself to stop shaking and make it back without ODing. Or stay here until you get your shit together and can make it back. I don’t know. But the point is, you have a choice.” She knelt down, trying not to inhale the stench of the man. “But no matter what you choose? I don’t ever want to see you again, John. You never darken my path again. Or there will be no choice.” She reached for all the dark authority Tex could muster when he chose, letting her features darken and twist. “You feel me?”

 

It was a long moment. His eyes were focused on her face, as if he was memorizing her. And then he nodded.

 

She was done. She slid back on to Tex’s bike behind him, and he didn’t wait. He turned the bike around, starting at a slow pace while the other bikes turned and followed them, the 4x4 bringing up the end again. She didn’t turn around to see if John had opened the bag. She didn’t look to see if he’d found the knife in the bottom, that she’d left there in case he decided that the solution was to end things quickly. It didn’t matter to her anymore.

 

She wrapped her arms around Tex’s waist and let him drive them into the future.