A Merciful Death (Mercy Kilpatrick #1)(56)

“Some of them. But he’s been short tempered lately. I heard him tell David Aguirre to go to hell.”

“The minister?”

“Yeah, Dad hasn’t ever really liked him. Says he’s a liar and shouldn’t be preaching to others.”

Levi and I agree on that.

“I think David was always more of Owen’s friend, not your dad’s,” said Mercy. “At least that’s how it used to be.”

“It’s still that way. David is part of Grandpa’s circle,” added Kaylie.

Mercy nodded. Her father had always surrounded himself with people he believed would have his back in an uncertain future. Mercy wondered if it had been Owen’s doing to include David in that tight-knit circle. Did he have other skills besides preaching? Engineering skills? Livestock? Botany? Maybe her father thought it was prudent to have one of God’s servants on his side.

She didn’t snort out loud.

“I don’t think society is going to fall apart,” Kaylie said softly. “How can my life revolve around preparing for something that I don’t think will ever happen?” She turned pleading eyes to her aunt.

Mercy understood. She’d had the same thought a million times and struggled with the conflict it’d created in her soul. She’d watched her parents systematically prepare for an uncertain future, but at the same time watched the rest of the world moving on as normal. A foreign market would crash, her parents would tense, convinced it was the first step, and nothing would happen. Americans still went to school, went to work, bought groceries, and rode their bikes.

Are they living a lie?

“I know how you feel,” Mercy started. She paused, knowing it wasn’t her place to tell the girl what to do. “All I can tell you is how I’ve dealt with those feelings. The preparing and looking ahead has been ingrained in your life from birth, right?”

Kaylie nodded.

“But if you step away, you’ll feel worried, insecure . . . like you’re walking on a tightrope. No matter how badly I wanted to relax and enjoy a normal life, the doubt crept up and I wondered if I was foolish for not doing simple things like storing extra food or maintaining an alternative power supply. Do you worry that if you leave for college and start a new life that you’ll find out your dad was right to prepare for an uncertain future? And that you’ll suffer for it?”

“Yes! Every day.” Kaylie was hanging on every word.

“Then how can you do both at the same time?”

Her niece’s eyes widened. “Do both? How?”

Mercy saw the wheels start to turn.

“Is that what you do?” Kaylie’s voice rose an octave. “You haven’t fully given it up? But what about a community? Who will you rely on to help you?”

“I rely on myself,” Mercy whispered, feeling as if her entire obsessive-compulsive soul was on display for her niece.

“How?”

“Make a plan. It’s possible, but it’s not the same as having a circle of like-minded people to rely on,” Mercy admitted. “My plan has some holes, but I feel better knowing I’ve done something. When I start to feel uncertain, I do more and it helps me relax.”

“Where—?”

“That’s not important. What you need to know is that you’re a strong person and you can do whatever the hell you feel like, as long as you’re not hurting anyone else. If you don’t like the way something makes you feel, then change it.”

Kaylie sat silently for a few moments, processing the information. Mercy hoped the girl could see some different possibilities now. When she’d been a teen, she’d been shown over and over the same path as Kaylie. Mercy had been okay with it, accepting that it was the smart way to live. Then she’d started to have doubts, and before she could come to terms with her doubts, her world exploded and she was shoved out the door, forced to fly on her own.

Shunned.

After that she completely rejected her family’s lifestyle.

Until she couldn’t live without it. Anxiety attacked within six months of her leaving, and she discovered that for her own peace of mind she had to prepare. All her life she’d been told that the power grid could collapse; she couldn’t blow off that possibility. So she started. It was small changes at first. Storing food. Batteries. Cash. Gold. She hid her compulsion from her roommates.

Then it’d gotten bigger.

And she still hid it. Hiding it was easier than answering questions.

After fifteen years, Kaylie was the first family member she’d discussed it with. Talking about it out loud was a relief. The girl wouldn’t judge her; she understood what it was like to grow up with preppers. A subtle bond flowed between her and the teen. A bond she hadn’t felt since she left home. Someone to talk to.

“Is it so bad living here, Kaylie?”

Kaylie gave her a sour look.

A tiny part of Mercy wanted to tell the girl to embrace the people around her and accept the way of life. A larger part wanted to scream at the teen and tell her to run away as fast as possible.

It wasn’t her place to tell the girl what to do.

But she sympathized. Her siblings had seen the prepping lifestyle as one of community and smart planning. She remembered how Pearl had shuddered as Mercy wondered out loud what it would be like to work and live in New York City: “I wouldn’t want to be in that city when the power and food supplies are cut off. There’ll be riots. People will attack each other. That’s crazy talk, Mercy.”