Chapter 24: Night Desk

Jude took his time with the coffee.

"Boyfriend sounds small," he said.

"Boyfriend sounds like Dane," said Maisy.

"That's fair."

Hank spoke from the stove without turning around.

"He's the fella who drives the supply van," he said. "That's what I'm calling him. Courier."

"That's a job," Maisy said. "I asked for a word."

I got up and crossed the kitchen to the whiteboard Hank kept by the pantry door.

It held the chores for nine days of rain, in Hank's square capitals.

I wiped it clean with my sleeve, and I picked up a marker.

I wrote Hank's name, Maisy's and mine in a column, and then I stopped.

Under mine, I wrote one more line in smaller letters and capped the marker.

JUDE WEATHERFORD. PLUS ONE.

Maisy read it out loud and began to grin.

Jude read it and went very still.

"Plus One is the one who doesn't count as extra," I said. "He's the one that makes it add up."

"Is that official?"

"It's on the board."

Hank grunted from the stove, which was as close as he got to a speech.

Jude put his coffee down and didn't pick it up again.

The Dome sent word at noon.

The woman in scrubs wanted a courier who knew the roads, and she wanted a voice for the night desk on the shelter frequency.

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