The tanks, most of them Vietnam-era, seem to dwarf the Reverend. He joined Dave, who sat on a bench next to one of the behemoths. They sat for a moment, watching men and women haul crates, load rifles, and stack boxes of supplies. “I’m going,” Dave said finally. “We could use you,” Frank said. “We could use everyone.” “Sara’s on her own.” “If we fail here, it won’t matter.” “You don’t have kids, Frank.” “That’s not fair,” Frank said. “I care for Sara, too.” “Who’s cared for her? Ripped her out of schools when people started asking too many questions? Worried that Engel and his freaks were looking for her?” “We all have,” Frank said. “No one more than me. I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve kept going. I’ve wasted time.” “Know what?” He felt his muscles tense. “What, Frank?” “You’ve become a pretty damned good father,” Frank said, and clapped him on the leg. “I’ve lied to her all these years,” David said.
