“This house has a lot of history,” he said. “It’s seen a lot of good things and a lot of bad things. The good things mostly followed the bad things.”

An awkward silence followed.

“And now it’ll be torn down,” I finally said.

“Oh, don’t count on it,” he said. “Sometimes disasters lead to improvements. When you’ve got to rebuild something, it can become even better and stronger.”

“Interesting,” I said, scratching the suddenly itchy surgical scar above my rib cage.

He turned toward me. “It’s good to see you, son.” He said this like a pronouncement, like it was being recorded for the court record.

“It’s good to see you, too, Dad,” I replied, trying to keep my voice from cracking on “Dad.” “Have you talked to Mom? Charlie? How are they?”

“They’re in the military hospital,” he said. “I haven’t spoken to them. There’s no cellular service, and the phone at the plant was having trouble connecting. But I’ve been assured that they’re fine.”

“You’ve been assured?”

“I have.” He folded his hands in his lap. “What do you know about this explosion?”

I told him everything I could remember about that horrific night: that end-of-the-world blast, the rescues, Mom’s injury, her departure with Charlie. He nodded impassively while I spoke, as if he was cataloging everything for future inspection.

“Dad,” I said when I finished my account, “I’ve been staying at Maggie’s, but you’re allowed to come home now, right? Or take me somewhere? They’re super nice, but I want to be home, whatever that is now. I don’t have anything anymore. Everything got burned up. And I’ve got nowhere to go.”

“I’m still required to attend to my station. I’ll speak to Renee, but I’m sure she won’t object to your remaining with them for the indefinite future.”

I sat, speechless. Did he hear a word I said? Was he shedding all parental responsibility? I hated the whine in my voice but couldn’t help it. “Why? You’re the only family I’ve got here. Why can’t you stop work and take care of things—take care of me? Isn’t it illegal for me to be on my own?”

He shook his head. “Things are happening at the plant that are bigger than just us, Jordan. I know you’re safe with Maggie’s family; otherwise I wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Safe? Really?” I held out my bandaged arm and stuck out my wrapped leg. “Do you know how many fresh stitches are in me? Thirty-four! And that’s from going to see you at the plant! I went up to them and said, ‘Hey, yo, I’m just a poor little orphan looking for his pa,’ but did they take me to you? No, they did not. They put me in a room with these men in suits and a freakish skull-faced scientist with a sword-blade arm, and they did this. But, sure, yeah, I’m fine. No need to look out for your kid.”

He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I warmed under his touch despite myself.