Father Julien (One of Five)

I named my gun Joan. Her parents, Smith and Wesson, named her 910. That's no name for a lady [This is not the only gun he's named Joan. For whatever reason, they're all named Joan. I have to assume there's some significance to the name. However, Trace has no online footprint. How am I going to locate the original Joan? -Dara] She takes fifteen 9mm rounds. Every time I reload, I kiss each bullet, for Mark. I also make sure the last bullet in the clip, the first I fire, is a blank. Bullets ain't expensive, but sometimes, I need to threaten a shot more than the bullet. If I need to actually shoot, I just pull a second time. One time I pulled the trigger was 7 or 8 months back, was kinda a mistake, but I definitely didn't need the bullet. Really, just needed the threat more than anything, and it worked out better that way.

Most slobs walk in, they start making fools of themselves in front of Dara. Not Father Julien, man of God almighty. Shook her hand, called her Ms. Leggett, did everything slobs didn't. Then I went to shake his hand. He said I looked familiar, but I told him I got one of em faces. When we shook hands, I could feel Father Julien's fingernails scabbed over. He moved quick and twitchy, but he wasn't fast, almost kinda peaceful. First time I ever saw it from someone didn't play cornerback. His face was all sunken and faded, like he really was giving his life to God almighty. Even with his black robe, sweat stains soaked through.

He sat on the edge of his chair, ran his hand through the thin patch of string he called hair. Every so often, I could see a few brown strands break off. Made me jealous I didn't have that problem any more. He ran Shepherd's Cave parish a few blocks away. I'd seen it, one of the older places, right from the postcard. Even been inside once or twice when I need to talk to someone and the bars were all closed.

They also ran community outreach, lots of clothes and food and stuff. Few weeks back, some of it started disappearing. First, they thought it was one of the volunteers, borrowing a sweater cause it was cold. Then it was some food, loaf of bread, jar of peanut butter, didn't stop. Father Julien started keeping watch. Did rounds every night and morning, locked the church up tight. Sometimes there was a pair of shoes missing at night, sometimes lettuce in the morning. It wasn't more than a couple things, but it was starting to get noticeable. He bit his fingernails some more, said it was a new habit.