I nod, pleased by his curiosity. "Their digestion process breaks down organic material into the perfect plant food. It's nature's way of recycling waste into something valuable."
Brick looks thoughtful, his gaze drifting over the vibrant garden. "So the worms take useless crap and transform it into life. They find balance and purpose in the waste."
"Exactly," I reply. "With proper care, the worms thrive, creating nourishment from scraps. But it's a delicate balance—too much waste at once can throw things off."
Brick considers this, his eyes clouded. I wonder if he's thinking of our own violent world, and the challenge of finding equilibrium amidst the chaos. "Okay, got it. Don't cover the worms in a giant pile of shit. Makes sense." He pauses. "How do you keep the worm population from getting out of control?"
I explain the techniques for maintaining ideal conditions—monitoring temperature and moisture, rotating waste inputs, and harvesting castings. Brick listens intently, absorbing every word like a sponge.
I nod slowly, seeing the deeper meaning take root in Brick's mind. Our lives have become unbalanced, overflowing with cruelty and death. We desperately need the wisdom of the worms—taking the rot around us, of which there is plenty, and patiently transforming it into something good. Something we can believe in. A bit like the girls are doing with their clothing line, now that I think about it.
"Kind of like us, right?" I say. "We take the chaos around us and try to turn it into something good."
Brick meets my gaze, his eyes glinting. "Yeah, I see what you mean. It's about finding balance in the middle of all the mess."
He fallssilent then, staring down at the compost-filled box, lost in contemplation. I know that look on his rugged face. Brick is churning over an idea, one he's not ready to give voice to yet.
"You've got that look, Brick," I prod gently. "What's going on in that warped mind of yours?"
Brick glances up, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Just thinking...sometimes the simplest solutions are right in front of us."
He leaves it at that, but I can see the spark of inspiration in his eyes. Brick has been moved by the humble worms, their quiet power to transform death into new life. And I know that he'll take this lesson and make it into something entirely of his own creation.
The sun sinks lower in the sky, casting the garden in a warm, golden glow as we finish up. I stand, brushing the dirt from my hands, and take a moment to admire our efforts.
"The garden looks great, Brick. Thanks for your help."
Brick straightens up beside me, gazing around appreciatively. "Anytime, Dom. I actually enjoyed getting my hands dirty in a new way. Might have to take up gardening myself."
I smile at the thought of this hulking, tattooed man delicately tending his own vegetable patch.
Brick notices my amusement and shrugs. "Hey, I'm full of surprises."
We share a laugh, the first real one in a long while. It feels good, like a tiny weight lifted from the constant pressure upon us.
Brick heads back inside, no doubt to turn whatever idea sparked in his head into something tangible and wild. I remain a while longer, sitting amidst the herbs and watching the worms tirelessly churning waste into fertile soil.
This garden is my sanctuary from the madness outside. A place where life springs eternal, if nurtured with care. My garden doesn't see the giant, broken man who has been through so much. It only sees my gentle, tender side. The patient giant who takes his time making sure each sprout, each fresh green shoot, lives its best life here in my garden. And okay, maybe once in a while I speak tothem as if they're long lost friends. The kind that see my every flaw and accept me anyways.
Perhaps Brick is right, and the key to overcoming the darkness is simpler than we realize.
Patience, balance, transforming decay into new growth—this is the wisdom we must cultivate within ourselves.
With time and persistence, and the help of busy worms, even the most damaged soil can thrive again.
Chapter thirty-two
Later that evening
The monitors glow against my skin, casting the room in an eerie blue light. Surveillance duty isn't glamorous or particularly fun, but it's crucial. Tonight, Tane's men face a test they won't forget.
He's been so obsessed with his men proving their unquestioning loyalty to him, and his paranoia is only getting worse. Test after test, so I'm sure this one feels no different.
The instructions were cryptic, but every communication with Tane is getting to be that way. Barely an eyebrow was raised when his men received their invites on their phones, their contact information craftily downloaded by Skyler when he snuck into the compound the other night.
My eyes flick between screens, watching the convoy roll up. Tane's foot soldiers exit the vehicles, tense and alert. They march towards the entrance, oblivious to what awaits inside.
I zoom in on their faces—hardened, yet apprehensive. They know something big is coming, though not what. My pulse quickens. This is going to be interesting.