Chapter 18

Foothills of Mt. Wilson, California

AHMED’S MOTHER STOOD STIFFLY in front of the couch, the phone pressed to her ear in a white-knuckled grip. Dad was on the other end of the conversation. Mom’s eyes grew larger with each word she heard, and the tension that had been etched on her face for the past few days was melting away.

“A-are you sure?” she asked. “But how…?” Her brow furrowed as she listened to Dad’s explanation.

Ahmed opened and closed his fists, anxious to know what was being revealed. But he didn’t want to interrupt to ask that she put the call on speaker. Marshall and Lacey stood nearby holding hands as they too watched his mom. Ahmed could tell from Lacey’s expression and the way Marshall kept licking his lips that they shared his frustration. He exchanged a hopeful glance with Sarafina, who stood beside Mom with her palm on Mom’s shoulder as if to bolster her spirit regardless of the news.

Mom blinked several times, then her knees wobbled, her breath caught, and she sagged onto the couch. “I love you, too,” she said into the phone, before ending the call and clasping the device to her chest as if it were a favorite long lost doll. She looked up. “He found Alex. And they’re both coming home.”

“Yes!” Marshall shouted, sweeping Lacey into the air and spinning her around. Sarafina covered her mouth with her hand and plopped next to Mom.

Tears dripped from Mom’s eyes. “And that’s not all. Alex is no longer sick.”

“What?” Lacey asked.

“Oh, Mom,” Sarafina said, throwing her arms around her.

Ahmed was elated, and a part of him wanted to join in their embrace. It was a new feeling for him. All his life he’d had a violent aversion to being touched, one that hadn’t gone away after he received the brain implant that helped control most of the other aspects of his spectrum disorder. But that aversion had abated lately, and he was surprised to note that in this circumstance, it was replaced by a desire to participate. He’d shaken Dad’s hand when Dad returned from the dead a couple of days ago, and it had felt good. In this case, however, he sensed joining in would take away from the moment for the others. So he held back. He’d save his hug for his little brother when he walked in the door, and the thought of it brought a smile to his face.

“Tell us everything,” Lacey said. They gathered around as Mom relayed what Dad had told her.

Half an hour later Ahmed was outside in the forest, sitting alone with his back against a tree as he stared at the lodge. He held his knees to his chest, rocking gently as he absorbed what his father and Alex had been through. Dad had only touched on the highlights of the adventure, but those alone had left Ahmed astounded. And angry.

His eight-year-old brother had traveled to Bogota to help a group of kids rescue a friend from slave traders? And Alex was about to be taken himself when Dad had shown up to save the day? Then the two of them traveled into the depths of the jungles of Brazil to confront an alien who’d been part of the grid, and who’d magically cured Alex and healed his father’s face? All while Ahmed was forced to sit on his hands?

“It isn’t fair,” he mumbled to himself. People had died, Mom had said, including one of the kids Alex had befriended. Ahmed glanced at the pistol he’d set on the ground beside him.

If I’d been there, that boy would still be alive.

Instead, he’d been forced to remain behind like some little kid. Tony knew what Ahmed was capable of—he’d proven himself by taking out those bikers. Nevertheless, Tony hadn’t permitted him to go on the rescue mission with Dad’s Air Force friends on the CV-22. He’d dismissed the notion out of hand, and that’s what hurt the most. No, Ahmed thought, the only way he would prove he could measure up was to partake on a mission of his own making.

He hefted the pistol.

Someday.