The Rising(74)

“Maybe they don’t know who you are,” he said unconvincingly.

“They stole my iPad, remember? And wiped the backup off the Cloud.”

“Why?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out. Must’ve had something to do with the pattern I uncovered.”

“What pattern, exactly?”

“It’s hard to explain, complicated.”

“And I won’t be able to understand.” Alex nodded.

“Did I say that?”

“You didn’t have to.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway. Even though Dr. Donati seemed interested in my findings, very interested.”

“See, you’re even smarter than you think.” He sighed and blew the stray hair from his face. “I want you sleeping in your own bed tonight. I want to get you home.”

“Not if it means leaving you alone.”

“Apparently, I’ve always been alone. I just didn’t know it.”

“You’re not alone now.”

“Thanks,” he said shyly, gaze tilted downward. “We’ll go to San Ramon together. After that—”

“After that,” Sam interrupted, “we’ll figure out what comes next.”

“Your parents. They need to hear your voice, Sam.”

“Not over one of those things,” she said, eyeing the prepaid phones displayed at the register. “Might as well hold a spotlight on myself.”

“I’ve got another idea,” Alex told her.

He leaned against the cart. The woman in front of them had her purse in the child seat—open. Her phone was clearly visible.

Alex deftly slipped it out and handed it to Sam. “Now, be like ET and phone home.”





74

PHONING HOME

SAM BACKED OFF, NOTICING the phone’s real owner was just then placing her purchases on the register conveyor belt, too busy with that and her two kids to have any idea the phone was missing. Her throat felt thick, her heart hammering against her chest when the phone began to ring and she willed someone to answer.

“Joints Are Us,” her mother greeted, Sam realizing instantly that she must have forwarded her home calls to the business line.

“Mom?”

“Honey,” her mother’s voice came back, “where are you?”

“Well, I—”

“Ronald, it’s Sam,” her mother called to her father before she could continue. “What’s going on? Why didn’t you come home last night? The police were here.”

“Police?” Sam repeated, feeling something flutter inside her.

“Two of them, asking to speak to you. They wouldn’t say what it was about. You weren’t answering your cell phone, straight to voicemail. We’ve been worried sick. What’s going on, Sammie?”

“What did they look like?”

“Who?”

“The police.”

“Like … cops.”

“What about smell? Did you notice how they smelled?”

“What?”

“Never mind,” Sam said, switching gears. “What did you tell them?”

“Nothing, because there was nothing to tell. That’s right, isn’t it? I think they may still be parked outside. Let me look—wait, your father just came in. I’m handing him the—”

“Sam!” she heard her father’s voice call.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Whatever it is, you can tell us, Sammie. Why were the cops here? What’s it have to do with Alex Chin?”

“Alex?” Sam posed, looking right at him.

“They asked about Alex too. They were careful to say you hadn’t done anything wrong. They didn’t say the same thing about him. When the cops come back—”

“They said they were coming back?”

“Maybe. I think so. Strange that they didn’t write anything down, come to think of it.”

“Did they smell like motor oil, Dad?”

“How’d you know that, Sammie?” her father asked after a pause.





75

THE GENERAL

RAIFF DRESSED HIS WOUNDS as best he could. His head still felt like a hammer was pounding the inside of his skull and he didn’t dare risk taking any medications likely to dull more than the pain.

Because it was coming.

He didn’t know precisely where or when, or even what, exactly. Only, the very reason why he’d spent the last eighteen years of his life protecting a child who had no idea of his true being or heritage was about to be fulfilled. It was the sole explanation for the events of the past two days—Dancer’s house and the hospital first, then the attack of last night. The appearance of the Shadow that Dancer had called the ash man and the import of the quasi-apparition’s words the boy had managed to reconstruct.

“‘No, faith, not a jot; but to follow him thither, with modesty enough…,’” he said across the table, where a chessboard sat between him and the General.

Quoting Hamlet, specifically a scene where the doomed prince holds a skull in hand while musing on the inevitability of death. “Inevitability” being the key word because that described the war that mankind had no idea was coming.