Montross grinned. “All right, smarty-pants. Just remote view the next section of this river. Period.”
Alexander nodded. “I’ll try. And I’ll try not to see my dad.”
“Try hard,” Montross said. “I know it’s not easy to pull away from your feelings, or your fears, but it’s the only way. If you want to see him again, trust that he knows what he’s doing, and trust that for this part, we need your skills. Go to it.”
“Can I touch the tablet first?”
Montross held it out, balancing it in the palm of his right hand, watching as it reflected in the boy’s deep brown eyes, mixing with his irises, turning them a swirling shade of green.
Alexander reached for it slowly, his fingers trembling.
Nina found the masks, as predicted, on the shore beside the two posts and empty chains that had tethered two boats. She waved her flashlight ahead, scoping out the area, but couldn’t see a thing. She held her breath, sucking in a whiff of the foul, toxic air and holding it just to listen.
From somewhere, far, far off, something loud, a report followed by another muffled thump echoing along the stretch of the dark underground waterway, reached her ear. A tiny ripple stirred along the shore.
She didn’t need to be psychic to know that the other team faced something deadly at the end of the waterway. But all the same, she felt a twinge, a sudden connection with someone.
And it wasn’t Montross.
Caleb.
She felt him, saw through his eyes just for a brief instant…
… a flickering field of immobile warriors, thousands-strong, weapons ready, facing them, barring their advance.
Why? Nina thought. Why did I glimpse that? Why Caleb? Why now?
She took the masks and slowly backed away, shaking her head, clearing that nagging sight, when something else, something that suddenly blossomed like an exploding fireworks display in her mind…
Two sets of small hands, gripped by larger ones, held in a grandfatherly grasp.
Two hands… belonging to two boys.
Two scared boys, looking out over a harbor from a great height, gazing out at hundreds of boats while a raspy voice whispered of destiny.
Nina trembled.
She coughed, fell to her knees, heaving. Gasping.
What… the hell… was that?
She closed her eyes, but the visions were gone, leaving behind nothing but wispy shadows.
She gathered up the masks and stumbled back to Montross.
They pushed off as Nina stood behind the rowers, Hiltmeyer and Harris. She had a gun in each hand, the Beretta in her left, the muzzles at the back of their heads, and she couldn’t help but feel like a slave master on the old Roman galleons, ready to execute whoever dropped out of pace first.
Harris complained through his makeshift face mask of his torn sleeve tied around his neck and across his mouth. Colonel Hiltmeyer only rowed in silence, his eyes burning as each stroke released fumes that stung at his eyes.
“What next?” Montross asked.
Alexander sat in the front, gas mask wrapped extra tight around his head. He held up a hand. Then pointed. “Hug the right wall.”
Nina nudged the gun against Harris’s head, prodding him to row harder, pushing the boat in that direction.
“Farther,” Alexander said, scanning the rooftop as nervousness crept into his voice. “Otherwise we’re bowling pins.”
Montross directed his flashlight along the ceiling, locating a huge round ball tucked into a niche in the center, to their left now as they steered around it. “Good catch, kid. What else?”
Alexander closed his eyes and focused his breathing. Don’t do it, don’t view Dad, or Phoebe.
Instead, he saw his…
… mom, engulfed in the flames.
Except she wasn’t hurting. Wasn’t even singed. She walked through the fire calmly, arms out to him, a sweet smile on her face.
“ You’re not alone,” she whispered, smoke puffing from her mouth.
“ Not… alone…”
He snapped out of it, blinked and then saw “Spikes!” he shouted. “At both sides. Stop!”
Harris pulled back, oaring fast the other way, and Hiltmeyer slipped, a second later, turning and jamming the oar. He coughed, hacking into his mask and cursing. Something black and shiny roared straight up from the river a yard from where Alexander had been sitting in the prow. It pierced the tunnel’s roof, dislodging stones and dirt, and then withdrew with a silent splash.
“What the hell!” Harris said. His oar was out of the water now, and he was bent over, almost hugging his knees. “What do we do?”
“Remain calm,” Montross said. “Alexander’s got it.”
“Cutting it a little close, don’t you think?” Hiltmeyer said.
“Turn now,” Alexander said with a shaking voice. “Straighten it out. And stay straight if you can. There’s just a narrow channel where we’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” said Nina, jabbing the soldiers with her guns. “We get it. You heard the kid. Straighten out and row.”
They moved ahead, cutting through the luminescent water. Moving slower, carefully.
“What else?” Montross asked.
Alexander shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see anything else, except…”
“What?”
He slumped forward, then straightened his back. He turned his head and Montross could see the pained eyes filling with tears.
“I saw you again,” he said. “Your mom and dad-”
“What?”
“Alexander!” Nina started.
“-dying. The car crash. Except, he wasn’t your dad.”
“I know that,” Montross snapped. “But why? Why are you seeing this? What question are you asking?”
“Nothing. I didn’t ask a thing. I just keep seeing it.”
Montross stared, open-mouthed, and Nina glanced at him, taking her attention away from the soldiers. “Xavier, it’s nothing.”
“Don’t tell me it’s nothing. He’s young, and his power is being augmented by the tablet in ways we can’t imagine. It must be showing him something important. Or at least something his mind feels he needs to know. So, I need to know it too.”
Damn, Nina thought. It’s too early for this.
“Not your father,” Alexander said again. “But I think… I think your dad might be…” He held his head, rubbing the back. He coughed. A little sob escaped.
“What?” Montross asked, almost a shriek. “What? Who?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know.” Alexander shook his head. “I see it, but I don’t know what it means.”
The oars continued paddling, the boat skimming faster and faster ahead. All flashlights were pointed inside at Alexander, almost blinding him.
“Well,” said Montross gripping the tablet even tighter, “now that I know that something about my heritage is important, I’ll just have my own look-see.”
“No,” Nina whispered.
“What?”
“Don’t. Not yet.”
