Chapter 25
Atlas
I’m scared shitless.
I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.
Why hadn’t I listened to abuelo more when he was alive?
And as much as I hate to admit that I kinda forgot all about Tommy Donahue since he joined the Angelics (because I DID forget all about him), seeing his name flash on my phone startled me so badly that I had to hide in the back of the motel office until my heart slowed to a healthy rate.
Because he would only call for one reason, and one reason only (which was the agreement we had): call if you’re in trouble or if you’ve found a recidivist—correction—a powered individual in need.
Tommy was sending two high schoolers my way.
A powered individual discovered by a trafficking network, and his lifelong friend, who possessed no abilities of his own, was along for the ride.
That was some dedication. I mean, how else would you react to this kind of situation? Maybe they’re even in love. How sweet.
No matter what it may seem like or even that abu tasked me to carry on his work (not by my own free will, I can assure you), I’m woefully unprepared, with no clue what the hell I’m doing without him here to help me.
Mamá and papá are convinced I listened to every lecture he ever gave me—that I was present for every Angelic visit, but that’s not the case. That’s not the case at all.
Because it’s not what I wanted for myself.
I am so incredibly fucked. I was so focused on school and tutoring and seeking out cute people that I lost complete control over the operation abu had run for decades. He would be gravely disappointed in me (no pun intended; I promise).
That was so fucking morbid. God, I’m a sick person.
I need to act as if I have my shit together, that I know what I’m doing, and that I’ll safely get these friends to Proctus.
They’ll be none the wiser when my part is over and done with.
Meanwhile, I calm the creases scrunching up my forehead, the tension in my cheeks, and the lock in my jaw. The job will get done.
Conin parks on the opposite side of the street, per my request, a bit of a distance away from home. He listens, albeit reluctantly. Telling him what to do almost made me shit myself when I remembered the gun he kept in the pocket of his hoodie. I should warn Mama and Papa of that.
The walk to my house from the car isn’t a long one, so I feel comfortable enough to lead them through the dark, lightless streets of Eureka at night.
I swear to god, if they think I’ll jump them or lead them into an alleyway so I can murder them in cold blood, I’ll .
. . well, I won’t do anything, but I will panic.
I don’t want them to believe I’m up to anything nefarious.
If I mention that, I doubt it will do me any favors.
They most likely won’t believe me. And I’ll most likely be shot.
Instead, I say, “I’m sure ma and pa are still awake. They don’t normally go to sleep until I get home from a shift.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Conin says. Ezra is cold and silent beside him, his unique eyes gazing speculatively at me, calculating, as if he’s trying to decide whether I can be trusted. Fair enough, I suppose.
The presence of another powered individual breezed through me like an intense wind just minutes before they arrived at the motel.
It had been so strong, so overwhelming, I had keeled over for several minutes to compose myself.
It was unlike anything I had felt before—certainly not anything like the bond I shared with abu, and most definitely not like the feelings I’d get when the Angelics came around for a visit.
This sensation is utterly new to me. It’s intoxicating and my every waking thought is glued to the way it makes me feel.
What’s different about Ezra? Why do I feel innately tethered to him, as if I’ve known him my entire life?
Ambrosia said once after she broke the news she and Matt had gotten together, that their bond had always felt like something more, but she hadn’t had the words to explain it until they’d started dating.
That can’t be possible with Ezra. I only just met him.
There’s no way something’s already happening between us. To even entertain the idea is asinine.
Can he feel it?
I’m not sure how I’d react if he did.
I burn the thought from memory. Because at the end of the day, Conin and Ezra are going to leave and live their lives out far away from here.
This is only a temporary fleeting moment in time.
I can’t entertain the idea there’s more to this tether than just being near another powered individual.
That means something more than what I’m willing to handle right now.
It’s only been a month since abu's passing. I shouldn’t move on from my grief that fast.
The front door light is on as we approach home.
I double-check to make sure the friends are still following close behind before taking my key to unlock the door.
I enter first and hold it open like the gracious host I am.
Ma and pa are, as usual, lounging on the couch in the living room when we enter.
They peer up—ma from her phone, pa from some ex-Mormon book he’s been reading, and their eyes widen in surprise.
Shit. I forgot to update them that two teenagers are on the run from an infamous trafficking network and need asylum downstairs in our basement.
And now, the more I think about it, having the Barclay Network after their asses is absolutely pissing-pants scary.
God, they better not track them here. Ezra and Conin would tell me if the mercenaries were still on their trail. I hope.
Maybe I should ask.
“Mamá . . . Papá, this is Ezra and his friend Conin. They’re seeking asylum after a run-in with someone dangerous. Tommy contacted me about them. Remember him?”
I’m handling this so well.
“Of course, mi corazón. We just . . . weren’t expecting this so soon,” says ma.
What she means is I forgot to tell them, and I’ll be hearing about it later in her overbearing, loving Latina fashion.
Pa remains stern next to her, his mouth stretched thin as he takes in the newcomers.
They should understand. Not everything is going to be planned.
Abu certainly reminded my parents of this.
Ma stands, a whole foot shorter than me and the others. I got pa’s tall, Scottish genes, which is evident by the way ma looks up at me with concerned eyes. They see all. They tell all.
“Were they followed?” she speaks in rough, rapid Spanish. Pa listens in, his two years of missionary experience and two decades of marriage kicking in.
“No,” I say. “They lost the network’s trail a while ago.”
She goes slack-jawed.
“The Barclay Network?” she questions incredulously, emphasizing Barclay in heavily-accented English.
I nod but break the conversation so Conin and Ezra don’t think we’re plotting against them.
Conin wouldn’t kill all of us, would he?
Pa stands, ambling over to shake hands with them both, forever stuck in his missionary ways.
Conin smiles, his studded earrings distracting me as the overhead light reflects off them while Ezra attempts an awkward grin.
For a brief second, the tether pulls with every bit of energy it has.
Ezra winces. He looks at me but quickly glances away when he notices I’m watching him.
Way to be discreet, Atlas.
“Let me show you around,” ma says. “Then Atlas can take you to the bunker.”
She casts a backward glance at pa before beaming a brilliant smile and leading the two boys out of the living room. I make to follow her, but a large, firm hand grips my forearm before I get a chance to leave.
“How was work?” he questions.
It was abu's idea to have me work for our family’s motel down the street in case any wandering recid—– powered individuals passed through.
He claimed I was more attuned to sensing their presence than most people like us, so I acquiesced.
Ma and pa were skeptical at first, but they knew one day I’d take over once abu passed.
It was always in my cards and my parents were aware of the dangers of having both a father and a child with special abilities. The argument hadn’t lasted long.
“Work was fine,” I say.
“Do you think these kids will be trouble?”
I don’t blame my parents for being extra cautious since abu's passing, but I’m almost an adult.
This was always a risk. I was told all my life that I’d be continuing his work, so they can’t suddenly change their minds now.
It is arguable that this is their home, after all, and that I am their son. I sigh.
“I don’t think so. Tommy said he knew them from school. But if I start to think there is a potential risk, I’ll notify Ambrosia.”
Besides, this is what the bunker was designed for.
Pa releases his grip and ushers me along. “Just be careful,” he says. I go in search of ma and our guests. In the morning, I’ll make sure to contact Ambrosia. I haven’t spoken with the Angelics in over a month because they remind me of him and my failures.
They probably think he’s still alive.
I’ll tell Ambrosia the truth of his passing and notify her of Conin and Ezra’s arrival.
What I won’t say is that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.
I wasn’t prepared for a life without abu—without my rock, the man who taught me everything I needed to know about my powers.
I only watched and helped where I could, letting the desire for a life I couldn’t have overcome me.
I’m such an idiot. It’s time I finally get over whatever fears are holding me back and contact the Angelics. There’s no choice now when I’m aiding a runaway-powered individual in the flesh.
Ma and the others are in my room. Conin is acting as polite as can be, but Ezra could care less about any of it. Ma smiles and whispers she’ll make us some food before disappearing around the bend.
“Sorry about that,” I say.
“It’s alright.”
“Let me take you to the bunker now.”
The two cast each other a look. I turn my foot and lead the way.