Chapter 42
Atlas
“We may have apprehended the mercenaries, but Eureka’s now on the Barclay Network’s radar,” Ambrosia says, traces of her cordial grin, which she offered my parents, who stand beside me, fading. She was always fond of them.
But the way she smiles, following by the horrifying news, makes every part of me ill at ease.
“Even if they aren’t aware of our operation . . . it’s not safe for you here anymore. Eureka has attention on it that it didn’t before,” pa tells me while ma stands demurely by his side.
The aftermath of this battle has shaken her up. She clutches pa’s hand, fingers trembling.
It’s certainly been terrifying for me. Fighting’s not all that it’s cracked up to be in the movies. My entire body is on fire, each muscle, bone, and tendon screeching for abatement. There’s nothing I can give. Preparing myself for next time is all I can control.
What’s more, burdening me is the extreme trepidation, loss, and grief that races through every corner and inch and crevice that makes up my body. I can’t leave my parents behind. This wasn’t part of the plan.
The plan was for me to continue abu's legacy. He created this operation, and I was supposed to keep it alive for as long as it took for the Angelics to make a difference in this world where recidivists wouldn’t be called recidivists, and we could live our lives openly and freely.
A world where no Scarlet Letters existed and no one had to pin a sign onto your chest, labeling you for the world to judge.
Now the operation is dying with me. My parents refuse to have it operational any longer.
“Mi corazón,” says ma before pulling me in. I almost burst into tears. “It may not be the life you always desired, but it’s the life you deserve. At least . . . at Proctus . . . you’re freer than you have ever been.”
That’s not true. She, pa, and abu have given me the best life I could have here. Here is all I’ve ever known. But maybe . . . perhaps, there is some semblance of truth to her words. Though, without them, what kind of life will it be?
And, reminding myself, isn’t this what I wanted? A life free of the bunker, away from responsibility, and abu's impossible shoes to fill.
“Can’t you come with?” I ask, breaking away from the embrace. My vision strictly finds Ambrosia, whose faux smile has shifted downwards. “Can’t they?”
“Of course they can,” she answers.
“But we can’t right now, hijo. We still have work to do,” says pa.
“What work—”
“Abuelo left much work to be done if we decided to end the operation. That time has come . . . It’s too much to explain in detail now, mijo, but we promise we will one day. When all is said and done, we’ll meet you at Proctus. Deal?” ma says.
“Deal,” I whisper and the dam in my eyes breaks.
“You did good. We love you,” my parents tell me.
That was hours ago. We traverse now through the miles and miles of desert stretch in Utah.
Ambrosia and Matt navigate up front while Mafu keeps me company at my side, though neither of us speaks.
The sun hangs low in the sky. Across our row, Conin and Ezra doze off.
I’m not sure how they can rest after everything, but good for them, I guess.
They don’t have to stew in their own self-deprecating thoughts.
Even when my parents were active in the church, I was never devoutly religious. I suppose that alluded to what my future held, discovering my queer and superpowered identities and how the world would treat me for them.
I find myself praying. For the first time in a very long time, I silence my mind and focus. I pray my parents will be safe and that I will get to see them again one day as they and Ambrosia promised.
Then grief bulldozes me over, more powerful than before. I grieve for abu's loss and his legacy. The operation ended today, but his legacy was strong, vibrant, and ceaseless. I hold on to that reassurance as we chart our course into a new life.