The Tomb of Shadows. Peter Lerangis
in the hands of the Jolly Red Giant now.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” I asked.
“I found some more of our people in the jungle,” he replied. “A small group, mostly injured and scared. I don’t know how they made it out. But along with the prisoners from the dorm—it’s a core, and who knows how many more we’ll find. I want to stay here with them. Build a force, if we can.”
“The Massa will wipe you out,” I said.
Fiddle gave me a wry grin. “Best brains. Biggest muscle power. Which would you bet on?”
“Good point,” I said. “I feel sorry for the Massa.”
I gave Fiddle a bear hug and scampered up the ladder. As I took a seat near Aly and Cass, Torquin squeezed his frame into the cockpit. From the back of the plane, Professor Bhegad’s voice called out feebly: “Children … Aly … Jack … Cass … Marco …”
He was lying on a set of cushions against the rear bulkhead. Dr. Bradley had managed to strap him down and was adjusting the drip on his IV.
“All here,” I said gently. “All three of us. Marco is … gone, Professor. Remember?”
Professor Bhegad looked confused for a moment. “Yes,” he finally said. “Of course …”
The engine started with a roar. “Belts!” Torquin said.
I strapped myself in. Over the engine noise I heard a high-pitched cry. I figured it was a seagull.
Until my eyes caught a motion at the edge of the jungle. People.
I shone my flashlight through the window. Two figures were running across the sand toward us, waving their arms. One of them was much faster—someone broad-shouldered, with a slightly bowlegged gait and flowing brown hair.
“Marco?” Aly said.
But my eyes were fixed on the other person—older, female, her head covered by a bandanna.
“Stop the plane!” Cass shouted. “Let’s find out.”
“Too late!” Torquin replied.
The jet began to turn. I grabbed binoculars from the floor and peered through. The woman and Marco stood shoulder to shoulder now, looking up at us. Shaking her head, she removed the bandanna and flung it to the ground.
The breath caught in my throat. As the jet turned its pontoons toward the water, the coast grew smaller. Smoke passed across the moon’s surface like lost ghosts.
“Jack?” Aly said. “What did you just see?”
I let the binocs drop from my fingers. “My mom.”
“HOW CAN YOU be sure?” Aly picked up the binoculars and tried to scan the shore, but it was too dark to see anything.
I was shaking. “The walk. The way she moved her head when she took off that bandanna. Her eyes …”
“You could see all that?” Aly asked.
“I could see enough,” I said.
Aly let out a deep breath. “So it’s true. The photo was real.”
“Which is a good thing, Jack,” Cass said. “Even if you don’t think so now. You have to have faith that you’ll meet her. That things will work out.”
“A mom who faked her own death.” I whirled around at him, angrier than I ever thought I’d be. “Who didn’t care enough to be in touch for six years. Who’s part of a team of killers and liars. How will that work out?”
“A mom who’s alive, when you thought she wasn’t,” Cass said softly.
I backed off, taking a deep breath. I’d seen Cass’s parents in a newspaper photo that Cass had kept in his backpack. The headline read “Mattipack Crime-Spree Couple Caught!” The mug shots showed two scowling people with bloated, angry faces.
“How do you have faith?” I asked. “Have you … have you ever tried to get in touch with your mom and dad?”
Cass nodded. “I called the prison a couple of years ago. It was weird. Mom couldn’t believe it was me. I talked a lot, but she didn’t say much. Just listened. When our time was up, I could hear that she was crying. She said ‘Love you, Cassius’—and then, click.”
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