by Toby Tate
But that was fine with her.
Chapter Sixty-Four
The base doctor at Al Dhafra had confirmed that One Shot had a bullet wound in his shoulder that had gone in above his Dragon Skin vest and another bullet had grazed his skull, rendering him unconscious. He would be out of commission for a while, but he would live.
He also confirmed that Gordon’s ankle had been sprained, and he was forced to walk with a crutch, much to his chagrin. But at least he was still around, for which Gabe was thankful. Losing Mac had made her an emotional train wreck, and the thought of losing Gordon had been terrifying, something she hadn’t been prepared for. Was their budding relationship just a re-bound, or was it the real thing? She figured only time would tell.
During all the chaos of the past few days, Gabe had put the pain of her wounded finger out of her mind, as she had been trained to do. Luckily, she was right-handed and the wound was in her left index finger, so it hadn’t interfered with her ability to fire a weapon. But it still throbbed, a reminder of what some people would do to get what they wanted. She had kept it bandaged and the doctor had said it was healing and wouldn’t need stitches. She was just glad that it was still attached.
After leaving the base hospital, Scooter rented a flatbed tractor trailer with a wench and he, Max and Mad Dog went back for the Little Bird and loaded it up onto the C5. Later that day, Gabe and Gordon parted ways with him and his crew, watching as the huge plane disappeared in the distance like some prehistoric pterosaur.
Then Gabe had to do what she knew was one of the hardest things anyone in her line of work did—tell someone that their loved one was dead.
She went to Lydia’s tent and sat with her on the cot, telling her the entire story from the last few days; that Abel had given his life to save them all. But Lydia’s reaction wasn’t quite what she expected.
“Before he died, he came to me in a dream and told me everything that he was going to do, and that he loved me and would see me again on the other side,” she said. “I know that someday soon, we will be together again.” Gabe hoped that Lydia was right, that indeed they would see each other again. Lydia reached out and took her hand. “I want to thank you for all you’ve done for us, for Dr. al-Shamari and his family, for Abel and me,” she continued. “If it wasn’t for you, we would still be in Saudi Arabia and they would probably have jailed us—or worse.” She gave Gabe a hug, and Gabe felt her eyes begin to water, but managed to hold back the tears. She held Lydia at arm’s length and looked into her soft, brown eyes.
“You’re a very brave woman, Lydia, I want you to know that,” Gabe said. “Giving of yourself the way you did, going to Abel all those months and showing him kindness when most women would have just done their jobs, well...that took a lot of courage.”
Lydia smiled. “It wasn’t so hard. God made a way, and Abel was an easy man to love. He had a good heart.”
* * *
With a few phone calls, Gabe got the group transportation to Washington DC on a flight out of Abu Dhabi International Airport. The following day they were debriefed at Langley, and warned that they were never to discuss anything that had happened in the last few weeks.
Several thousand people had witnessed the intense light shooting from the sky into the middle of the desert; even from hundreds of miles away it was as bright as the sun itself. Astronauts on the International Space Station, several pilots and their crews and passengers, and people in nearby cities had all witnessed the spectacular event, and it had been broadcast live on several news channels across the world. Everyone had been told the same lie—the beam was simply a disturbance caused by fluctuations in the earth’s magnetic field, or some such bullshit. NASA and NOAA said that although the magnetic field had indeed been weakened somewhat, there was no threat of a pole shift—at least for now.
Gabe was not surprised by the fact that somehow, the CIA overlooked Gordon’s pocketing of forty million dollars off the deal he made with the Saudis, and she was glad. But when it came down to it, what could they really do? He may have instigated things, but he also saved their asses, and probably the entire world. Besides, the existence of the Lilitu had never been acknowledged by the US Government and never would be. So that was that.
Lydia, al-Shamari and his family were given green cards by the United States Citizenship and Immigration Services until they could take their tests for US citizenship. They were offered jobs working for the Department of Agriculture, which they accepted.
All that was left for Gabe and Gordon to do was take a much-needed vacation, which they did—together.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Lydia lay in the dark of her new apartment in Washington DC, staring up at the ceiling as a police siren wailed somewhere in the distance. She had called her family and told them everything that had happened, and begged them to come to the US, but her father had lived his entire life in Saudi Arabia, and even though he was a Christian and often suffered persecution, he did not mind. He loved his country and vowed to stay there, and to help make things better for people of their faith. Whether or not he would ever be successful, he said he would leave that up to God. Lydia only wished that she had his faith. She spoke to her mother only shortly and they cried and then said their goodbyes. Lydia did not know if she would ever see them again.
After arriving in the US, she had felt sad and lonely, thinking often about Abel as the emptiness settled in the pit of her stomach like a virus. She had no pictures, no photo albums to page through, nothing but memories—but she was okay with that. She took comfort in the fact that, even though he had not been one hundred percent human, she knew God had still made a place for him in heaven.
After a while, she knew she would begin to make friends at her new job at the Department of Agriculture. She was still working with Dr. al-Shamari, which made her very happy. He was a wonderful man, despite some of the things he had done while in Saudi Arabia. But she knew he had been forced into them to protect his family. If she were in his place, she would likely have done the same. So far, they had been working with the Agricultural Research Service, doing much of the same work they had done before—manipulating plant genomes. She had thrown herself into it, which may or may not have been a healthy way to deal with her grief and anxiety about the future, but at least it was putting bread on the table.
Driving would still take some getting used to, especially with the way other drivers tended to cut her off. They were not as bad as the ones in Saudi Arabia, but a man had always driven when she lived there, either in a taxi or with her father or Dr. al-Shamari. The building where they worked was not nearly as nice as the one in Riyadh, but it was definitely big, and near the Smithsonian, which was a plus, because she loved the museums.
In fact, she found that she liked the US more than England in many ways—the weather wasn’t always foggy and the people seemed friendlier, more open to foreigners. The crime rate was a bit high for her taste and she didn’t like walking around alone at night, but she learned not to avert eyes as she had back home. She held her head straight and looked people in the eye and smiled at both men and women. At first she felt naked without her abaya, but since she wasn’t Muslim, she was not obligated to wear one. She did see several women wearing them, however, but in America all religions were accepted, which was one of the customs that she found so endearing.
Many of the other things were the same as in Saudi Arabia—everyone seemed to have an iPhone and at least two cars, a house, a television, or even two or three televisions, and any of the other things money could buy. It wasn’t necessarily a bad thing to have material possessions, but she wasn’t going to let herself revel in the excesses of the modern world, as tempting as that was. As the scripture says, “The love of money is a root of all kinds of evil.”
There were still many customs she would have to get used to living in America, but with the help of God and her friends, she would manage. In a few short years, she would apply for full citizenship, and once she took the test and was approved, she
would be free to do anything she wanted. In the meantime, she would be patient.
She glanced over at the clock—four a.m. Earlier today, she had learned some alarming yet wonderful news and wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to sleep.
At first, there was the spotting and cramping, followed by sore, swollen breasts and fatigue. Yesterday she had made a trip to the pharmacy, but didn’t have the nerve to take the test until today. The blue strip convinced her that her fears were well-founded—she was pregnant.
But then she realized she had nothing to fear. Unwed pregnancy, while a sin, was not frowned upon in this country as it was where she had come from. By the time she was ready to give birth, she would have friends that would help her and stand by her side while she was in the hospital.
The rest of the day, she wondered what the baby would be like, whether he or she would have the powers his father had, and she also wondered how she could have gotten pregnant in the first place, considering Abel wasn’t human. But he had been part human, and apparently, that was enough.
She tried to think of a name, but decided that she would wait until she knew the sex before doing so. She would have to work the name Abel in somehow and maybe Gabrielle if it was a girl and Faisal if it was a boy, after Dr. al-Shamari.
But there was plenty of time for that. Right now, she really needed to get to sleep. She had to work tomorrow. Lydia rested a hand on her still-flat belly, and felt warmth rising up inside of her, as if Abel’s spirit was somewhere nearby, comforting her, telling her that everything would be okay, to just have faith. Soon, she drifted off into a deep sleep and dreamed of white-haired, silver-eyed children.
Chapter Sixty-Six
Gabe lay in a pink bikini on the sun shelf of Gordon’s pool, soaking up the rays and letting the cool water lap over her brown skin. Sea gulls squawked somewhere in the distance and she could smell grilling lobster tails from the kitchen on the deck, courtesy of Gordon’s family friend and butler, Azeem.
She smiled at the site of Sampson lying at the pool side, basking in the sun and looking like he never had it so good. She turned and glanced at Gordon, who lay next to her in a bathing suit and sunglasses, a bottle of Belikin beer next to his head. His ankle was still wrapped in a bandage with a waterproof bandage protector over it. So far, he hadn’t complained about it once. Gabe figured he was just so happy to be home, he didn’t care.
“So, what are your plans?” she asked.
“Plans? Right now my plans are to drink beer and enjoy my vacation.”
“Were you surprised that they offered you your old job back? Especially after the stunt you pulled.”
“Were you surprised I told them that I’d think about it?”
“No, not really. I figured that you don’t need the money.”
“You figured right.”
“But I figured something else, too.”
“And what would that be?”
“That you can’t really stay away from it. Let’s face it, you would get bored here on this island after a while. At least with the agency you have a purpose in life.”
He turned to look at her. “Who says I don’t have a purpose?”
“What are you going to do out here all by yourself? Operate a ham radio? Fly kites? Scuba dive? Don’t you want to make some kind of contribution to society?”
“Haven’t I already? I just saved society.”
“You had a little help.”
Gordon looked back up at the sky. “That may be true, but I don’t think you can say I haven’t made a contribution.”
“I’m not saying that. I’m just saying...”
“What?”
“Well, as much as I love the island, I can’t stay here with you, Gordon. I still feel like I have a lot more to do in the CIA. I mean, I am twenty-three years younger than you.”
“You make a good point.”
“So, what does that mean...for us?”
Gordon sighed. “Well, there’s no way I’m leaving the island.”
Gabe’s heart sank into her stomach. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she was falling, had fallen, for Gordon over the last few days. All that they had been through, everything they had experienced made her feelings for him that much stronger. At first, she had thought that maybe he just reminded her of her father, or that she was just rebounding after losing a former lover, or anything other than the truth—that she loved him. And now, laying here beside him and hearing those words, she was devastated.
Then, he turned to look at her again and said, “I guess we’ll just have to make this a summer home.”
She blinked her eyes at him. “What are you saying?”
Gordon’s hand reached out for hers and she took it. “I guess I’m saying what I’ve wanted to say all along, Gabrielle—that I love you. Maybe I’m old fashioned, and yes, I’m fifty years old and have one foot in the grave...” Gabe stifled a laugh, “but if joining the CIA means being with you, then I’m all in.”
She squeezed his hand. “Gordon, that’s great. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”
“Oh, and one more thing.”
“What’s that?”
A hand suddenly appeared between them with something in it—a small box. She looked up and saw Azeem grinning down at her. He opened the box and inside was a gold ring with the biggest diamond Gabe had ever seen outside of a museum. Her mouth fell open.
“How do you feel about marriage?” Gordon said.
She rarely did things on impulse, and she had only known Gordon a short time. Was she really ready for a commitment like this? And then, there was the age factor, and the fact that he was in love with himself, and many other shortcomings that she was sure to learn about.
He also saved your life, Gabrielle. And how often do you find a man who can put up with your bullshit and still love you?
Gabe did a double roll across the sun deck, spilling Gordon’s beer in the process, and plopped her wet body on top of his. She gazed down through her sunglasses at him, an impish smile on her face.
“I think it’s great,” she said, and kissed him.
Epilogue
Republic of the Marshall Islands
It had been over a year since he had awakened to this living nightmare. He was at the point now of giving up on ever knowing who he was or what had happened to the black hole he called a brain. He simply trudged on from place to place, job to job, trying to live some semblance of a normal life. He had, of course, tried to see doctors, to find out what had happened, but the other would not allow it. To disobey meant pain—agonizing, unendurable headaches like needles of fire in his temples—so he gave up trying to fight it. He could not outmaneuver it, because it was inside his own mind, knew his every move before he made it. But he had finally decided that it was not a schizophrenic split inside his brain—it was something else, an entity that came from outside to inhabit, or rather share, this body. It was intolerable, and he had tried talking to it, begging it to leave him with ranting, tear-filled pleas, but to no avail.
He had tried other measures—suicide, for instance—but the entity would not allow it. Every time he tried, the razor would slip from his hand, the pills would fall from his grip, the electricity would inexplicably go out, or his feet would simply not move to the ledge no matter how much he willed them to. The other seemed unable or unwilling to actually control his thoughts, but it could control his actions and could definitely block his memory, and in fact had done so quite effectively. Up until a year ago, he remembered absolutely nothing.
He knew that to continue on this course would eventually drive him mad, and since he could not talk about it or tell anyone, he pushed on like a wounded soldier on the battlefield, doing what he had to do to survive. He made up a name—Sam Smith—and after working at nearly every job under the sun found a job as a deck hand on an oil freighter, quickly gaining the confidence and admiration of the captain and crew and working his way up to third mate. When he first took the employment exam, he realized h
e knew the answer to every question and was thoroughly familiar with ships and shipboard life. Had he been a mariner before his “accident?” It seemed so. Perhaps he had been in the Navy—there was no way to tell. The other was filtering things out; only letting through what it thought he...they...needed to know to survive.
It never spoke to him, at least not directly—it was just biding its time, waiting for...what? That, he did not know. He felt somehow that the other was also learning, becoming accustomed to this planet, learning its way around. After all, it was from another place, somewhere outside the earth, perhaps another solar system. It was like a child, and yet it had power to control his memory and his actions, possibly his thoughts, but so far he didn’t think it was doing that. Then again, how would he be able to tell whether they were his thoughts, or its thoughts?
Sam had discovered that he had power, as well—power beyond that of a normal human. He could lift an impossible amount of weight—he had once raised the front of his Ford Ranger three feet off the ground with one hand. The most he had ever seen a man lift was three hundred pounds on a bench press. He had a photographic memory, could remember most things after seeing them only once. He also had a strange rapport with animals. One rainy, dreary day, he had gone to apply for the mariner’s job and a German shepherd that had been guarding the pier advanced on him, crouched low and growling, ready to attack. There was no one there to call the dog back, and he had panicked and began to run. The dog chased him, and hearing the dog gaining ground behind him, he turned and willed it to stop running and sit—and it did. The ship’s second mate had come out to the pier and found him petting the animal as if they had been old friends.
Sam had other notions, as well—that he could control the weather, or even create a storm out of nothing but blue sky, but so far he hadn’t tried. He found that if he concentrated, he could see through solid objects, like x-ray vision, but only thin materials like cardboard or plywood, not steel; at least, not yet. He thought about trying to fly, but knew that was ridiculous. He wasn’t Superman.
