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“He’s alive.”
Running a quivering finger over the blurred image of his face, I can’t deny that it looks like him. Like my Saint. And the poster behind him, advertising a night market in the main street of Moscow, reveals he was alive as of two days ago. But the picture depicts a startling scene.
He isn’t there by choice as he is being shoved by an unknown assailant into the back seat of a car.
“I-I saw him d-die.” My eyes are fixed to the screen, waiting for Zoey to yell surprise! This is her way of getting back at me for everything I’ve done to her.
But she doesn’t. “Did you? No one found his body, and that picture proves he’s still alive.”
My mind flicks over the last moments I saw him. He was shot, and then the room exploded around him because he detonated the bomb strapped to his chest. But she’s right. From what Alek and I could find, he wasn’t listed as one of the dead.
But I can’t accept this. It’s too painful if she’s wrong.
“Get out of h-here! All o-of you!” I drop the phone, unable to look at the man who looks like Saint a second longer. Turning my back, I thread my fingers through my snarled hair, unable to accept this as truth.
But Zoey won’t give up. “I know it’s hard to believe, but I’m telling you the truth.”
“How do you know?” I spin around, unable to keep my feelings under control.
I’m expecting her to break into laughter, ridiculing me for being such a naïve fool. But she does neither. She takes a long breath, leveling me with nothing but sincerity. “Because…Iwas the one who blew that hellhole to the ground.”
Nothing I can say will express what I’m feeling right now. But it doesn’t matter because Zoey speaks for us all.
“He’s alive…I know where he is…and I need your help to get him out.”
They say one’s life flashes before their eyes before they die, which is why I am certain I’m seconds away from embracing death. I surrender to the darkness, unsure what the light will bring.
