Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment (11 page)

The room glided past him, and the next moment he was in front of her. He searched her depths, praying for the link to reveal itself. She respected the moment, drawing tentative breaths across parted lips. The delicate hand clasping the locket trembled. Neither of them spoke, and a distant part of Jake’s consciousness wondered if his new heart would stop cold at the sight of someone who resonated with his very existence.

“I—I’m glad you’re home,” she said softly.

Her voice was music. He nodded dumbly. Her worried expression told him that she sensed the turmoil that simmered inside him. Instinct shouted at him. He
needed
his memories to burst forth and reforge his connection to this woman. His future—his life—depended on it.

One breath became two.

Then three.

Four…

Nothing.

His disappointment was reflected on her face. Her expression collapsed into itself and she moved into his arms. They embraced for a long moment before she finally pulled away. He’d expected tears. Instead her eyes were filled with a fierce determination that gave him strength. They moved into the room.

“What matters, my love,” she said, “is that you have returned to us. The rest will come with time.” She paused before adding, “It must.”

He nodded.

“But first,” she said, blowing out a deep breath, “I would like to introduce you to your son.”

Friendship is the only cement that will ever hold the world together.

—Woodrow Wilson

Isola di San Michele

F
RANCESCA WAS A
mother. She knew how to hide behind a wall of feigned strength. But if the man before her—the father of her children—had been able to sense her emotions as easily as she could read his, he would know she was petrified.

Yes, she’d been overjoyed that Jake was alive. It was a miracle. Then her father had called to warn her that his memory was shattered. She’d steeled herself, preparing for the worst. But while she awaited his arrival, a part of her had nurtured a secret belief that the strength of their former love would break through the veil. She’d thought, how could it not? If she and Jake didn’t deserve a fairy-tale ending, then who did?

When he’d first sighted her, she had noticed a shadow of recognition cross his expression. Her heart had skipped and she had swelled with elation. Except for the hint of gray at the sideburns, he looked the same. The laugh lines, bold green eyes, and boyish mop of hair felt like home to her. Even his aura was the same.

But when she had searched his emotions, all she had found was a stranger’s hope.

Not love.

She sensed his longing for something more, and she felt his disappointment when it wasn’t there. It crushed her. But
she couldn’t show it. Instead, she called out over her shoulder, “Children!”

Alex was the first in the room. He approached without hesitation, stopping two paces in front of Jake. He held the tablet in his left hand. The room stilled as the boy and the man appraised one another. Francesca held her breath. Alex had a keen ability to sense the nature of those who came within his circle of consciousness. She knew that about him in a way that only a mother could. He shared her empathic gifts, and she sensed him calling on them now as he looked upon Jake.

Her heart was in her throat.

Ahmed and Sarafina stepped into the room. They gasped. Their wondrous expressions warned of a mad dash. But a simple gesture by Alex stopped them. His right hand hung loose at his side. His index finger carved lazy circles in the air, as if sending a silent appeal—or command. Something about the motion was mesmerizing. Francesca felt herself sway in concert with the gentle movement. Trepidation was nudged aside by a sense of serenity. The others must have felt it, too. They watched with rapt attention.

Jake crouched so that he was at eye level with his son. He appeared to be waiting for the moment to play out. They continued to study one another, and it seemed to Francesca as if invisible lines of packed emotion passed between them. After a moment, they both smiled. The crooked expressions were an exact match. Francesca sensed Alex’s contentment and she felt joy.

Alex lifted the tablet.

Francesca held her breath.

He tapped the screen, and a robotic voice responded from its speaker. “
Hello, Father
,” it said in English. “
I’ve been waiting for you.
”

Jake’s smile faded. “
Cosa?
”

Francesca stiffened. Her son had not expected the language barrier. He’d composed his message in English, knowing that
was his father’s native tongue. She sensed that the misunderstanding disturbed him. His normally confident expression was replaced by a little boy’s sadness. His finger stopped twirling.

The spell was broken. Sarafina rushed forward and threw herself into Jake’s arms. He nearly tumbled backward from the force of her charge.

“Daddy!” she cried out. She buried her face against his shoulder.

Ahmed moved beside them. Francesca sensed his desire to join in the embrace, but his touch phobia stopped him. “I’m so glad you’re back, Jake!” he rattled off in Italian. “We’ve got so much to talk about. It’s okay if you can’t speak English, because I can teach you. I’m good with languages, remember? I taught you Dari. So much has happened. Do you still speak Dari? Where have you been? Wait until you hear about—”

“Flip it,” Sarafina said between sobs.

“O-oh, yeah, sorry,” Ahmed said. He clenched his fists.

“It’s okay,” Jake said in Italian. “I know there is much to talk about.” He gave Sarafina a squeeze and pulled out of the embrace. He turned back to Alex. His features softened, and Francesca realized with a start that something had changed within him.

“My son,” he said in Italian. He reached out. Alex holstered his tablet. Then he stepped slowly into the embrace. After a moment’s hesitation, his fingers curled into the folds of Jake’s shirt. A lone tear ran down his cheek.

A wave of relief crashed over Francesca. Only in her dreams had she ever imagined such a sight. Sarafina moved beside her, and they absorbed the moment together. Jake captured Francesca’s gaze. She reveled in the emotions he radiated—loyalty, commitment, and the unbreakable bond of father and son.

It gave her hope.

Isola di San Michele

H
IS ENCOUNTER WITH
the boy—his son—changed everything for Jake. He felt warmth from the child that was unlike anything he’d ever known. It seemed to fill the room. A dam broke in Jake’s mind, and a flood of emotions burst forth. He felt a sudden bond with the people around him—a depth of feeling normally possible only after years of association.

Francesca captured his gaze. It seemed as if she had sensed the change. The longing he saw in her eyes stirred him. It took force of will to break contact and take in the others.

They were family.

He trusted them.

He cared about them.

But he didn’t remember them.

The link with Alex had unlocked doors to previously held emotions. But memories of his past remained hidden. The juxtaposition made him dizzy. A part of him wanted to rush forth and embrace them all. Another warned him to keep the revelation to himself.

The choice was made for him when a gondolier rushed in and shouted, “We’ve captured one of them!”

Thirty minutes later, the prisoner sat in a chair in the center of the room. His hands were bound behind him and there was a
hood over his head. Blood leaked from a bandaged wound on his arm. The kids had been ushered back to their room. The rest of them surrounded the man.

“I’m goin’ first,” Tony growled. The knuckles on his ham-size fists were white.

Jake couldn’t interpret the words, but he understood the sentiment well enough. The man in the chair represented everything that had gone wrong in the past twenty-four hours.

Francesca edged closer and translated the discourse.

“Take it easy, big guy,” Marshall said, placing a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “This is Mario’s show.”

The old gondolier stepped forward and removed the hood. There was a collective gasp from those around him. Including Jake. He recognized the man immediately. It was the American who’d saved his life in Focette.

The man blinked against the sudden brightness, grunting behind the strip of duct tape on his mouth. Mario ripped it off.

“Jeez!” the man said, sounding more like a teenager than someone in his late twenties. “Am I glad to see you.”

Everyone seemed to speak at once.

“Timmy?” Marshall asked. “What the heck are you doing here?”

“Wait a minute,” Lacey interjected. “I remember you!”

“Doc’s friend,” Tony said. “You helped get us out of Venezuela.”

“You were at Jake’s funeral,” Francesca added softly. “But you knew he wasn’t dead?”

The room stilled.

Timmy turned to Jake. He blew out a breath. “It’s a long story.”

Francesca’s voice was choked as she translated his words.

Timmy’s brow pinched in confusion. “Hold on,” he said, studying Jake. “You spoke English just yesterday. Don’t you remember what happened in the parking lot?” He rubbed his wrists after
Tony used his pocketknife to cut through his bindings. “You moved like a bat out of hell to lay into those dudes.”

The knuckles on Jake’s right hand were still raw. He recalled the fight.

Timmy continued, “Then you bandaged me up. Spoke English. Knew my name.”

The scene was cloudy in Jake’s mind. “I only remember you telling me to come to Venice,” he said in Italian.

Timmy slumped. “I thought the mini had brought you back for good,” he said. “Where is it, anyway?”

“The mini?”

Francesca continued to translate between the two men.

“Yeah,” Timmy said. “The miniature pyramid. Let me see it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Timmy’s jaw slackened. “Oh, no.”

He told them what he knew. About Jake’s new heart, the coma, and the top secret center where he’d been kept alive. About their inability to bring him to consciousness using conventional methods.

“It all came to a head six months ago,” he said, “when the two pyramids appeared in orbit.”

“I remember that,” Lacey said. “It trended on Twitter for a couple days.”

Marshall said, “Until the government explained them away as secret Chinese satellites.”

“A cover-up,” Timmy said.

“But the Chinese confirmed it,” Marshall objected.

“They were a part of it. In fact, every major government in the world was a part of it. They still are.”

Marshall’s eyes widened as if a sudden realization dawned on him. “Wait a second,” he said. “Are you saying those satellites are actually the same two pyramids that Jake launched from Afghanistan and Venezuela?”

“Afraid so.”

A chill fell over the group. Francesca summed it up for Jake in Italian, but he was having difficulty absorbing what he was hearing.
I launched a pyramid from Venezuela, too?

Marshall was the first to speak. “I thought it was supposed to take them forty years to travel back and forth between Earth and their home planet.”