Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128083 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 640(@200wpm)___ 512(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
He trained his gaze on the black-haired man for several heart-pounding moments. It appeared he was beginning to crouch or brace for a bullet or something, and Cyrus held his breath as he began to raise his hands. Then, just when the nose picker was close enough to reach for him, Cyrus hurled the fistfuls of dirt in his face and dove to the right.
The man screeched, bringing a hand to what had been his one good eye as he waved the gun toward Cyrus.
But Cyrus was already on the ground, and so when the black-haired man let out a roar and began rushing forward, the blinded kidnapper swung in his direction, firing repeatedly. Cyrus covered his ears again, crawling away breathlessly as the shots missed and the black-haired man went low and then slammed into the nose picker with a loud thwack.
The kidnapper bellowed and stumbled backward, both men now fighting for the gun. They grunted and wrestled, and it seemed like the black-haired man was moving in a circle, the bad guy with his eyes clenched shut forced to follow what looked like a weird dance.
Cyrus’s back hit a tree trunk, and he watched in stunned silence as the black-haired man twisted out of the nose picker’s grasp.
The man with the gun raised his weapon again and began firing wildly. Cyrus’s eyes felt like they were nearly popping out of his head as the black-haired man ducked and stayed low and then stepped right to the edge of the cliff and said, “Missed me.”
The blinded kidnapper whirled in his direction and fired as the black-haired man leaped around behind him, put his hands flat on the nose picker’s back, and pushed. The man who’d imprisoned Cyrus stumbled forward, screaming as he flailed his arms and went flying over the edge of the cliff. Moments later there was a soft thwack from below.
For a full minute, Cyrus didn’t move, his breath sawing from his chest as his heart continued to pound. The man turned, his mouth set in a thin line as the sounds of the forest returned. Birds. A small animal scampering somewhere close by. The distant roar of water.
The man walked toward Cyrus and knelt down slowly in front of him. He took Cyrus’s shaking hands and held them in his. “Hi, Cyrus. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Are, are you one of them?” His voice sounded tinny, not his own.
“Them? The bad guys? No. My name is Rex, and I’m here to help you. I’m here to bring you home.”
His lungs felt so tight, like he’d run a hundred miles, and his skin felt clammy. His heart was finally starting to feel like it wasn’t slamming against the wall of his chest. “Rex,” he repeated.
“Yes.” The man named Rex reached into his back pocket, brought out a wallet, opened it, and handed Cyrus a card.
Cyrus took it and read it over. Rex Lowe. It was an employee ID. “You work for the NSA?”
“I do. They didn’t send me, but I hope knowing who I am makes you feel safe enough to come with me now.”
This man, Rex, had saved him from the nose picker. But having proof that he was who he said he was helped even more, and the fact that he worked for the NSA seemed good too. But what really made his breath come easier was the other card Cyrus saw in his wallet. He pointed to it, and Rex plucked that one out.
It was a benefits card. “You were in the army?” Cyrus asked.
“I was,” Rex said. “That card is old, but yes, I was an army man.”
“My dad was too,” Cyrus said.
Rex smiled, and it seemed kind of sad, like maybe he already knew Cyrus’s dad was dead. He watched as Rex put the cards back in his wallet and returned it to his pocket.
Cyrus had learned how to read people by looking in their eyes, and he did that now. His dad had told him you could tell a lot that way. This man, Rex, had the same seriousness that Mr. Abdullah had, and he had the same niceness as his dad. And they’d both been soldiers. Good guys. “I’ll come with you,” Cyrus said.
“Thank you,” Rex said back. And then Cyrus followed Rex away from the canyon, through the trees, until he could hear the sound of traffic in the distance.
What he hadn’t yet told this man named Rex Lowe, this soldier, was that he couldn’t take him home, because Cyrus didn’t have one of those anymore.
He was no longer behind bars, but he didn’t know if he’d ever truly be safe again.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cami paced on the porch, her hands shaking as she picked up her phone again, swearing softly when she saw that Rex still hadn’t texted her back. Or called.