Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,61

hiding them is connected to the Prism. Without all those contacts, I can’t get passports, visas, anything.” He let out a frustrated breath and then sat up, looking at Wara.

“We’ll go to plan B,” he announced. “I’ll put them on a bus to Lima this afternoon. They won’t check passports at the border, since they don’t look like tourists. We’ll take a taxi to Sacaba, that little town outside the city, and take a bus from there. The guys, hopefully, will only be watching the main terminal here in the city. They can get passports at the embassy there and take a flight to another country. It’s all so sudden, but we have enough money and I can make a new life for my family.” Alejo sighed slowly, watching Wara. “You should call the embassy to come pick you up,” he said.

Wara’s mind was reeling. Those guys she had seen on the mountain---they would forget about her soon though, right? She could go home, see her parents, find a new place to live and work? Come back to Bolivia someday?

At the moment, Wara didn’t care at all what she did or where she lived. Only two thoughts consumed her mind: Seeing the Martirs safe and out of this nightmare, and finding Noah Hearst.

“I can’t go without Noah.” The words slipped out before Wara realized it. Alejo looked at her sharply, mouth open as if about to protest but she cut him off. “I won’t leave Bolivia until I know.”

His mouth snapped shut, and he got up quickly and paced to the other bed, lowering himself down cross-legged on top of the unmade covers. He closed his eyes and massaged his temples even harder.

“I’ll stay with you until they know,” Alejo said finally. “My family can go on ahead, and we can meet them. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“But…” Wara tried to protest, but couldn’t come up with anything reasonable to say.

No, you go on. I’ll just ward off all of those killers myself. I did such a lovely job of it last time.

Alejo’s very presence in the room caused a veritable host of unpleasant sensations in Wara’s brain. So why did her heart flood with something like relief at his plan?

“Thank you,” was all she finally said, fighting hard not to cry.

21

cinnamon

THE HOSTAL SALTA SEEMED LONELY AND depressing after the Martirs left. When Alejo and Wara pulled up in front of the hostel in a white taxi, the street lamps were already gleaming upon the darkened sidewalk, though people still hustled by in both directions. Wara supposed it must be around seven o’clock—one hour after she had waved good-bye to the family who had been like her own. She had barely been able to make out each face, peering through the tinted windows of a sleek double-decker bus about to depart for Lima, Peru.

Alejo had convinced his family to follow his plan, then had them call a friend from church to bring clothes from the market and food for the trip.

All of the kids’ clothes and toys stayed behind. The faded photograph of missing Alejandro from Nazaret’s dresser. Anyone who brought things from the Martirs house could be followed back here to the hostel.

The younger kids climbed onto the bus at Sacaba with huge tears in their eyes. Silky gray rain clouds swirled across the evening sky, threatening a downpour as the entire Martir family boarded the bus that would take them away from Bolivia.

Nazaret sobbed as she hugged Wara, hesitated, and then threw herself at her brother, weeping against his chest. Alejo’s back had been towards her, but Wara had seen him put his arms around Nazaret until she pulled away.

Now, Wara stepped out of the taxi and slammed the door, facing the unlit stars of the hostel. She and Alejo, who had tried to kill her, were alone here together, and Wara had never felt so strange.

The faded pinstriped sheets and lumpy pillows were still waiting. Wara felt even more depressed as she entered their hostel room, realizing that Alejo was now her only company. Maybe she could call Nazaret on her long bus trip later, just to hear the sound of a known voice. Alejo had picked up several more cheap little prepaid cell phones from the VIVA shop, and given three to the Martirs, plus one to Wara. Wara had made one call to the Bennesons, to ask them to call her on this number as soon as there was any news about Noah.