Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,62
Explaining why they shouldn’t give the number to anyone else had been tricky, as was trying to tell them why she wasn’t at home in the apartment below theirs, and couldn’t come back for safety reasons.
Why am I here with Alejo, instead of letting the U.S. Embassy pick me up and take care of me until I know about Noah? After hanging up with the Bennesons, the question had bothered her.
Because the Embassy doesn’t even seem to believe what is going on, Wara realized. You don’t know them. Alejo is a Martir—and you know him.
That’s crazy! Wara had scolded herself. He’s one of them!
Alejo closed the door and turned on the light. Thirty seconds of silence filled the room, as both of them sunk down onto one of the beds, listless. Then he sighed and asked: “Do you want to go to La Paz? The search and rescue efforts are working from there, and it’s the closest major hospital.”
Wara stared at him, feeling very weary, having a hard time understanding what he was saying. Did she want to go to La Paz?
Of course! If they find Noah that would be where they would take him, the best major hospital. Noly said that Noah’s parents were going to be in La Paz, waiting.
But Wara couldn’t decide what she wanted to do at all, except that she wanted to see her best friend who she loved again. “I don’t know,” she finally said hoarsely. “What do you think?”
Alejo looked away. “They’ve been searching for two days now, and they should be done soon. Noah lived here; the funeral will—would be—in Cochabamba. I think you should stay here.”
His words hit Wara like a punch in the gut. Everything Alejo said sounded so logical, but the cold reality of making such a decision based on the fact that the funeral would be here…For a moment she couldn’t breathe. It took her a long time to collect her thoughts and say, weakly, “Ok.”
All day she had waited with bated breath, feeling that any phone call could bring news that Noah had been found, alive. But hearing Alejo say that he expected the news would be about the funeral brought Wara back down to reality with a very painful crash.
After a long while she heard Alejo say, “I told Danny downstairs that we’re checking out tonight. We need to move to another place—it won’t be that hard for the guys to show our picture to reception at all of the cheap hostels in Cochabamba, and the longer we stay in one place, the more time they have to do that.” His voice sounded tight, but calm, not as bone-weary as Wara herself felt.
“Alright,” she managed. Her eyes were closed, and she felt her breathing slow, suddenly so relaxed she felt almost one with the sagging mattress underneath her. She cleared her throat and mumbled, “Right now?”
The thought crossed Wara’s mind that if she never got up off this bed again, that would be perfectly fine.
“Yeah, right now,” Alejo said, almost sounding apologetic. “We need to get going. And besides, now’s a good time. We’ll be going under cover of darkness.”
Wara cracked open her eyes and raised one eyebrow at him. His hazel eyes were watching her, expression unreadable. “Fine,” she answered him, sliding her eyes back shut. “But I think you’ll have to pack my bag for me.”
A joke, since her belongings consisted of two changes of clothes the Martirs’ friend had brought her from the market, along with a toothbrush and shampoo.
Alexis’ shiny-reared sweat pants and wombat shirt had found their final resting place in the bathroom trash can.
Wara realized that Alejo had actually gotten up and was bringing her toothbrush from the bathroom. He made sure it was inside the brown plaid bag that had also come from the market, and then slung that and a black backpack that had been brought for him over his shoulder.
“Ready?” he asked, standing near the door. “I promise you can sleep when we get to our new place.”
Wara sighed loudly and rolled off the bed, hanging on to the side until she was steady. Her bleary gaze fell on Alejo, and she thought he didn’t look quite as threatening now that he was no longer wearing the military-style cargo pants and sweaty gray t-shirt from up on the mountain. He actually looked rather normal now in dark jeans, a hunter green hoodie, and leather tennis shoes.
“Are they going to find them?” she asked groggily, as she followed