Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,96

fist into his knee. “Gabo, don’t do this!”

But of course everyone realized that he already had.

“I have always been a faithful Muslim,” Gabriel’s eyes bored into theirs from the screen, “except for a few indiscretions where I allowed my heart to get ahead of my faithful service to Allah. For that, I offer my life now in jihad, against the injustices of the world and against the unrighteousness in my own heart. I pray Allah will purify me by fire and accept me into Paradise.”

Wara struggled to inflate her frozen lungs. Had Gabriel thought he disobeyed God by letting her and Alejo go?

“I know that certain people will be very ticked off that I did this.” Gabriel’s mouth twisted wryly again, and he lowered the violin to his side. “But please know that I really cared about you all, all of my friends, and am thankful to have enjoyed so many good memories together. I’ll miss the brownies, the trips, all our conversations over coffee. But then again, I may not miss them at all. I think that in Paradise all those things will fade into memory, because I’m sure that life there is pretty good.”

Gabriel lowered his lashes, then looked up and started to walk towards the camera. “This was a very strange video of this type, I know. I have always been a very quirky guy. I’ll be waiting for all you guys, so please don’t disappoint me, ok?”

He disappeared to the side of the screen, leaving for one moment the view of the huge Palestinian flag, hanging in silence. Then the video was cut, and the only thing visible was an advertisement from YouTube.

Alejo was bowed over onto his knees, sobbing. Wara was stunned to see stern Alejo sitting there, crying like a baby.

Rupert obviously had expected his.

“I thought that you might know him,” he said in a gravelly voice. “Of course, this is what happened to the Hotel Diplomat this afternoon. I also have a video taken from a camera phone found in the rubble, of the actual detonation, which you will not be allowed to see.”

Wara sucked in a deep breath, fighting nausea.

“The embassy wasn’t really investigating anything after the phone call you made, not yet. But with these videos, the investigation starts for real. The U.S., Bolivia, and Israel will be combing every corner to find out who the man in the video is, and who is connected to him.”

It could have been Wara’s imagination, but Rupert’s blue eyes seemed a little misty and his face wore the look of a man who had lost many comrades in his day.

“I---I think I need to go to lay down,” Wara stammered, standing up shakily and facing Sandal. “Can…is there a room here where I can sleep?”

“Of course,” Sandal understood perfectly. “I’ll take you to your room. We will all be here tomorrow.”

Feeling faint, Wara left the office and the sound of Alejo’s tears.

31

plaid

ALEJO WOKE THE NEXT MORNING WITH a cool breeze rustling the gauze curtains and caressing his face. He was lying on his stomach on a single bed with thick wool blankets in a room with walls that smelled of cedar. His limbs felt like lead and his heart torn to pieces, but he forced himself to sit up on the edge of the bed and breathe.

The man Wara loved was dead, thanks to Alejo

Gabriel had blown himself to pieces in jihad, trying to make Allah love him. Alejo still remembered the scoffing tone of his friend’s voice in the delivery truck when Alejo told him his decision about Jesus: “The Quran tells us everything we need to please God. And I’ve been doing it all. We are the best of the best, che. Why would we need some person to take away our sins? We are serving Allah every day. We’re not unbelievers who don’t follow his laws. He’s got to accept me.”

What better way to earn Allah’s favor than as a suicide bomber, making the ultimate sacrifice to do Allah’s will?

Except man can’t earn God’s favor. Alejo resisted the urge to sink back down onto the bed, depressed. Only the Savior of the world can atone for the sins of men.

Everyone is dead, Alejo thought. My life is a mess. God, I can’t think about anything but Wara’s tortured eyes as she misses Noah, or Gabriel, shouting Allah Akbar and pulling the detonation cord.

Alejo groaned and leaned forward onto his knees. Last night, after Alejo had composed himself, Rupert told him that,