Authors: Hayes Farley

Alex Armstrong: Awakening (29 page)

BOOK: Alex Armstrong: Awakening

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He remembered Sonnier calling President Joyce and getting angry when he didn’t answer. He muttered something and slipped his phone in his back pocket only to immediately grab it again when it vibrated. He turned and walked away, but not before Alex heard those first words: “They knew.”

He walked back after a while and handed the phone to Alex.

“Sir?”

“Alex, Sonnier’s told me everything. I’m so sorry. This has never happened during a Greyjean…”

Alex listened without hearing. His mind was cloudy. He was tired. Even as the president kept talking, the only words playing in his head were those spoken by Roka. “Sir?”

“Yes, Alex?”

“He said you started it. That this was all part of some larger war that you started.”

There was a pause. “Alex—”

“Is it true?” He looked at the SUV, the logs, the bullet casings, the blood.

“Alex, what you’re asking demands a long answer that should not take place over the phone.”

“But—”

“No, Alex. You have my word that I will tell you everything, but now is not the time. Your thoughts should be with Brady, your teammates, your friends, your—”

“Dad. I haven’t called my dad.” He felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to go home.

“Then quit talking to me and call him, for God’s sake.”

“Yes sir.”

“And Alex?”

“Sir?”

“Thank you.”

Now he remembered why he was standing here at the edge of the pier. He was going to call his dad. Alex turned away from the water and pulled out his phone. It was dead. He pushed the button a few more times just to be sure. He went to find Sonnier.

Alex rounded the corner of the log wall and saw the professor talking to a man not wearing a suit. “Dad?”

Mr. Armstrong turned at the sound of his son’s voice. “You never called.”

Alex rushed into his arms and closed his eyes and buried his nose into his dad’s jacket and started sobbing. He felt his dad’s arms and hands around his back and they felt better than any bulletproof vest. He didn’t want to move.

Mr. Armstrong waited until the sobs turned into sniffles before grabbing his son’s shoulders and holding him at arm’s length. He felt thicker, stronger. And though his eyes were bloodshot, they were even bluer than he remembered. He watched Alex try to smile, but the attempt was cut short by another bout of sniffles. Mr. Armstrong pulled him in again. He turned to Sonnier and thanked him. The professor rubbed his thick hand on Alex’s head and walked away.

“I was so scared, Dad.”

“I know, buddy. I know.” He squeezed a little harder.

It was a long while before either of them spoke. A car door shut. Then another. Alex pulled away just enough to see his dad’s face. He looked older. “You were right, you know.” His dad smiled but didn’t say anything. “About me being made for this place. You were right.”

Mr. Armstrong sighed. His smile suddenly looked a little sadder. “I was hopin you forgot about that.”

“Why?”

“Cause I hear you say those words, and I think I know what it means. Alex, there’s no shame in walkin away. You don’t have to do this anymore. You can go back to bein a normal kid.”

“But—but what you said before.”

“Buddy, I know, it’s just—well I didn’t think it’d lead to this.” Mr. Armstrong glanced at the SUV.

Alex saw the glassiness in his father’s eyes. “Dad, they need me.”

“Buddy,
I
need you.”

Alex smiled. He hugged his dad again. There was so much to tell him, but right now, none of it mattered. And so he didn’t say a word, just pulled tighter and tighter.

About the Author

Hayes Farley lives in Ponte Vedra Beach, Florida, with his wife Dawn and daughter Mackenzie. When he’s not reading or writing or changing diapers, he can be found at the golf course, hoping that with enough practice he might one day hit a fade.

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Acknowledgments

I’ll start with my family. Dawn, I know it sometimes took me a while to switch out of writing mode, so thank you for putting up with me when I wasn’t as engaged as I should have been. You’re the best. Oh, and I love you most.

Mom and Dad, your support and encouragement got me through the days when self-doubt crept into my brain. Thank you for always being there for me. And Kacy, you may not know this, but I owe you big time for pointing out a pretty major flaw with someone that will be a very major character. Thanks, Sister!

A big shout out to my beta readers: Brenda, Brian, Clayton, Renee, and Wendy. Your comments and suggestions were invaluable during the editing process.

Speaking of editing, this book wouldn’t be anywhere near as smooth as it is without the help of Mollie Mohr Turbeville. Mollie’s an incredibly gifted editor, and I consider myself lucky to have found her. I can’t wait to have her tear through another Alex Armstrong novel.

And how about that cover! That’s the work of Jeroen ten Berge, my friendly and awesomely talented cover designer. Not only is Jeroen blessed with an artistic brain, but he lives in New Zealand. I am officially jealous.

Last but not least, I want to give a special thanks to Chris Regas. Without him, this novel never would have happened.

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