Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
“By whose definition?” she asked. But then she smiled and waved her hand as if to disregard her statement. “Good luck to you too, Samael.”
Sam left the apartment. Back out on the street, he pulled his ball cap low again, stuffing his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, trying to make himself as indistinct as possible as he walked back toward the subway station. Why did you come here? What was the purpose?
But Sam had no purpose. Not small or large nor anything in between. I am nothing alone. I am a tool for the greater good. That’s what they’d told him at least.
The thought had always brought both comfort and despair. But now there was only despair because his one purpose had been taken from him.
They named us after monsters.
Half an hour later or so, he was back in the red pickup truck. He sat there, still feeling off-kilter about his visit to the apartment. Morana had confused him. But he was more concerned about what he’d seen on the paper that Amon had burned. The instructions for his job, Sam knew, because he’d received similar instructions before.
Deercroft.
1358.
Military time: one fifty-eight. What time was it now? Sam wasn’t sure. He didn’t have a phone. That had been taken from him. But he knew it was somewhere around one o’clock.
Deercroft.
They named us after monsters.
Sam turned the key in the ignition and then shut the truck off again, letting out a soft growl, directed toward himself. How many more bad ideas are you going to have before you die, Sam?
More importantly, how many more are you going to follow?
There was a café just up the block that had a sign advertising internet, and he jumped from the truck, heading in that direction. He paid the woman at the counter for thirty minutes, her gaze lingering on him as he turned away.
He sat down in the plastic chair, far too small for his large frame, clicked on the browser, and typed in Deercroft, New York.
A list of hits came up, and he clicked on the first one. A private school. Deercroft Academy was a private elementary school in the city.
Sam’s hand fell from the mouse, and he sat there for a moment, picturing the sheen of perspiration on Amon’s forehead, the man who had been trained not to sweat.
We have to do what’s necessary. The mission is what matters. The mission is all that matters.
Sam couldn’t stop a mission. Missions were happening all over the world. The other program members were carrying out missions everywhere, some perhaps right that second. He didn’t know where. He didn’t know why.
You know this time though, his mind whispered. Deercroft. One fifty-eight.
Each mission is for the greater good.
The greater good.
What did that mean though? No one had ever defined it for him.
Sam glanced at the time on the computer. One twenty-seven.
He hesitated only a moment before scooting back, the chair falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Sam didn’t bother to pick it up. He turned and headed for the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Autumn slowed to a walk, breath coming quickly as she melded with the other New Yorkers moving through the crowded streets. She’d rolled up the stolen files and stuffed them in her mostly empty purse and secured it around her body. Now she gave one final glance over her shoulder, secure in the belief that no one was on her tail. If Chantelle had called the authorities present in the building and they’d attempted to follow and detain her for stealing official, sealed documents, she’d successfully evaded them.
For now.
Would they pay a visit to her home? Maybe. She’d deal with that when the time came. She’d even give the files back. After she’d scoured every piece of information.
She turned the corner toward the sign for the subway that would deliver her to the bus she’d taken into the city. She’d read her file as soon as she was safely seated in the back and headed home. Would it contain anything she didn’t already know? Something worth noting that no doctor had ever mentioned to her?
And what if there isn’t?
She’d been so fearful as she’d stolen her file, but now she was even more afraid the theft had been pointless.
She patted her bag as she hurried toward the subway stairs at the end of the block. If there’s nothing here, will you give up your search for answers? For the meaning behind your suffering?
Could she?
Is it time?
She picked up her pace, practically running again.
No.
No, I could not. It’s not in my makeup.
She thrust her shoulders back, determination filling her. No, she would not give up no matter what, because not doing so was important. She felt that. She knew it with every fiber of her being.
A sudden wind whipped up, causing her to turn her head. Across the street and up a ways, a man’s ball cap flew off, and Autumn’s heart nearly stopped. She gasped and turned, her neck craning as she watched him rush ahead and then scoop it off the ground where it’d landed before replacing it on his head.