Page 39 of The Phoenix (Spy Girl 6)
And I know that Amanda Spear, the woman who treated me with compassion and gave me the motherly love I so desperately needed, is dead.
Grandma Spear lets out a simple but painful, “Oh.”
Daniel, who is sitting next to his mother’s bed, drops his head to her chest and sobs. I turn toward Grandma, who embraces me, her body feeling frailer than I remember.
President Ryan Spear finally loses it. He lets out a guttural wail of pain, causing his father to pull him close in an attempt to comfort. Grandma lets go of me to help ease her son’s pain.
After a long while, Daniel looks up at me, his beautiful blue eyes swollen and red. He wipes the tears from them, then gets up and practically launches himself at me. We embrace for a really long time, just holding each other while we weep over the loss of his mother’s beautiful soul.
“I don’t know what I would have done without you here,” he says, kissing the side of my face. “My mother loved you.”
The little strength I had left melts away as I shudder and sob out, “I loved her back.”
I hear the sound of a voice clearing behind me and turn to see Lorenzo.
“I’m so sorry,” he says to Daniel as the pair embrace. Having just lost his father, I know this is hard on Lorenzo as well, not to mention the sadness sweeping his nation. “I came to check on Lizzie.”
“I can’t bear to lose her, too,” Daniel says. He reaches down and takes my hand, holding it tightly as we walk to the room next door.
Once he sees Lizzie’s face, he lets go of my hand and rushes to her side, and she cries with him over his loss.
It’s then that I notice there are more people in the room with her.
My brother and Allie.
“Are you sick, too?” I ask. This can’t be happening.
“Sore throats and low-grade fever,” Ari says, nodding. “Everything hurts.”
“I’m sorry.” I move closer to hug him.
“I thought we could fix it,” he whispers. “I just found you. I just got married. I’m not ready to die.”
“There’s nothing any of us can do, Ari,” I reply, tears filling my eyes again.
“Don’t you dare give up,” he whispers. “You need to finish this.”
I verify that none of the patients in this room have developed a rash, kiss them each on the top of the head, and leave the room.
I need to get out of here and think.
And maybe sleep.
This might officially be the longest day of my life.
Lorenzo is waiting for me outside. “How are you feeling?”
“Fine so far.”
“Me, too,” he says. “We’re all going to die, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, unless there’s some kind of miracle.”
He squints his eyes, studying me. “You don’t think it can be stopped?”
I let out a pathetic sigh. “No, I don’t.”
“You’ve given up?” he asks incredulously.
“I thought I knew who’d caused this and how, but even you don’t believe me anymore.”
“That’s because the facts have proven otherwise,” he says, stating his case. “No poisoned grain was involved. This is something unrelated.”
I should roll my eyes at that comment and tell him he’s not thinking straight. That common sense tells me it’s way too much of a coincidence, but all I can think are that, both here in Montrovia and all around the world, heartbreaking scenes like the one I just witnessed are taking place. That people are losing loved ones because of this disease. I know this isn’t simply death; it’s murder.
Murder by a group of men who want to control the world.
MISSION:DAY TEN
I wake up, my eyes feeling swollen and like they are full of sand after having cried so much last night. I close them again, not wanting to face the reality of the day, but when I do, I see my mother’s eyes before the bullet enters her head.
But, this time, her eyes are frozen in time, and all I see is love. The kind of love I saw in Amanda’s eyes last night when she looked at Daniel. I suddenly realize it wasn’t disappointment in me that I saw but rather disappointment in herself. She felt like she’d failed me, not the other way around.
I should go to the hospital to sit with Ari, Allie, Daniel, Lizzie, and whoever else I love that is there, but I’m not sure I can stand to witness any one of them dying. What I really want to do is bury my head in the sand and pretend this isn’t really happening.
I close my eyes and then open them with a start as I remember the paper that the First Lady put into my hand last night. With all that was going on, I simply shoved it in my pocket and forgot about it.
I jump out of bed, run to my closet, pull the slacks I was wearing out of the laundry basket, and find the note.
It’s all balled up, so I carefully and almost reverently take it to my desk and attempt to smooth it out. The side I’m working on is blank, and as I prepare to flip it over, I think about how these are probably the last words Amanda wrote.
Please save my son.
I bury my hands in my face and cry again.
After allowing myself a few moments to grieve, I wipe my tears, get dressed for the day, and make my way down to the vault.
Maybe I can’t give up just yet.
“Good morning,” Intrepid says in greeting.
“The English are always pleasant before they give you the bad news,” Ares comments.
“There’s more bad news?” I ask.
“Besides the fact that the First Lady is dead?”
“Yes,” Intrepid says.
“Why have we still not gotten answers from The Society?”
“I don’t know,” Ares says. “I’m starting to think that, since the coup was stopped, they halted their plan. It’s what they did after Alessandro was killed six years ago.”
“Add to that, all tests confirm this wasn’t from a food source,” Intrepid says. “It’s not being said publicly yet, but after going over the video of the opening ceremonies, it’s believed that an airborne virus was planted in the fireworks. A bioterrorist attack. The smoke blew in the direction of the wind, and those first dead were all sitting on that side of the stadium.”
“Has anyone claimed responsibility?” I ask.
“No,” Intrepid says.
“Why would a terrorist group want to kill everyone in the world?” I say in a frustrated tone.
“Don’t get snippy,” Ares says. “We’re just telling you what we know.”
“And I’m telling you that this is part of The Echelon’s plan,” I reply forcefully. “It has to be.”
“Quite honestly, Huntley, it doesn’t matter whose plan it is at this point,” Intrepid says softly. “If we don’t discover a cure, we’ll all die.”
“Which brings me back to why haven’t we heard from The Society. They should be messaging their members constant updates with all that is going on. Their silence means something.”
Just as the words leave my lips, a phone on the table next to Ares vibrates.
“This is Ari’s Society phone. They just sent a message,” he says.
“What does it say?” both Intrepid and I ask.
Ares reads it, frowns, and then hands the phone to me, so Intrepid and I can read it for ourselves.
