I’m not sure how I’d react if he did.
I burn the thought from memory. Because at the end of the day, Conin and Ezra are going to leave and live their lives out far away from here. This is only a temporary fleeting moment in time. I can’t entertain the idea there’s more to this tether than just being near another powered individual. That means something more than what I’m willing to handle right now. It’s only been a month since abu's passing. I shouldn’t move on from my grief that fast.
The front door light is on as we approach home. I double-check to make sure the friends are still following close behindbefore taking my key to unlock the door. I enter first and hold it open like the gracious host I am. Ma and pa are, as usual, lounging on the couch in the living room when we enter. They peer up—ma from her phone, pa from some ex-Mormon book he’s been reading, and their eyes widen in surprise.
Shit. I forgot to update them that two teenagers are on the run from an infamous trafficking network and need asylum downstairs in our basement. And now, the more I think about it, having the Barclay Network after their asses is absolutely pissing-pants scary. God, they better not track them here. Ezra and Conin would tell me if the mercenaries were still on their trail. I hope.
Maybe I should ask.
“Mamá . . . Papá, this is Ezra and his friend Conin. They’re seeking asylum after a run-in with someone dangerous. Tommy contacted me about them. Remember him?”
I’m handling this so well.
“Of course, mi corazón. We just . . . weren’t expecting this so soon,” says ma.
What she means is I forgot to tell them, and I’ll be hearing about it later in her overbearing, loving Latina fashion. Pa remains stern next to her, his mouth stretched thin as he takes in the newcomers. They should understand. Not everything is going to be planned. Abu certainly reminded my parents of this.
Ma stands, a whole foot shorter than me and the others. I got pa’s tall, Scottish genes, which is evident by the way ma looks up at me with concerned eyes. They see all. They tell all.
“Were they followed?” she speaks in rough, rapid Spanish. Pa listens in, his two years of missionary experience and two decades of marriage kicking in.
“No,” I say. “They lost the network’s trail a while ago.”
She goes slack-jawed.
“The Barclay Network?” she questions incredulously, emphasizingBarclayin heavily-accented English.
I nod but break the conversation so Conin and Ezra don’t think we’re plotting against them. Conin wouldn’t kill all of us, would he? Pa stands, ambling over to shake hands with them both, forever stuck in his missionary ways. Conin smiles, his studded earrings distracting me as the overhead light reflects off them while Ezra attempts an awkward grin. For a brief second, the tether pulls with every bit of energy it has. Ezra winces. He looks at me but quickly glances away when he notices I’m watching him.
Way to be discreet, Atlas.
“Let me show you around,” ma says. “Then Atlas can take you to the bunker.”
She casts a backward glance at pa before beaming a brilliant smile and leading the two boys out of the living room. I make to follow her, but a large, firm hand grips my forearm before I get a chance to leave.
“How was work?” he questions.
It was abu's idea to have me work for our family’s motel down the street in case any wandering recid—– powered individuals passed through. He claimed I was more attuned to sensing their presence than most people like us, so I acquiesced. Ma and pa were skeptical at first, but they knew one day I’d take over once abu passed. It was always in my cards and my parents were aware of the dangers of having both a father and a child with special abilities. The argument hadn’t lasted long.
“Work was fine,” I say.
“Do you think these kids will be trouble?”
I don’t blame my parents for being extra cautious since abu's passing, but I’m almost an adult. This was always a risk. I was told all my life that I’d be continuing his work, so they can’tsuddenly change their minds now. It is arguable that this is their home, after all, and that I am their son. I sigh.
“I don’t think so. Tommy said he knew them from school. But if I start to think there is a potential risk, I’ll notify Ambrosia.”
Besides, this is what the bunker was designed for.
Pa releases his grip and ushers me along. “Just be careful,” he says. I go in search of ma and our guests. In the morning, I’ll make sure to contact Ambrosia. I haven’t spoken with the Angelics in over a month because they remind me of him and my failures.
They probably think he’s still alive.
I’ll tell Ambrosia the truth of his passing and notify her of Conin and Ezra’s arrival. What I won’t say is that I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I wasn’t prepared for a life without abu—without my rock, the man who taught me everything I needed to know about my powers. I only watched and helped where I could, letting the desire for a life I couldn’t have overcome me.
I’m such an idiot. It’s time I finally get over whatever fears are holding me back and contact the Angelics. There’s no choice now when I’m aiding a runaway-powered individual in the flesh.
Ma and the others are in my room. Conin is acting as polite as can be, but Ezra could care less about any of it. Ma smiles and whispers she’ll make us some food before disappearing around the bend.
