The Boy who Lit up the Sky (The Two Moons of Rehnor, Book 1)

by J. Naomi Ay

I was the one who found the boy. I walked the streets of Old Mishnah for two weeks asking everyone I passed if they knew of a Karut kid. I ate a lot of donuts, drank a lot of coffee, smoked a lot of cigs and sat on a lot of stoops.

  Old Mishnah stunk in those days. A perpetual brownish-grey haze hung over our heads and trapped in the stench of the inner city. You couldn't find a tree and the only blades of grass that grew were the straggly weeds that poked up through the cracks in the pavement. The gutters were the worst though. All manner of foul matter swam in the gutters, and the stench stayed in your nostrils for days.

  I was in the internal investigations unit of the Palace Guards. The entire three years of my career had consisted of investigating petty thefts among Palace employees. It was boring but good money and included room and board in the Palace which meant a decent flat and plenty of food. I was relatively happy. Then, one day, totally out of the blue, Captain Loman called me into his office and told me I needed to go down to Old Mishnah.

  "Old Mishnah?" I repeated.

  "Yeah," he said and gave me a pass to get issued a laser. "Old Mishnah."

  "And my assignment there?" I asked, wondering if I needed a blade, as well.

  "You're looking for a missing kid."

  "A missing kid?"

  "Yes, a missing kid," Loman reiterated.

  "In Old Mishnah?"

  "Is that not what I just said?" Loman snapped. "Are you not understanding me, Lt. Taner?"

  "Sorry, sir. I understand. Who is the kid?" I wondered if I was being punished for something. My last review went well. My immediate supervisor seemed to like me. I shifted in my seat and wished I could have a smoke but figured it would be a bad idea to light up in the boss's office.

  This was only the second time I'd been in this office. The first time was even less pleasant as I was getting reprimanded for daring to accuse Lord Phylyp of swiping a missing gold figurine that had been on display in the Palace's public museum. I didn't realize at the time that Lord Phylyp, being Prince Akan's significant other, was allowed to swipe whatever he wanted. That bit of indiscretion on my part resulted in getting docked a month's worth of pay packets and 200 hours of forced overtime.

  Captain Loman rooted around in his desk for a candy bar and finding one, ripped it open and stuffed it into his mouth. His big jaws moved up and down as he chewed it and gazed out the window. I looked around the office and waited. Loman's office was enormous. He had a massive shiny wood desk, leather chairs and a huge vid suspended from the ceiling. The Captain was a big guy and he needed big things around him. His window opened out to the sea which today was calm and almost as clear blue as the sky.

  "That's not important," he mumbled, finally answering my question. "Who the kid is."

  "Pardon?"

  "I'll tell you later," he said again, this time louder and without chocolate. "Just go find him."

  "You got it, Captain," I replied with a mock salute. "So, it's not relevant that the Royal Guard is looking for a kid, something the city cops ought to be able to do, is it?"

  "Nope," Loman sighed and opened a third candy bar. "Not relevant."

  "Can you tell me anything about him?" I got out my tablet and prepared to jot down some notes. "Anything at all or should I just go find a random kid off the street?"

  Loman glared at me. "Your file says you are a good detective, Lt. Taner. It also says you are a smart ass. If I were you, I'd concentrate on the good and smart part and minimize the ass part."

  I smiled apologetically. "Sorry Captain."

  "The kid you need to get was in the Old Mishnah Orphan Home but ran away when he was old enough to figure out that he could. That was about six years ago when he was a little more than six years old." Loman pulled up a map on his vid. I turned in my chair to study it. "The orphan home is here."

  "And you think he is still in Old Mishnah?"

  "One of the Sainted Ladies thought she saw him near the farmer's market here about a year ago." Loman pointed, “That's the most recent sighting."

  "That's about four or five miles from the orphan home?"

  "Six point two."

  "A year ago?"

  "Yep." Loman cleared his throat. "I need him here by the first of the month, but I'd like him here sooner if at all possible."

  "That's eighteen days. Do I get any help?"

  "You don't think you can handle a twelve year old by yourself, Lt Taner?"

  "I have eighteen days," I repeated. "To find a kid that hasn't been sighted in a year in a city of five million including half a million homeless street people."

  "I really want him here earlier if you can." Loman scrunched up his face and tapped his large fingers on his desk. "I'm thinking since the kid has lived on the streets for the last five years or so, he might have some issues. Yes, Taner, I really need him here sooner if at all possible."

  "Issues?"

  "Yeah, street kid issues, gangs, drugs, whoring, who knows? His Mishnese probably won't be very good, he certainly won't know the protocols, and we may need to thoroughly clean and disinfect him. I'll need some time for all that."

  "Right," I nodded. Disinfect him? "What does he look like? Am I allowed to know?"

  "He looks like a Karut," Loman sighed heavily as if this were a great shame which it probably was. He typed again, and an image of a boy appeared on the vid. "Here is a pic of him the summer before he ran off. He had just turned six. This was the last time I saw him." At first glance, the kid definitely looked like a Karut with long, wavy, black hair, but at second glance, I noted how pale his skin was. "He has a red birthmark on the top of his head running from his forehead going back. It looks like this."

  The screen shifted to an image of a newborn infant's head with a blood red stain running across it beneath fine black hair.

  "It kind of looks like a bird flying," I remarked.

  "Yeah, sort of. Oh, and Taner, his eyes. You should be able to identify him just by his eyes. They're different."

  "What does that mean?"

  "They're silver. Not just silver colored but they give off a silver light."

  "Beg pardon?" I stopped taking notes. "Did you just say the kid has silver eyes that give off light? Are you making this up, Captain? Is this some kind of test or is this a joke?"

  Loman looked at me steadily. "No, Lt Taner," he enunciated. "This is neither a test nor a joke."

  "Is he some kind of alien then?" I studied the kid. Kind of cute, not very happy, and vaguely familiar although I didn’t know why he would be.

  "No. He's not an alien. He just has very strange eyes, like a mutation or something."

  "Ok," I replied. "In summary, I need to find a Karut kid with mutated eyes and a bird on his head. Is there anything else I should know?"

  "He goes by the name Senya. That's all I can tell you right now."

  "Do you know more that you are not telling me or is this all that you know?"

  Loman looked out the window. He drummed his fingers on the desk some more. "I have told you enough to complete your assignment. Go get your gun and get started."

  "The first, right?" I stood up and headed toward the door.

  "Right," Loman called after me. "Taner, this could be good for you, you know. There was a reason I chose you for this assignment."

  "What's that boss?" I turned around to face him. "You think I'd make a good baby sitter?"

  "No," Loman rolled his eyes. "I think you would make a terrible babysitter. Get going."

  So there I was on the street packing a piece and blade. It was my fourteenth day out there, and I had exactly four more days until the first of the month.

  Over the last two weeks, I had covered about twenty square miles of the old city on foot and I was getting desperate. I had searched every filthy corner of every stinking alley of every trash filled block in Old Mishnah. I had met a few who said there was a Karut kid who lived around here, but no one was sure where, or a
t least they were not about to tell me. I guess even in my civs, and dragging on a cig, I looked too much like a copper and they weren’t anxious to share. It might have been my haircut.

  Dusk was falling. The drug pushers were already out in force. Someone a street over was screaming like they were being knifed. I debated whether to call it a night and head back to the Palace but then realized I was out of cigs so on a whim I stepped into a shop. A bell hanging from a rope around the cracked glass door announced my presence.

  "Hey, Pops," I called to the skinny old guy behind the counter. He was sitting on a stool and smoking his own cig.

  "Hey, Coppah," he replied and looked at me with rheumy eyes. "I ain't done nuttin." I thought this is what he said. Between his toothless gums and street Mishnese accent, I could barely understand him.

  "I know, Pops," I sighed. "You're innocent. Where's the cigs?"

  "Second shelf over," the old guy pointed. "Whatcha doing in this neighborhood, son?"

  "How’d you know I was a cop?" I asked. "My haircut?"

  "Nah. You smell like one," the old guy laughed and showed his empty tooth sockets.

  "Clean, maybe? Like maybe I showered in the last ten years." I tossed the pack of cigs on his table. He rang it up, and I threw him the coins. "So," I said. "You ever see a Karut kid around here?"

  The old guy snorted. "You taking him in?"

  "Sure. You want me to?"

  "Sticky fingers that little rat has."

  I broke open the pack and took out a cig. I lit up and took a long drag. "So you do know him then?"

  "Yep," the old grocer nodded.

  "How old you think he is?"

  "Dun't know. Young but not too young. Used to be younger. Was just a little guy when he first started showing up here."

  "Sure," I said encouragingly. "Would you guess about twelve?"

  "Yeah. Bout right."

  "What does he look like?" I casually walked over to the window. It was dark outside. I fingered my piece with my free hand and sucked on my cig.

  "Karut. Ugly."

  "Black hair? Strange eyes? "

  "Yep. Just like that cept he's white, a white Karut," the old guy laughed. "Looks like a Karut fucked a Lightie. Imagine that!"

  "Kid got a name, Pops?"

  "Ach, Copper, a course 'e do. Ye ought to know it too."

  "Senya?"

  "That be one of them, yeah."

  I walked back over to the counter and threw a tenner at the old guy.

  "Know where I can find Senya?"

  "Nope." Pops pocketed the tenner. "But Meri might. She's been known to feed him. Fourth door down, third floor, t’other side of the street."

  "Thanks, Pops." I ventured out into the street to find Senya, the sticky fingered Karut. The bell tinkled as the door shut behind me.

  Four doors down, I hauled myself up to the third floor as rats scurried in the stairwell and something sticky grabbed at me from every step. The whole building smelled like a toxic combination of urine, mold, and something else which I didn’t want to think about. There was no light in the hallway, so I used my torch, avoiding the corners and floorboards which were cluttered with filth and most likely vermin.

  "What do you want?" A hesitant voice called from behind the only door on the floor. The wood was splintered with age and nearly all paint had flaked away.

  "Meri?" I tried my best not to sound like a cop, but, as usual, failed at it.

  "Go away, Copper," she replied without opening the door. Her Mishnese was surprisingly good.

  "Meri," I tried again. "I'm looking for Senya. Do you know where he is?"

  The door cracked open enough for one very over painted eye to peek out.

  "You taking him in?" She said.

  "I don't know," I replied. “Should I?” Now there were two over painted eyes on a face that looked like it was burnt and had serious scars. If it weren't for the scars, I would guess her to be no older than me. "You’ve seen him lately?"

  She pondered for a moment and then glanced around the room behind her as if she remembered that he was hiding in a corner.

  "No," she said and moved to slam the door.

  I shoved my knee in between the door and the frame which caused the wood to splinter.

  "When does he usually come by?"

  She stared at me. I waved a tenner. She looked at it and bit her lip. Then she peered closely at me. "You're from the Palace," she stated. "You're not a street cop."

  "That's right." I must have had a really good haircut.

  “You’re taking him there.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  "You'll take care of him? You won't let them hurt him?"

  "Yes Ma'am," I said again.

  "You'll protect him from, from…"

  "From what, Ma'am?"

  She looked away. "From them who hid him away in the first place!" She snapped and glared at me as if I was stupid, which come to think of it, maybe I was.

  "Sure," I agreed. "I'll take care of him. I'll take really good care of him."

  She stared at me again, probably judging my sincerity. I must have passed. She swallowed hard before speaking. "Mornings," she said. "He has a sweet tooth, so I bake on Friday. He usually comes then for a treat." She smiled her damaged face wistfully. She might have been pretty once.

  I removed my hand and my knee from the door. I tried to give her the tenner and a coin, but she refused.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” I said and nodded to her.

  She nodded back, and there were tears in her eyes. Tomorrow was Friday.

  At six AM on Friday, I was out on the stoop in front of Meri's building, taking a drag on my third cig of the day and watching the grey dawn begin to lighten. The moons had set and so had most of the drug pushers and gangs, so that I was sitting undisturbed.

  I was trying to think of what I could say to this kid. Though it was only a dozen years since I was that age, I lived in suburbia in a house with a mother and father, a sister and dog. I went to school like a normal kid, ate three square meals and flew a skateboard when I was bored, nothing that a boy raising himself on the streets since the age of six could possibly relate to.

  The sun rose higher in the sky and the streets around me started to wake up with speeders and people. It was so different here than New Mishnah where the people were dressed well and hurried from one meeting to the next, queuing in the coffee shop or grabbing a bite at a street bistro. The speeders were newer, and taxis were everywhere. You could see the sky there, and it was usually blue. It didn’t smell bad either. Here, the few speeders and city busses were broken and vandalized, and the pedestrians were wearing ragged clothing, hung-over, and in no hurry to go to the jobs they didn’t have. The nearest coffee shop was four blocks over, and there were bars along the windows and doors.

  I had sat on the stoop for no less than four hours when I got up to stretch. The sun had risen in the sky, and the noise and stink of Old Mishnah was fully awake, as well. There was a half way decent baking smell coming from Meri's flat above me and it disguised the rancid scent of the street a little.

  I had walked down the steps and out on to the sidewalk rubbing the knot in the back of my neck when I saw him. There, hidden in the shadows of the very stoop I had been sitting on, he was crouched. A mangy black mutt with enormous snarling teeth was beside him. I froze in place. The dog growled louder.

  "Hey Senya," I called and held out my hands innocently.

  The dog rose to his feet slowly, baring his teeth, slobber dripping down to the pavement. I must have looked really juicy. It had to have been my haircut.

  Slowly, I reached into my pocket and grabbed a donut from the bag I had taken this morning. I had been seeing a girl who worked in the Palace bakery and she’d been remarkably good about leaving day old maple twists and a thermos of coffee on my kitchen counter every morning. In a small way, it made up for leaving her
warm body asleep in my bed. Only in a very small way though.

  I tossed a maple twist on the ground by the dog's feet.

  "It's good, Senya," I said. "Meri says you like sweets. I've got some for you too." The dog was still snarling but fortunately was distracted by the confection in front of him. "I'm not going to hurt you, Senya." I continued in the best calming voice I could manage. "I want to talk to you." I couldn’t see the boy's expression in the shadows, only the outline of his face and thin slits of silver light that shone from his eyes. Even the little bit that I could see was weird, and I wondered if Loman had lied to me after all and the kid actually was an alien who coincidentally looked like a Karut.

  "Look," I said, slowly taking the whole bag of donuts out of my pocket. "These are for you." After tossing them forward, I stepped back only to land my foot into something the dog had left there earlier. "Shit!" Now, that was exactly what I had all over my shoe. Turning away for a moment, I tried to scrap the mess off and onto the curb. When I looked back, the boy was standing right next to me holding the bag of donuts. I nearly jumped into the street again. “Shit, you’re quiet!” Silver light flickered from beneath his long black eye lashes. I couldn’t decide if that made him look sleepy or just downright creepy.

  The boy reached into the bag and tossed another donut to the dog who instantly devoured it.

  "My name is Taner," I said and offered my hand. "I need to talk to you."

  The boy studied me, cocking his head slightly to the side but ignoring my hand. A bus roared past us just then and for a moment I felt a wave of heat and a thickness in my skull. At the time, I thought it was the exhaust from the bus.

  Then, the boy stepped around me and proceeded up the steps of Meri’s building. He sat down on the top stoop where I had been all morning, and ate the rest of the donuts as if he was starving. Judging by the sharp bones protruding from his frame, he probably was.

  The dog followed, laying down at the boy's feet and snarling albeit half-heartedly as I came up the steps. I sat on the opposite side and took out a cig. Lighting up, I took a long drag and relished the masquerading effect of the tobacco smell. When I glanced again at the boy, he was holding out his hand.

  "You want a cig? Here." I tossed him one and reached for my lighter but by the time I did so, the cig was already lit, and he was inhaling like a pro.

  "So, Senya, like I said, my name is Taner," I took another long drag. Strangely, I felt nervous. "I am from the Internal Investigations unit of the Royal Guards."

  The dog growled and bared his ugly teeth at me. I guess he was a remarkably perceptive dog.

  "So, kid, you need to come with me. I’m supposed to take you back to the Palace."

  The boy bolted down the steps with the dog at his heels and headed into the street, nearly getting himself leveled by a low flying speeder.

  I was on my feet, and racing after him. He was fast and knew these streets better than I did. In no time, I was winded, and he was gone, dodging between parked and flying speeders and eventually disappearing into the shadows between buildings.

  "At least he's alive," Loman said in his office later that afternoon. "I was afraid we might be too late. The Sainted Lady with the scarred face is taking care of him." Loman beat on his desk with a pen. He nodded to the tune he was drumming out while he thought.

  "She didn't look like a Sainted Lady," I replied.

  "She was. The House Father was murdered with a fire poker, then his body was set on fire and in the meantime, she and the boy disappeared."

  "Did she do it?" I would have liked a good murder investigation, especially with the suspect right there. It'd be more interesting than chasing this boy around Old Mishnah.

  "The House Sisters said she couldn't possibly have done it. She was afraid of her own shadow. But, she loved the boy like a mother, so if the Father was abusing him, perhaps. Taner," Loman said steadily. "That is not your case. Your case is to bring in the boy."

  "So the House Father was abusing this kid and the kind, ugly Sainted Lady took a poker to him and then she and the kid ran off together so that she could work the streets and he could what?"

  Loman sighed heavily as if I was annoying him.

  "Why do you want the boy?" I asked again.

  "You're the detective," Loman grumbled, peeling a candy bar. "You figure it out. Just get the kid here on time."

  Saturday, I spent the entire day on the bloody stoop. No boy, no dog, but plenty of drug pushers and whores.

  Sunday, I overslept and didn't bother reporting for duty until well in the afternoon. I waited on the stoop awhile, but there was no sign of the boy, so I decided to walk around.

  Using the stoop as the midpoint, I began a radial search of the neighborhood. Sundays were a bad day in Old Mishnah. Less people survived Saturday night than any other night of the week, and unfortunately, I had to step over quite a few who didn't make it and had yet to be visited by the city coroner's impound truck.

  Those that lay in pools of blood were either stabbed or shot. Those that were dry were probably overdoses or alcoholic binges. I glanced at them all just to make certain they weren't a twelve year old Karut boy.

  It started to rain. Actually it started to pour, and within a matter of minutes I was completely soaked. I had less than 24 hours to find this boy and bring him in, and I was exhausted, my speeder was parked several miles away, and I was chilled to the bone in wet clothes.

  I sat down on a bench in a bus shelter intending to rest for a minute while the downpour continued, but I must have fallen asleep. I don't know how long I was out but when I awoke it was pitch black, and a fat, stinking, teenage street kid was sitting on my chest while two others were going through my pockets.

  I tried to yell, but the kid clamped his hand down on my throat and nearly choked me. Flipping over as best as I could, I managed to shove the fat kid off of me and reach for my gun, which at the moment was digging a hole in my butt. I scrambled like a crab backward until I hit the wall of the shelter and then drew my gun on the kids. Much to my surprise, all three of those dudes pulled guns on me.

  "Hey, you don't have to shoot me," I said, waving my gun in the air. "I'll give you my wallet." Reaching back into my pocket again, I pulled it out. "Here, here." I tossed it on the pavement at the fat kid's feet. "It's all yours."

  The fat kid said something about how he was going to slit my throat and put a bullet in my head just for the fun of it while the others were flipping through my wallet pulling out the rest of my tenners. I was thinking that I was done for and what a lousy way to end my less than illustrious career and life, out on some wild goose chase for Loman for no apparent reason.

  "Fuck, it's the dog!" One of the kids yelled and two of them tore out of the bus shelter leaving a bunch of my tenners and my wallet behind.

  In the meantime, that huge mangy black mutt bolted in and grabbing the fat kid by the arm, he snarled as if he was ready and willing to rip it right off. The fat kid started screaming his lungs out, dropping his gun and doing everything he could to pull the dog off of him. I hustled to my feet and aimed my gun just in time to see Senya wrap his arm around the fat kid's neck. The dog backed off, growled at me and then lifted his leg on my wallet and money.

  Senya was nearly as tall as the older kid but less than half his weight, yet the fat kid went limp in his arms. Something glinted in the dim light of the shelter, and I realized Senya had a blade. "Where's me coins, Smirt?" Senya hissed.

  "I ain't got it Karut," the fat kid replied. "I tol you las week, I ain't got it. I'll get it next week. I promise."

  "You said tha las week," Senya said, and Smirt began to tremble as a bead of blood trickled down from his neck. "What'd I tell you las week, Smirt?"

  "I dun know."

  "Yes, you do. Remember Smirt? I said, you will die this week."

  "I know Senya but..." Smirt knees were shaking and began to buckle.
r />   "Senya!" I yelled, surprised as my own voice echoed across the bus shelter. "Don't kill him."

  The silver light turned on my face and in the reflection I could see that already Smirt had a long bleeding gash between his ear and throat.

  "Don't kill him," I ordered and waved my gun. "Let the kid go."

  Senya narrowed his eyes at me but thankfully, backed away from Smirt.

  "Thanks, Coppah," Smirt cried and bolted away with my wallet.

  Now it was just the two of us and the dog who was watching me warily while chewing on something in the corner of the shelter. The rain was beating on the roof, and my heart was pounding in my chest as I stared at Senya and realized who he was. Like a lightning bolt, it hit me.

  "Holy Blessed Saint!" I whistled through my teeth. "You're supposed to be dead!" Senya turned and started to leave, but I raced after and caught his arm. "No," I yelled. "No, you can't go. You have to come with me."

  "Fuck ye, Coppah," he hissed, and before I could react, he knocked me on my knees, his arm went around my neck, and the blade was at my throat. "Ye git the fuck away from 'ere," he whispered in my ear. "Or I be slicing yer neck, eh?"

  "I can't, Senya," I pleaded. "I've got take you in. You've got to come with me. You don't realize..."

  "I ain't goin' nowhere," he said and the blade pricked my neck.

  "Please kid. You don't understand. It's not what you think!"

  Suddenly the shelter lit up as speeders surrounded us. Senya released his hold on my neck, and I scrambled to my feet, reaching for him again as he disappeared into the darkness, the dog chasing after him.

  "Taner?" Loman called over to me.

  "He went that way," I screamed, trying to keep an eye on the boy through the darkness and pouring rain. "Give me your torch," I yelled, since mine was long gone.

  Loman tossed it to me, and I ran as far as my legs would carry me and then I walked, waving my torch back and forth, illuminating every dark corner of every dank alley.

  It was four in the morning according to my watch, and the sun was rising. It stopped raining hours ago, but I was soaked to the bone. A speeder pulled up in front of me, and the door opened.

  "Tell me someone else found him," I said as I collapsed next to Loman.

  Loman shook his head. "We found another street kid, a big guy, with your wallet."

  "Yeah? Did he know where Senya went?"

  "He wasn't talking. He was dead. Hit by a bus a few hours ago."

  "Ah, shit." I closed my exhausted eyes.

  "We've got to get this boy, Taner," Loman said. "The King...it's the kid's birthday today. The king wants him here for his birthday."

  I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. "You guys left him on the street for twelve years, and now you're going to throw him a birthday party?"

  "It wasn't supposed to be like that, Taner," Loman snapped, rubbing his temples. "The House Father, the Sister, they all complicated things and then they disappeared on us. My ass, hell, my head is on the line, Taner. The King doesn't know about him being on the streets. He thinks..."

  "He thinks what?"

  "He thinks the kid was being raised by a nice Mishnese family in the suburbs somewhere. He thinks the kid has Lydia's grey eyes and sweet disposition and will be perfectly pleased to come home today. He doesn't know about any of this." Loman waved his hand. "I was hoping you'd get the kid in a week ago so I could work with him, at least talk to him, explain to him what happened and maybe teach him some manners or something."

  I glanced over at Loman. He looked ill, kind of like a heart attack waiting to happen. "The King's not really going to fire you over this?"

  "He was my responsibility. I was supposed to keep tabs on him. I was supposed to keep him safe. I'm dead, Taner."

  "I don't know," I mumbled. "I've got a sick feeling about this kid. Maybe we shouldn't get him. Maybe we should let him go and tell the king he died or something."

  Loman didn’t respond, just stared at the ceiling of the speeder.

  "I mean," I continued. "This kid nearly killed me tonight. He had a knife at my throat. The dead kid with my wallet, Senya told him he was going to die. Maybe the bus hit him after Senya pushed him under it. We can't let someone like that...You know what I mean, Boss? He could be a danger to everyone. He's probably on the street drugs and who knows what diseases and stuff he's picked up from whatever he does out here. He's not a normal twelve year old from the suburbs. Maybe we should just walk away now while we can."

  "It's not our decision, Taner," Loman replied.

  "But the king doesn't know what this kid is like," I argued. "What kind of twelve year old is capable of murdering two people in one night?"

  "The kind of twelve year old who killed a House Father with a poker and then set the body on fire when he was six," Loman snapped. "This kid is no saint, Taner, and you're right, he's probably very dangerous, but we have no choice. I have a kid his age too and if I don't bring this one in, my kid isn't going to have a father any longer."

  I stared out the dark window for a while. If this kid was bad, our whole future could be ruined. Everybody, the whole planet, could be destroyed.

  "What if he is really evil, Loman?" I asked quietly. "What if he really is the Infidel reborn? What if instead of stopping the wars, he's going to start bigger ones?"

  "He's not. I know he's not."

  "How do you know?"

  "I just know. I just know," Loman whispered.

  "And if you're wrong?"

  "Let's just find him, bring him in, do what we can with him and if he's bad, if I'm wrong, I'll kill him myself."

  "Okay," I agreed. "Alright."

  "So let's find him," Loman nodded as we stared outside at the sunrise.

  "Right," I said and we continued to sit.

  "There's no way in hell we're going to find him," Loman sighed.

  "Unless he wants to be found," I added.

  "Should have put a fucking tracking chip in him," Loman mumbled as his cell rang. It was his wife.

  "Uh huh. Uh huh.” Loman started the speeder, and we tore off into the morning sky.

  "Where are we going?" I asked.

  "To my house," Loman smiled. "He decided he wanted to be found."

  Chapter 3

  Rucia