Children of the Underground Read Online Free Page A

on the table next to the chair. “So they’ve been coming, trying to make a name for themselves by taking me out. It was only a trickle at first, one every few weeks. There are more of them now, and they come in bunches—two at a time, sometimes three. It’s like a rat problem.”
    â€œAnd you kill them all?” I asked.
    â€œWell, first I ask them to leave,” Michael said. I deserved the sarcasm.
    â€œHow can you keep it up?”
    â€œI can’t,” Michael said. “Eventually someone’s going to get the drop on me.” His dark blue eyes flared up for a moment as a streak of sunlight snuck in through the blinds. “It won’t be easy for them, though.” We were quiet for a moment. “You still haven’t answered my question,” Michael said, breaking the silence. “Why are you here?”
    I couldn’t think of a diplomatic way to do this. “I need your help,” I answered.
    â€œMy help with what?”
    â€œI need you to help me get my son back.” I swallowed hard, trying to fight the tears I felt in my eyes. “I need you to help me get Joe’s son back.”
    â€œWhat good’s that going to do?” Michael stood up and walked over to the window. He pulled back the shades with one hand and peeked outside.
    â€œI want to save him. I want to take him away from the War.”
    Michael smiled again. It was a sad smile. He shook his head. “You can’t save him from the War. The War’s in his blood. He was born into it. He’s a child of paranoia, just like I am, just like Joe was. No matter how hard you try, the War will find him.”
    â€œI don’t believe that,” I responded.
    â€œBelieve what you want, little girl,” Michael said. “What you believe doesn’t change the truth.” The words stung.
    â€œYou realize that if we don’t get him, Joe’s son is going to grow up on the other side.”
    â€œI don’t see how that’s any of my business,” Michael said, but I could see something in his eyes. He cared. I saw it, if only for a second.
    â€œHow is that not your business? If we don’t find him, Joe’s son is going to grow up to be your enemy. He’s going to grow up to be one of those kids that you sink in that lake.”
    â€œOh, I don’t think so, Maria,” Michael laughed. “I’ll be long dead by the time your son starts fighting. I’m sure of that.”
    â€œHis name is Christopher,” I said, searching for words that Michael wouldn’t have an answer for. “Joe died trying to keep him out of the War.”
    â€œJoe was a dreamer,” Michael answered.
    â€œFunny, that’s what he said about you.”
    â€œYeah, I was a dreamer too,” Michael replied. “Now Joe’s dead and I’m not a dreamer anymore.”
    â€œWait. I have something for you.” I walked over to the closet and reached up to the top shelf. I pulled down your father’s journal. I hadn’t planned on giving the journal to Michael. The idea just came to me. If I couldn’t convince Michael to help you, maybe your father could. I handed Michael the journal. The pages were worn where I had read them over and over again. “It’s Joe’s journal. I asked Joe to write it.” I crammed the crumpled pages that I’d written about the day they stole you into the back of the journal. Michael deserved to know how his friend had died.
    Michael held the journal in his hands. He looked down at it, unsure if he actually wanted it. He reached up and rubbed the stubble on his cheeks. “Am I in it?” he asked, his voice weak.
    â€œIt’s how I found you,” I told him.
    â€œCan I take this?” Michael asked, lifting the journal in one hand. He was leaving. I couldn’t make him stay. I could only try to make him come back.
    â€œOnly if you promise to return