But what could we do? Let the whole world crumble into madness and violence? How could we let that happen when there was a chance, a solution, right there in front of us? And how could we, the dreamers, begrudge any of God’s children the opportunity to rebuild and move on? You see, eventually everything would right itself. The world would settle, and the networks and systems would return, and then there would be no need to sacrifice anything. Then we could all live together again. It was almost too beautiful to be true, that we could play such a huge role in it all.

It took years before I could sleep without nightmares, years before I could truly look at my own reflection in the mirror, but I got there. Eventually. And just in time, too. What a gift it is to be here, to be a part of the solution, when we have only just made the kind of breakthroughs that change the game for everyone. I’m excited again, for all of us.

Things are going to change, and we are going to be here to see that change through. Oh, French, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but the days of hunting and sacrifice are nearly over. Wait and see. Believe and witness.

We once were lost, but now we’re found.

CHAPTER 11

A SLIM LIGHT IN A DARK WORLD

French

IN THE MORNING, I FOUND HIM SLEEPING IN THE chair, his elbow on the arm, his head held up with a palm.

“Were you really quoting ‘Amazing Grace’?”

He roused, stretching and blinking rapidly. The imprint of his hand was red on his cheek. “What?”

Seeing the doctors in the room, he pulled himself upright quick, smoothing out the front of his shirt, tugging the seam on his pant legs straight. Then he ran both hands through his short hair and used his fists to rub his eyes.

“You know it was written by a slave trader, ‘Amazing Grace.’ Someone who literally delivered thousands of people into torture and death.”

He paused, remembering his story from the night before. “Well, a slave trader who later reformed and fought for the well-being of all the people.” He opened his hands wide, smiling, more than a little smug. “You know that song predicted our time, where we are now?”

“You don’t say.” I was tired, down-to-my-soul tired. Tired of all this horseshit. I slumped farther into the bed till my feet hit the footboard. The sheet was scratchy on my chin.

Mitch stood in front of the chair, cleared his throat, placed a hand over his tie and heart, closed his eyes, and began to sing:

“The earth shall soon dissolve like snow,

the sun forbear to shine;

but God, who called me here below,

will be forever mine.”

“Nice pipes,” I teased.

“Thanks,” he answered in earnest. He must have forgotten I was his brother and real compliments would be harder than that to come by. “I’m part of the staff choir.”