Page 102
Story: No Vow Broken
“I don’t know what to say.” I did another twirl. “Except this may be the best day of my life.”
Mom smiled. “It will be. But now, let’s go get Rose and let her take some photos of us here before we head outside.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Everything is absolutely perfect at this moment. I just want to get married before I mess it up.”
“You’re not going to mess it up, sweetie. Besides, Basia and I are here to make sure nothing happens to you or the dress. You’re in good hands.”
“Thank goodness for that,” I said.
FIFTY-THREE
Lexi
Basia, Mom, and I headed toward the back of the church and the overlook to take the first round of photos. Finally, after many peeks outside, Amanda declared that everyone was ready for my appearance and the photos.
When we came around the corner, I saw Slash, along with the rest of the wedding party. Our eyes met, and he gave me a long, slow smile. Naturally, he radiated confidence and stature while I had to watch every step to make sure I didn’t trip on the uneven ground—the story of our relationship.
All three photographers were present with the two official ones deferring to Rose’s positioning for the planned shots. We were taking the group photos first, then the family, and finally shots with just Slash and me.
It was a well-planned and -executed operation. My mom and Amanda were cueing up the next several shots, and the photographer was positioning and shooting in constant motion. Woe to the person who wasn’t ready. We had guests, important guests, who were waiting, so dallying wasn’t an option.
I could see the presidential and papal photographers capturing candid shots by the dozens, surprisingly unobtrusively. They slid seamlessly in and out among the moving people and were clearly experienced at being invisible.
The wordinvisiblesuddenly pulled my thoughts back to white truck. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to solve that riddle for some reason. I barely noticed when Basia and Mom arranged me at a different angle so they could adjust my veil. Suddenly, I found myself facing up the valley to the rise where the white truck had disappeared.
Why wouldn’t my brain shut up about the stupid truck?
“Earth calling Lexi. Can you hear me?” I blinked and realized Basia was talking to me.
I looked around, puzzled, wondering what I’d missed, when everyone suddenly broke out laughing.
“Leave it to you to zone out at your own wedding,” Xavier teased.
“Yeah, you have that same goofy look on your face that you had after the first drone attack,” Elvis added.
I could almost hear something click in my head. My entire body froze. “The drone attack? When did I have that look, Elvis?”
He seemed baffled by my question but answered good-naturedly. “You know, right after Tito frisbeed the final drone. Right before I found the antenna part.”
Everything around me stopped as my brain zeroed in on that moment. I blinked, a sense of urgency coming over me. “Elvis, what color was that truck we hid behind?”
“Huh? The truck? I don’t know. White, I think.”
Just like that, I remembered every little detail of the dented bumper. It had been parked at the side of the road during the drone attack, and we’d hidden behind it. Now I’d seen it at the gas station. I was certain it was the same truck with the werewolf on the driver’s side. But more importantly, the man in the driver’s seat, who’d been looking at his phone instead of at the explosive action right outside his window, and the man at the gas station were definitely one and the same. I’d been thinking it was weird he wasn’t afraid or frightened, but now I knew why. He was part of the attack.
My brain began to fire on all cylinders. There must be another attack planned. But what? Security was tighter than tight. I could hear a helicopter in the distance and knew it was providing air cover. There were police boats in the bay and Secret Service and law enforcement everywhere in a large perimeter around the church and woods.
I looked back up the hill. A gentle breeze wafted down the seemingly peaceful valley. I pictured the inside of the truck I’d caught a glimpse of at the gas station. Oxygen bottles and a dive suit. That didn’t make any sense. Why would he be taking diving equipment away from the water? How could he penetrate the waterside security with just a suit? And the oxygen canisters were too big for diving. What was he doing up on that rise?
It didn’t make sense.
Until it did. I was suddenly gripped with a panic so fierce it took my breath away. We had to stop him or everyone here, every single one of my friends and family, as well as the pope, president, and security people, would die quickly and horribly.
I kicked off my shoes and grabbed them in my hand as I suddenly ran toward Slash, ignoring the gasps and horrified glances of family and friends.
“Slash, we have to go now,” I shouted at him. “Hurry. I’ll explain on the way.”
Without waiting for him, I started running toward the front of the church. Behind me, I could hear people shouting and calling out to me.
Mom smiled. “It will be. But now, let’s go get Rose and let her take some photos of us here before we head outside.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “Everything is absolutely perfect at this moment. I just want to get married before I mess it up.”
“You’re not going to mess it up, sweetie. Besides, Basia and I are here to make sure nothing happens to you or the dress. You’re in good hands.”
“Thank goodness for that,” I said.
FIFTY-THREE
Lexi
Basia, Mom, and I headed toward the back of the church and the overlook to take the first round of photos. Finally, after many peeks outside, Amanda declared that everyone was ready for my appearance and the photos.
When we came around the corner, I saw Slash, along with the rest of the wedding party. Our eyes met, and he gave me a long, slow smile. Naturally, he radiated confidence and stature while I had to watch every step to make sure I didn’t trip on the uneven ground—the story of our relationship.
All three photographers were present with the two official ones deferring to Rose’s positioning for the planned shots. We were taking the group photos first, then the family, and finally shots with just Slash and me.
It was a well-planned and -executed operation. My mom and Amanda were cueing up the next several shots, and the photographer was positioning and shooting in constant motion. Woe to the person who wasn’t ready. We had guests, important guests, who were waiting, so dallying wasn’t an option.
I could see the presidential and papal photographers capturing candid shots by the dozens, surprisingly unobtrusively. They slid seamlessly in and out among the moving people and were clearly experienced at being invisible.
The wordinvisiblesuddenly pulled my thoughts back to white truck. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to solve that riddle for some reason. I barely noticed when Basia and Mom arranged me at a different angle so they could adjust my veil. Suddenly, I found myself facing up the valley to the rise where the white truck had disappeared.
Why wouldn’t my brain shut up about the stupid truck?
“Earth calling Lexi. Can you hear me?” I blinked and realized Basia was talking to me.
I looked around, puzzled, wondering what I’d missed, when everyone suddenly broke out laughing.
“Leave it to you to zone out at your own wedding,” Xavier teased.
“Yeah, you have that same goofy look on your face that you had after the first drone attack,” Elvis added.
I could almost hear something click in my head. My entire body froze. “The drone attack? When did I have that look, Elvis?”
He seemed baffled by my question but answered good-naturedly. “You know, right after Tito frisbeed the final drone. Right before I found the antenna part.”
Everything around me stopped as my brain zeroed in on that moment. I blinked, a sense of urgency coming over me. “Elvis, what color was that truck we hid behind?”
“Huh? The truck? I don’t know. White, I think.”
Just like that, I remembered every little detail of the dented bumper. It had been parked at the side of the road during the drone attack, and we’d hidden behind it. Now I’d seen it at the gas station. I was certain it was the same truck with the werewolf on the driver’s side. But more importantly, the man in the driver’s seat, who’d been looking at his phone instead of at the explosive action right outside his window, and the man at the gas station were definitely one and the same. I’d been thinking it was weird he wasn’t afraid or frightened, but now I knew why. He was part of the attack.
My brain began to fire on all cylinders. There must be another attack planned. But what? Security was tighter than tight. I could hear a helicopter in the distance and knew it was providing air cover. There were police boats in the bay and Secret Service and law enforcement everywhere in a large perimeter around the church and woods.
I looked back up the hill. A gentle breeze wafted down the seemingly peaceful valley. I pictured the inside of the truck I’d caught a glimpse of at the gas station. Oxygen bottles and a dive suit. That didn’t make any sense. Why would he be taking diving equipment away from the water? How could he penetrate the waterside security with just a suit? And the oxygen canisters were too big for diving. What was he doing up on that rise?
It didn’t make sense.
Until it did. I was suddenly gripped with a panic so fierce it took my breath away. We had to stop him or everyone here, every single one of my friends and family, as well as the pope, president, and security people, would die quickly and horribly.
I kicked off my shoes and grabbed them in my hand as I suddenly ran toward Slash, ignoring the gasps and horrified glances of family and friends.
“Slash, we have to go now,” I shouted at him. “Hurry. I’ll explain on the way.”
Without waiting for him, I started running toward the front of the church. Behind me, I could hear people shouting and calling out to me.
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