Children of the Uprising Read Online Free PDF Page B

as the fear.
    â€œFollow me,” the stranger said, “and I’ll tell you as much as I can.”
    â€œWhy should I trust you?” Christopher asked the stranger.
    The stranger shrugged. He leaned in toward Christopher and spoke in a low whisper. “If I want you dead, you’re dead whether you follow me or not. If I’m telling the truth and I actually want to help you, then following me is your only smart move. You don’t have to trust me. You just have to realize that you are outclassed and extremely short on options.” When the stranger finished speaking, he looked into Christopher’s eyes. “Either way, it’s been an honor to meet you,” he said. Then the stranger walked past Christopher’s outstretched arm and through the open door toward the street. Christopher only waited a second before following the stranger outside.
    The stranger was already at the end of the block when Christopher stepped out of the café. He timed it so that Christopher caught only a glimpse of him before he turned the corner, just enough so that Christopher would be able to follow him. It was clear to Christopher that the stranger had experience with this, meeting people, persuading them to follow him, and then leading them away. The stranger had, in fact, done this dozens of times before but never with someone exactly like Christopher. After all, no one else was exactly like Christopher.
    Christopher looked both ways down the Montreal street. He saw the stranger turn and Christopher followed him. Instinctively, Christopher matched the pace of the stranger. He didn’t rush to catch up. He tried to walk calmly, to appear to be moving without the agonizing purpose he felt in his gut. He did his best to control the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
    At each corner, Christopher turned in the direction the stranger had gone just in time to see the stranger turning again. Together, they walked farther and farther from the bank. Christopher put his hands in his pocket and ran his fingers over the key again. He remembered the stranger’s words.
If you go inside that bank, you’ll be dead within half an hour of leaving it.
He looked around to try to see if anyone else was watching him. He glanced behind him to see if he was being followed. Nothing. He saw nothing. He knew how little that meant, though. He made it to the corner and turned toward the stranger again.
    It went on this way for another fifteen minutes, the two men weaving through the city streets. Eventually, Christopher saw the man walk into a hotel on Sherbrooke. Christopher could see the lush green of the hills running up toward the top of Mount Royal and the miles of park running down beneath it. He still didn’t speed up. For a second, he doubted whether or not he should really be following this stranger inside. What if it was a trap? Sometimes you have to take your chances. Christopher kept walking. He couldn’t listen to his paranoia every time it told him not to do something. If he had, he wouldn’t have been able to move for the past ten years.
    Christopher entered the hotel. The lobby was buzzing with people. He looked around to see if he could see the stranger. People all around him were sitting beside their luggage on the lush furniture, waiting to check in or waiting to check out. Christopher’s eyes darted over them. A small queue of people was at the front desk. Then Christopher’s eyes moved to the elevator bay. He saw the stranger standing alone inside an elevator. He got only a quick glance at the stranger before the doors closed. The stranger made eye contact with Christopher and held up four of his fingers.
    Christopher walked quickly over to the front desk, cutting in the line of people waiting. “Can you tell me where the stairs are?” he asked the closest person behind the desk, a short woman with neatly done hair.
    â€œThe elevator bay is just over there, sir,” the