Derick walked slowly as he carried the steaming cup into the living room, making sure not to splash any of the liquid on his hands. He had a bad habit of filling his mugs too high, yet he somehow could never manage to remember this until it was too late, a strange irony for a man who forgot very little. He set the ceramic mug on the glass coffee table in front of his guest.

"Thanks," Chad said, bringing it to his lips. He laughed to himself. "You remember the last time we had coffee together?"

Derick sat down across from him on a plush tan love seat and folded his legs. "Yeah, I believe Kara murdered my phone."

Chad chuckled. "Good ol' Kara. Hell of an analyst."

"How is she these days?"

"She left a couple years after you did. Last I heard, she joined the ranks of the unplugged."

"Wow, Kara? I never would have guessed."

"So how have you been? It looks like you got your hands full with that one." Chad pointed to a picture of a thirteen-year-old Faith in braids in front of a fake sunset resting on the mantle above the fireplace.

"Doing the best I can, considering. Is there any creature on Earth more mystifying than a teenager?"

"Hmm," Chad said taking a sip. "It's a tough time to be one. How's the business?"

Derick smiled politely. There was no evidence of his private investigation business anywhere in the house except for his office up on the second floor, which meant only one thing. "You been check'n up on me Chad?"

Chad smiled sheepishly. "You were my mentor. I at least like to know that you're OK."

"Speaking of business, I heard you're in line for number two. Can't say I'm surprised. You were always a go-getter."

"After The Event, we lost a lot of good people. I guess they had to start promoting somebody."

Derick sat his cup on the table. "So, future Deputy Director Harper, is this a social call or should I be worried?"

Chad slumped forward resting his forearms on his thighs. "I need your thoughts on something. What do you know about 'The Enlightened'?"

"The Broots?" Derick asked. He thought for a moment. "Just what I've seen on the news and online. A group of overzealous cult members who think the Messiah is walking around on Earth."

"Can you believe that 'cult' now has over 1.5 billion members worldwide, making them the third largest religious organization in the world?"

"That doesn't surprise me," Derick said. "People need answers, so they're going to go with whatever makes sense to them. I'm not sure what I can add that you don't already know."

"How much do you know about what happened to John Barrows?"

Derick paused at the sound of his name. He had thought about John a lot that last couple of days and felt partially responsible for what happened to him. "He and his partner were ambushed on the fifth floor of Memorial Hospital. Two whack jobs set off a grenade. Nine people dead, including a newborn."

Chad leaned in toward him. "What if I told you that the baby survived?"

"I'd say that would be a bonafide miracle. I saw the pictures from that explosion. Why are you telling me this?"

Chad pulled a manila envelope from his breast pocket and laid it on the table. "Take a look at this."

Derick cast a leery eye at Chad as he grabbed the envelope and opened it. He pulled out three 8 X 11 glossy photos and arranged them on the table. "This is a little dramatic don't you think."

Chad pointed to an overhead shot of Alice and John in an elevator. Behind them stood two men in black slacks and white shirts. "The short guy on the left was Paul McCain, an ex-con out of Boston. His large buddy here on the right is Patrick Burns from Lancaster PA. We don't know a whole lot about Paul, but Patrick here spent the last six years of his life as an enforcer for the mob. His street name was Gavel."

"You think the hospital was a mob hit?"

"I entertained the thought at first, but that theory never did sit right with me. They send two men to a hospital, armed to the teeth, to take out a female junkie who just had a baby? Then the medical examiner showed me this." Chad pointed to the middle picture which showed a close-up of both men's right forearm. They each had identical tattoos of a Greek omega symbol with strange inscriptions over them. "You recognize this?"

"It's the mark of the Enlightened, but I'm sure you already knew that. There are probably millions of people running around with this tattoo now. You think it was a church hit?" Derick was amazed at how strange those two words sounded together.

"Do you remember why you sent John there in the first place?"

"He was the last kid born in PA. I figured we could at least get some info on the mother before she left. I was just trying to cover all of the bases."

"I assume you've heard of the Omega Child."

"Yeah, it's what they're calling the last child born on Earth. Some Russian kid, right? Dmitri something. I thought I read he died last year. "

Chad picked up the third picture of a young boy with sparkling grey eyes and held it up. "This strapping young lad is Justin Edwards, but his real name is Thelonious Martin. I have reason to believe that the world is wrong and this is the actual Omega Child."

Derick took the picture from Chad and studied it. The boy in the photograph seemed sad and disinterested in having his picture taken. Derick looked back at the other two pictures on the table then looked at Chad. "Let me guess, the kid from Lancaster Memorial."

"Unofficially? Yes."

Derick leaned back in the love seat and continued to study the photograph while he mentally connected the dots. "What are you basing this on?"

Chad pulled two sheets of paper from the envelope and laid them on top of the pictures. He pointed to one. "This is a translation of Dmitri's birth information provided by Russia, and this is Thelo's."

"Thelo? That's cute." Derick read the birth date and time of each. "It clearly shows that Dmitri was born a full twenty hours after Thelo."

Chad pointed to the bottom of the papers. "Look at the due dates and dates of conception."

Derick obliged. "Oh, Looks like Thelo was a preemie."

"I've spent the last couple years cross referencing his conception date with all other dates reported. I have yet to find one that is later than this."

"I see," Derick said, studying the documentation. "Let's assume for a minute that you're right. So the Omega Child is an American. Why do we care? It's just a title."

Chad folded his hands. "What you didn't read in the news is that the Russian government went through considerable lengths to keep Dmitri's whereabouts a secret his whole life. Why do you think that was?"

Derick shrugged. "Paparazzi?"

Chad lowered his voice. "What I'm about to tell you stays in this room."

Derick nodded.

"Following the Lancaster Hospital event, the FBI concluded that it was a mob hit and, at my suggestion, placed the baby in witness protection with a foster family – a Thomas and Rebecca Edwards of Westminster Nebraska."

"Your suggestion? What's your involvement in this?"

"When you sent us home the morning everything went down, I decided to take a trip up to Lancaster to see if I could get some additional info from the mother. When I got there, half of the Lancaster police force was at the hospital. When I pulled into the parking lot I saw a crowd of cops and medical personnel huddled around a smashed police car, and one of the officers was holding a baby. I spoke to the FBI agent on the scene who told me what happened. We decided it might be a good idea to hide the baby until they could figure out what happened. I told him the baby's safety was a matter of national security."

"You lied?"

"I said what I had to. Derick, you have the best instincts of any person I've ever met. You sent John there and then all of the sudden all hell breaks loose? You taught me never to believe in coincidences. I talked to an officer on the scene. He swears he saw an agent jump out of a fifth floor window with the baby in her arms. The agent died on impact. So I'm thinking why would a trained federal agent endanger the life of an infant like that, especially a female agent?

Derick's eyes narrowed. "They weren't after the mom, they were after the baby."

"I think the Russians figured out something that we didn't. Look, the Broots are obsessed with this concept of the Omega Child. According to their literature, they believe in the prophecy that the last child born on Earth is the child of God, and the only way to save the human race is for everyone to believe in this and worship him."

"What, you mean like the second coming?"

"Something like that. But I have a theory. I don't think they want to praise him. I think they want to kill him."

Derick raised an eyebrow. "And in doing so this will enable people to start getting pregnant again."

"Exactly."

"But Dmitri died and nothing changed." Derick thought for a moment. "So you're thinking that maybe they're thinking they got the wrong kid."

"On June 13, 2015, there were eleven separate reports of maternity ward attacks in the U.S. alone. This didn't make the news because of everything else that was going on that day."

"You mean the riots."

Chad nodded.

"So let me get this straight. You think that on June 13th there was a global coordinated attack on certain newborns, orchestrated by an underground religious organization with the sole purpose of taking out this Omega Child? I don't know Chad, that's a tough sell. They would have had to have known The Event was coming. A plan would have had to been in place. Have you approached anyone else about this?"

Chad shook his head. "There are only five people in the world that know Thelo's true identity and location; his foster parents, his therapist, his handler, and me."

"How's he doing?"

"I asked Thelo's handler to keep me in the loop as a favor, in case we needed to follow up in the future. For years everything was fine, until last March."

"What happened last March?"

Chad took another sip of his coffee then set it back down. "I'm not sure." He pulled the last piece of paper from the manila envelope and handed it to Derick. "Read it yourself."

Derick took the paper. At the top were the words 'Westminster Police Department Incident Report.'

"Says here he was attacked by three classmates during a field trip to the park."

"Keep reading."

Derick scanned the rest of the document. "This doesn't make sense."

"That's putting it mildly."

"The three boys who attacked him ended up in a coma. No signs of trauma. The doctor states 'it's like their brains simultaneously shut off.'"

"Read Justin's statement."

Derick scanned the paper again. "'...they were hitting me, calling me Flower Boy. I balled up on the ground by a tree and closed my eyes, then the hitting stopped. I opened my eyes and they were on the ground.'" He looked at Chad. "You believe this?"

"I don't know what I believe. But, I think it's worth looking into. What if they've figured out what I've figured out? We can't have cult members running around America killing kids."

"So tell the feds to send someone in and check on him."

"Here's the thing. These Broots, they're everywhere. It's an ideology, not a profession. They're bankers, school teachers, lawyers, cops, maybe even federal agents.To make matters worse, Justin's handler is an Agent White out of the Omaha office and he's been keeping me updated on Justin. No one has heard from Agent White in days."

Derick sighed and tossed the report onto the coffee table. He leaned back into his cushy chair and sized Chad up. It was an intriguing theory, one that he was sure Chad had put a lot of effort into. But this was completely beyond the scope of Chad's job description. "Why do I get the feeling that you're asking for more than just my opinion?"

Chad smiled. "Because you're a hell of an analyst, and there's no one in the world I trust more." He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a check made out to 'Anderson Investigations' and placed it on the table. "So Mr. Anderson, you ever been to Nebraska?"

***

Faith looked down in disgust at the contents of her pale yellow lunch tray as she made her way to her table. Sure, the school's food selection had been pretty bad for most of her life, and she understood that this was mostly due to the massive budget cuts to education following The Event. But what she saw before her hardly seemed fit for the human body. She plopped down on the worn plastic seat across from Kyle and Lana.

"I swear they don't even try anymore."

Kyle took a scoop of mashed potato substance in his spoon and held it in front of him. "If I fed this to my dog, he'd kick my ass."

"You don't have a dog," Lana said. She leaned back and looked at him. "Come to think of it, you don't have an ass either."

Faith giggled. "You two should go to the Cupid room already." It slipped out of her mouth before her brain could exercise its veto. She needed to change the subject. "So tell me about this grand plan for the summer I keep hearing so much about."

Kyle leaned back in his chair and smiled. "Oh you mean the New York thing? So my parents are talk'n about going up to Buffalo this summer to help out my aunt and uncle. I got an older cousin Steve there who's been unplugged for like five years. I heard he's got a whole field of super cannabis up there, legit, showed me a picture and everything. His place is like twenty miles from Canada! OK, picture this: wandering around the streets of Toronto at night stoned out our medulla. Yes please!"

Faith took a drink of her room temperature milk. "Interesting," she said.

"Interesting?" Lana said, narrowing her brow. "Try insanely ridic! You in?"

Kyle held up his hands. "Woah, before we get into that, something just occurred to me. Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

Faith shot the stink eye over at Lana who held her palms up in innocence. "What? I swear I didn't say anything!"

Kyle stood up. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention. The youngest member of Thomas Middleton High School is finally, finally on the market. Let the speculation begin!" He pointed to Lana. "Who do you got?"

"Sit down!" Faith snapped.

Lana looked around the cafeteria in fake amazement. "I don't know, there's so many options!"

"I'm gonna go with Greg Simmons," Kyle said sitting down. "I see how he looks at her."

"Greg from Biology class?" Lana said. "Nah, he just has a lazy eye."

"You two are retarded," Faith said.

Lana's eyes widened as she tracked a figure headed towards them from the lunch line. She smiled broadly. "I choose him."

A tall boy with broad shoulders and messy black hair walked up to the empty seat next to Faith. His name was Brian London, a senior, academic phenom and, unbeknownst to her friends, the only true danger to Faith's virginity. They met near the beginning of the year when Faith had requested a tutor to help bring up her Freshman Chemistry grade. She experienced the strangest tingly feeling whenever he was around, ever since the first day he rang her doorbell, his study materials tucked neatly under his muscular arms. But the weapon from his arsenal of hotness that Faith feared most was his smile. Whenever he unleashed it, it was an open invitation for the butterflies to come out and play. Brian looked around at the members of the lunch party. "You guys mind if I sit here?"

Faith looked up in surprise. "Brian! Sure, have a seat." She tapped the empty chair next to her.

"Who, him?" Kyle asked, staring at Lana. "I think you'd lose that wager sweetheart."

Brian placed his tray on the table then sat down and smiled. "So what are we bet'n on?"

Faith tried unsuccessfully to suppress the blood that was rushing to her cheeks. "Kyle's life expectancy. So far it doesn't look good."

"Ok, Ok," Kyle said, turning his attention back to his liquid lunch. "People can't have an opinion anymore."

"So how ya been?" Faith asked. If there was any chance she was going to eat her food it had just gone out the window.

"Not too bad," Brian said. "I got accepted to Berkeley. Just found out yesterday."

"That's great!" Faith said, squeezing his firm shoulder. "Deciding to be part of the solution, huh? I'm happy for you." Ever since The Event, Berkeley had transformed into the fertility research hub of the U.S. Word on the street was that they were closing in on an experimental drug that might be able solve the baby crisis.

"That is great!" Lana said. She turned to Kyle. "So Kyle, why don't you tell them what your plans are after the summer?"

Kyle looked down at his plate and began shoveling food in his mouth. "I thought we agreed not to talk about this at school."

Faith scooted her chair closer to the table. "OK now I have to know."

"Oh, what?" Lana said. "My boyfriend decides he's gonna run away and join a group of militant bible-bangers and I can't tell anybody?"

"Ok, first off, I'm not running anywhere," Kyle said, "and maybe if you did some research every now and then you'd realize that the beliefs of The Enlightened have nothing to do with the Bible. Hell, you might even realize that they're our best bet for fixing this whole mess. No offense Brian."

"None taken," Brian answered, still smiling.

"You're gonna join the Broots?" Faith asked. She fixed her mouth to begin a long list of reasons why this was a bad idea but couldn't seem to form the words. She pointed at Kyle in frustration while staring at Lana. "What the hell is wrong with your man?"

"I don't know," Lana said taking a sip of milk. "But do me a favor and text me when you figure it out."

"So Faith," Brian said. "I heard today is a big day for you."

Faith subconsciously placed a hand on her stomach. "Uh, yeah, I guess you could say that."

"So a couple of us were thinking about driving down to Baltimore tonight and celebrating the Berkley news. What do you say we turn it into a birthday celebration instead?"

Faith grinned as she envisioned walking around the inner harbor, arm and arm with Brian, the lights from the restaurants reflecting off of the water. Suddenly an image of her father interrupted the scene and her eyes lost their glaze.

"That sounds nice," Faith said, "but me and my Dad have plans tonight. It's a difficult time of the year for him."

"No prob," Brian said, hiding his disappointed eyes with a smile. "I totally get it. Family's important. Maybe another time?"

Faith nodded and offered a thin smile in return.

Kyle was still sulking as he watched the awkward scene. He leaned over and whispered to Lana. "I heard her dad's an Atheist, but people want to give me crap for wanting to join the Broots. At least they believe in something positive. I mean, people act like they're running around killing people or something!"

Faith felt her cell phone vibrate. She pulled it from her back pocket.

"Who is it?" Lana asked.

"My Dad," Faith said. She pressed the message with her thumb and read it:

Hey sweetie. Slight change in plans tonight. I'll be by to pick you up early in thirty minutes. I'll explain everything to you when I see you. Love you lots.