Page 50 of A SEAL's Protection
“I’m ready.”
Dad takes my elbow and steers me over to the waiting press. He stops a few feet from them and lets go of my elbow.
“I shouldn’t be in the shot.”
He’s right. I need to do this alone, without the backing of my influential father. He gives me a kiss on the forehead, then steps aside.
I take a deep breath and approach the crowd flanked by two of Dad’s security team. I step up to the podium, and the crowd erupts with questions. Microphones point at me, and cameras and phones jostle for the front position. A bright light shines in my eyes, making it hard to see faces.
I hold up my sample case and my camcorder. “I have evidence of the runoff pollution that mining companies and the government have denied.”
I hold up my camcorder. “And I have evidence of the sabotage that tried to stop me from collecting the samples.”
I explain my findings, keeping it factual and scientific, and explain that every newsroom in the country will be sent the footage from my expedition.
“I will make the findings freely available.”
I stand tall as I hold the samples aloft. “Science matters, truth matters.”
The podium erupts with a barrage of questions, which I try to answer as best I can.
Lights make my eyes ache, and one of Dad’s aides murmurs that it’s time to wind it down.
I scan the crowd, and there’s only one face I’m looking for. I spot him, using the crowd for cover, his body angled away from the cameras. The cap is pulled low so I can’t see his eyes or what expression he’s wearing. He’s hanging in the back, blending into the shadows. His damn SEAL training, I guess, but it hurts that he’s not here by my side.
“Did you have any help out on the trail?” a reporter asks.
I want to tell them about Marcus, how he kept me safe, how he enabled me to get the ice sample, how I couldn’t have done it without him.
But when I glance at Marcus staying on the periphery, his head tilted to scan the crowd, I know he wouldn’t want that. Besides, the narrative will be stronger if I say I didn’t have help. It’s a better story and will get the word out further. But it’s a lie. I didn’t do it alone. I couldn’t have.
It’s a lie for maximum impact, I tell myself.
“No,” I say, swallowing hard. “I did it on my own.”
There’s an appreciative murmur, and I feel the respect in the way they look at me. This is what I wanted, isn’t it? To prove I could do it alone.
But it’s a hollow victory.
The reporters surge forward with more questions, and when I look again, Marcus is gone.
The press conference winds down, and Dad’s aides sweep me off the podium. Before I go, I twist around, hoping for one last glimpse.
We went through so much together. Marcus is the reason I’m here. I want to shout it out. I want to tell our story. He saved my life; he carried me through this. But now he’s just…gone.
Dad laces his arm through mine, and he squeezes my arm. “I’m so proud of you Eggy.”
I hear the truth of it in his voice. I force a smile for him, but my heart feels hollow.
An aide opens the door to the back seat of his Mercedes, and he ushers me inside. The door slams shut behind me, and I sink into the luxury of the padded seats.
The three-car convoy sweeps out of the airfield, and I clutch my camcorder in my lap. Victory feels hollow without Marcus by my side.
It hurts that he didn’t even say goodbye, even though I understand it. He wouldn’t want to be in the spotlight. And my life is in the spotlight. At least my life with Dad in Boston is.
I grasp my camcorder in one hand and the samples in the other. They’ll need to be sent to a lab and verified as soon as possible, and we make arrangements to stop somewhere on the way home.
As we drive away from the mountains, I watch the scenery turn from lush green to a concrete highway.
