"I will never again raise a hand against a fellow Libyan," Sanusi went on. "My men and I have attacked and harassed Zuwayy's troops in the desert long enough. I only want peace. I shall head toward the Great Mosque in Tripoli and pray at the former final resting place of my mother, before Qadhafi removed her body from there and discarded it in the desert. I will order my men not to fight. If you want me to return to Tripoli, if you want me to live, you must take back the streets of the capital from the Republican Guard. Help me to return to our capital, and I promise you, I will help restore our country to its former greatness. If you wish me to do so, I will help bring peace to Libya. Otherwise, I wish to live in Libya as a teacher and engineer and help Libya rebuild. The choice, and the decision, is up to you, my brothers and sisters. Misae el kher. Ma'as salaema."
When Sanusi rose from his seat, every man and woman in the room bowed-not only his men, but the Republican Guards captured there as well. He exited the communications facility and stepped outside into the growing dawn.
Sidi Salih, on the foothills of the Tarhuna Mountains of northwest Libya, was on a slight rise, so Muhammad asSanusi could see north past the wide expanse of desert all the way into Tripoli. The Tripoli International Airport, closed during the conflict, was slightly to the west; but the city itself, and even the Mediterranean Sea, could clearly be seen. It was a beautiful, awe-inspiring sight. He was about to put on his helmet, but he changed his mind, unwrapped the turban from the helmet, then wrapped it around his head. He had had enough of fighting.
But there was a sight even more beautiful than the sunrise over Al-Khums to the east or the view of the ancient city of Tripoli on the Mediterranean-the sight of thousands of cars, trucks, bicycles, and buses roaring south down the highway toward Sidi Salih. At first he thought it might be the Republican Guards; but before long he noticed that none of the flags he saw were the Socialist Arab Republic flags or Zuwayy's bastardized imperial flag, but the old imperial flags with his family crest on them. Those flags had been outlawed since the revolution.
Muhammad Sanusi climbed into his desert vehicle and took his place in the gunner's seat in the back-but then he unbolted the big twenty-three-millimeter machine gun from its pedestal and threw it to the ground. His driver then took him to meet his people so they could welcome him back to his capital, his country-and his true home."
EPILOGUE
Even young Bradley realized right away that it wasn't just another boat ride with his "uncles" Hal, Chris, and Dave. They had no fishing poles, no scuba gear-just the strange aluminum urn.
"Mommy is really dead, Daddy?" Bradley asked.
"Yes, son," Patrick replied.
He touched the urn. "Is she in there?" A lump formed in Patrick's throat-he couldn't answer. "Those are Mommy's ashes, aren't they?" Patrick looked at the deck of the boathow in hell do you answer something like that? "I remember in Star Wars, when Qui-Gon Jinn was killed by Darth Maul, they put him in a fire and prayed for him. Is that what we did with Mommy?"
The tears burst forth, despite every effort Patrick made to be strong. Through tear-streaked eyes, he looked at his son. "Is… is that okay, son?"
"I… guess so." He started to cry, and it tore into Patrick's heart like a sword.
"Mommy… Mommy was just like Qui-Gon Jinn," Patrick said. "She was a warrior. She was gentle and she loved us very much, and she was so smart and built wonderful things, but when the bad guys attacked, she fought like a Jedi Knight."
"She sure did," Chris Wohl said. "She was as brave as a Jedi Knight. Even as brave as a U.S. Marine."
Bradley smiled, then looked at the urn. "So we can keep this?"
Patrick tapped Bradley's chest, then his head. "Mommy's here, in your heart; and she's here, in your memory. And she'll always be there. Forever. She's not in there."
"Then why do we have Mommy's ashes in there?"
Patrick had thought about this moment since he left Libya: how to explain death to his young son. The only thing he could decide is to try to not explain too much at once. He was young; he would eventually understand.
"Brad, I told you about the soul, remember?"
"Yes," Bradley said proudly. "The soul is the tiny bit of magic that makes a person."
"Right. And what did I tell you about the soul?" Bradley looked a little confused. "Can the soul ever die?"
"You said 'no.'"
"Right. The soul can never die. Everything that we loved about Mommy was in her soul, and that can never die. Right?" The little boy nodded. "But our bodies can die. They wear out, get old, and get hurt. Doctors can fix our bodies, but our bodies will eventually die anyway. Like trees and flowers and all living things, they die."
"Like Mufasa in The Lion King?' Patrick smiled and nodded-thank God for kids' movies. "Are you going to die too, Dad?"
Patrick hugged his son, then looked him straight in the eyes. "Someday I will, son-but right now, I'm here with you, and so are Uncle David and Uncle Hal and Uncle Chris. We'll always be here for you.
"But do you know what happens when y"6u die, Bradley? Your soul is ready for a journey. Mommy's soul gets to go into another body. We don't know who, or where, or when, but it does."
"Cool," Bradley said. "She's dead, but she's not really dead." He looked up into the blue-gray sky and squinted, searching until his eyes hurt. "Is that what heaven is?"
"A soul can go to heaven too. There are lots of worlds and things to see and do for the soul. But you know what we have to do before the soul can go on its journey?"
"What?"
"We have to tell Mommy's soul that it's okay for her to go," Patrick said. "You see, Mommy doesn't want to leave you and me. She'd rather stay here. She knows how sad you are, and that makes her feel bad."
"Then she can stay here with me?"
"If you really want her to, yes, she can," Patrick said carefully. "But remember: Mommy's soul can also go into another body. Once it's inside someone else, the things that made us love Mommy, the magic that was inside her soul, will be alive again."
"So… so someone else is waiting to love Mommy?"
"Exactly, son." Damn, Patrick thought, thank God his son was smart and open-minded enough to think on his own-he was making this whole ordeal much easier.
"But I still don't want Mommy to go."
"You know that Mommy will never be far away from us-we just have to think about her, and her soul will return," Patrick said. "Sometimes when you're sleeping, Mommy will visit you in your dreams-other times, you'll be doing something else, or maybe be having a problem, and then poof! All of a sudden, Mommy will be there. But we can share the magic in Mommy's soul with the rest of the world. That way, maybe other little boys and girls can enjoy some of Mommy's soul too and love her just like we do."
"But how do we do that, if she's.. dead?"
"We have to tell her that it's okay to go on her journey to find those other people that need her," Patrick said. "Remember, her soul will never die-but we have to say goodbye. So what do you say? Is it okay?"