Grave Shadows by Jerry B. Jenkins, Chris Fabry Page B

who we were.
    We stopped in front of one of the huge red rock formations, and everybody got off their bikes. By this time, friends and family members had caught up and wanted to take pictures. Some were crying. I guess remembering loved ones who had died from cancer. Jeff’s parents took photos and shot video.
    Gary came up to me and said, “We still have a little farther to go. You okay?”
    I nodded. I wanted to get back on the bike and help Jeff finish. And I had a good idea of my own to make the end of the trip even more memorable.

Chapter 71

    Sam came home early from the airport and got us all together for the trip to the Springs. I think it was hard for Mom to have Bryce gone this long without being able to do more than talk on the phone. Dylan had colored Bryce three pictures—though you really couldn’t tell what they were besides crayon circles with eyes and smiling mouths.
    Leigh acted like she didn’t care if she went or stayed, but I suspected she was getting more interested in Jeff’s story and wanted to see how things turned out.
    The trip was originally scheduled to end at the Garden of the Gods, but an e-mail to the families said it would now end at the Olympic training center in downtown Colorado Springs.
    We got there about an hour before the bicyclists were to arrive, and the parking lot was already nearly full. We took our place on Boulder Street and sat on a blanket. It was hard to keep Dylan in one place, so I took him a couple of blocks away to a park.
    I pushed him on the swing set, trying to let him go as high as he wanted. As I kept a close eye on him and urged him to hang on tight, he yelled, “Higher!”
    But then I heard yelling and clapping from the crowd. “Time to go see Bryce,” I said.

Chapter 72

    We rode out of the Garden of the Gods toward the city. Police blocked traffic, and soon we neared the statue of General Palmer, the man who founded Colorado Springs. Jeff was pedaling now too.
    “We’re going to make it,” he said, panting. “We’re really going to make it.”
    “Two hundred miles,” I said.
    “I couldn’t have done it without you.”
    When we reached Boulder Street, I signaled to Gary and everyone pulled to the side. I hopped off and turned to Jeff.
    He looked like he had lost his mother at an amusement park. “What?”
    “You’re taking us home,” I said. “Get in the front.”
    His mouth dropped and he just sat there.
    “Alexander!” Gary shouted. “You’re holding us up.”
    “Yeah, get a move on, Jeff!” someone else said. Others joined in, and Jeff smiled as wide as I’d ever seen him. We traded places.
    Everyone else stayed back as Jeff pulled ahead. Then they fell in behind us. I didn’t have to worry about steering, so I looked back at hundreds of riders who had become my friends over the last four days. We had started as separate riders, and now we had one goal—seeing Jeff finish.
    Police-car lights flashed as they followed our convoy. We headed up Boulder Street, pedaling past people, cars, and more flashing lights. We were getting close.
    Jeff stood to pedal and dipped his head. I could tell he was crying.
    “You okay?” I said.
    “I just wish this wouldn’t end,” he said.
    “Hey, I told you, we’ll do it again next year.”
    Jeff nodded, but we both knew. There would be no next year.
    “Something I want to tell you,” Jeff said as we passed cheering throngs.
    “I’m all ears,” I said.
    “DM will be looking for one last box. You can show it to them.”
    “Who’s DM?” I shouted.
    “Just listen. We’ve been there together only once, but that’s where you’ll find the clue. Go there and you’ll solve the mystery.”
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
    “I recorded some thoughts on my machine for the last column. Think you could help?”
    “People don’t want to hear from me, Jeff. They want to hear from you.”
    “I’m tired. I’d feel better knowing you could handle this.”
    “Fine, but