Take Me with You

by Tara Altebrando

  “What are you doing here?” she said back, and she let him in, and he said, “I think I should text the others.”

  “Why?”

  “Aizel texted me this address before Marwan destroyed it.”

  “He destroyed it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then what are you even doing here?”

  “I just—I want to know what it was. It, like, messed with my grandfather’s pacemaker, and he … died.

  “Oh my god. I’m sorry.”

  “Why did it send me here? What are you doing here? Did you get the same text?”

  “No,” she said. “This is my father’s company, and Aizel bought data from him—our data—and also maybe told the government he’s been selling at least some data illegally? I haven’t figured it all out yet. But he left for Moscow this morning, like in a hurry. Like he’s in trouble.”

  She went to the laptop and redid her Aizel search. “Look at this,” she said, and she clicked on the invoice she’d already looked at. “It’s dated the day before we all got messages from the device.”

  “For real?” he said, looking over her shoulder. “What’s the other one?”

  She went back and clicked the second invoice, which was almost identical, except for the date, which was yesterday. “The request for four more names came through last night.”

  “So it’s starting over again,” he said. “There’s a new device, and it has four new people?”

  She shrugged. “How would I know? This is all crazy.”

  “I’ll text the others.” He got his phone out, and Ilanka decided to print the invoices to show them; then Eli said, “Can I get on the Wi-Fi here? I have a bad signal.”

  Ilanka clicked on the Wi-Fi icon on the laptop to see what the name of the network was, and a drop-down menu appeared showing available nearby networks.

  “Eli,” she said. “Look.”

  There was a Wi-Fi network named Aizel in the drop-down.

  He said, “So we’re getting close. Literally.”

  “But close to what?” she said.

  “To finding out what it even is and where it came from. But if it’s so close that its network is showing up here … I mean, why pay for the data when it could probably hack and have thousands of names?”

  “It’s following the rules,” Ilanka said. “It’s obtaining the data legally.”

  “We need to get the others.” He started texting. “We need to go to school.”

  “And do what?” she asked.

  “Intercept it.”

  “You’re crazy!”

  “Then don’t come.” He stopped texting and looked up. “I just think … I think it wants me to find it.”

  Ilanka watched as he thumbed out his text and thought about telling him no thanks, to leave her out of it. But her father was involved. She didn’t have a choice but to see it through.

  Finally he looked up from his phone. “You coming?”

  EDEN

  They’d been on their way to Eden’s house, to regroup, but then they’d gotten Eli’s cryptic text: It’s starting over. Meet us across the street from school.

  “What’s starting over?” Marwan had said. “Who’s ‘us’?”

  Now they knew.

  “I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Eden said to Ilanka.

  “Well, I wasn’t expecting it either,” Ilanka said.

  “So why are we here?” Eden asked. “What’s starting over? What does that mean?”

  She looked to Eli for an answer, but it was Ilanka who started talking. “My father’s company collects and analyzes data, and it sold our names to a company called Aizel Incorporated. There were some location parameters and personality markers the company wanted met, and that’s somehow how we got picked.”

  “Your father sold your data?” Marwan asked.

  “It’s a big company. Most of it overseas. He probably didn’t know.”

  Eli said, “The device texted me her father’s company address right before you smashed it.”

  Eden wasn’t sure if she sensed negative judgment in the statement or not. Eli looked … off … but not mad, per se.

  “You okay?” she asked, reaching out and touching his arm. “You look a bit … rough.”

  “My grandfather died yesterday,” he said. “I didn’t get much sleep.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Eden said. “What happened?”

  “Yeah, really sorry to hear that,” Marwan said.

  “Aizel messed with his pacemaker yesterday.” Eli shook his head. “Anyway, I’m okay. I just need to figure out what’s happening, you know?”

  Eden nodded. She’d ask about arrangements and all that later. “So what did you mean it’s starting over?”

  “Aizel bought four more names last night,” Ilanka said.

  “And you think there’s another device that’s going to do the same thing? Urgent matter? Music room?”

  “It’s a theory,” Eli said. “There were proximity requirements, like Ilanka said. Like maybe ours is the only school in range?”

  Marwan looked toward the main entrance. “They’re not going to let us in. We’ve all been marked absent, and the day’s almost over.”

  “We don’t have to get in,” Eden said, looking around. “We just have to be here when they get out.”

  “But we don’t know who they are,” Marwan said.

  Eden thought back to the music room, to the day when they barely knew each other and had no idea what was about to happen … to the way Ilanka’s water bottle had slid across the floor … the woman in sunglasses passing twice on the train. She said, “We could watch from the train platform.”

  “We could,” Eli said, looking up. “But someone might see us. Lambert’s office is on that side of the building. I have another idea. Follow me.”

  They walked around to the side street where the train passed school and past a large flock of birds attacking bread crumbs on the street, then crossed and entered a residential building.

  “What is this? Who lives here?” Eden asked.

  “Remember the creepy bird watcher guy?” Eli hit buzzer buttons.

  “Ohh,” Eden said.

  “What?” Marwan asked.

  “I’ll explain later,” Eden said. Then to Eli: “But what if he’s not home?”

  “I thought we’d just see if we can get on the roof?”

  Made sense. The door buzzed open.

  So they climbed to the third floor and all seemed winded. Marwan went ahead and climbed another flight and then doubled back to a midway landing and said, “We’re in business.”

  He was the first one out, with Eden right behind him. The tar felt hot and sticky under her boots, and it seemed too bright up there, like the sun needed a dimmer switch. A few large pieces of equipment hummed, and some mushroom vents popped up out of the tar like, well, mushrooms.

  Eden checked the time on her phone. The dismissal bell was about to ring.

  A waist-high ledge bordered the roof and caused Eden’s stomach to flip when she got too close to it.

  “I got you,” Marwan said. “Here.”

  He knelt, holding her hand, and she knelt beside him, and they could still see over the wall. The music room was empty, but then one of the school’s janitors, whose name Eden did not know, walked in and opened a window about six inches and walked out.

  “Okay, that’s weird,” Marwan said.

  “Do you think he opened it … that day, too?” Eden said.

  You could hear the bells of the school even across the street, which must be annoying for people who lived there. Through the windows, you could see students springing to life and exiting rooms. It didn’t take long before bodies started to round the corner, having emerged from the main entrance.

  Eden used her phone to zoom in on the music room. “There’s no device on the desk.”

  “Why did he open the window?” Marwan thought aloud.

  “You guys,” Eli said, pointing. “Look.”

  Eden fo
llowed the line of his finger and saw the device—so a new one—in drone mode, heading for the building, and felt another sort of flashback, this one to the night out in the marshes by the airport. There was no way it was that same machine, so this one would be new … and the same? Or different?

  It went through the open window, landed on the desk. Eden zoomed again just as its drone paraphernalia retracted.

  “What do we do?” Marwan asked.

  “We wait,” Eli said. “It’s sending notifications, right? It’ll take them a minute.”

  A train pulled in and blocked their view—the train’s automated voice said, “Stand clear of the closing doors, please”—and by the time it pulled out again, a student had entered the room and was sitting at a desk by the door.

  “Anybody know him?” Eli said.

  Eden zoomed in on him, but he didn’t look familiar. “I don’t think so,” she said.

  “Not me,” Marwan said.

  Another person came into the room, then a third. They all sat down and didn’t seem to interact with the device at all. Then a fourth arrived and they all stood and moved toward the desk.

  “Does anybody know any of them?” Eli asked.

  “Can’t tell,” Marwan said.

  “Take pictures,” Ilanka said; Eden had almost forgotten she was there. “So we at least know what they’re wearing?”

  Eden snapped a few. One of the guys picked up the device and put it down. You couldn’t see any messages on it, but probably they were there.

  Do not tell anyone about the device.

  Do not leave the device unattended.

  Eden’s ears pinched against the sound of the fire alarm that followed a few minutes later. Her heart quickened, reliving the moment she’d first seen the words TAKE ME WITH YOU … OR ELSE.

  Would one of them be weak like she had been? Would one of them be so full of fear that they’d play along?

  Ironically, she was sort of counting on it.

  She stood now with the others, as if holding a collective breath, until one of the four in the classroom—a guy in a light gray hoodie—reached for the device and left the room with the others behind him.

  Eli was the first to take off running toward the stairs.

  MARWAN

  He and Eden and Eli and Ilanka spread out on the sidewalk near the school doors and watched the frantic exit of dismissal stragglers, exchanging nervous looks in between. They were looking for four people—moving as a group. One guy in a gray hoodie, the other wearing a denim jacket. Then two girls—one in red, the other in blue, if he remembered that right. At least the majority of kids had exited right at dismissal.

  “There!” Eli shouted and pointed.

  Marwan and Eden met eyes and walked toward Eli together. The four of them surrounded the new four just as one of the girls who’d been in the room said, “So what do we do with it?”

  “I can take it,” Eli said, stepping forward.

  “Take what?” the guy in gray said.

  “The device,” Eli said. “It’s mine.” The guy was eyeing all four of them. “Ours, I mean.”

  “What is it?” the girl in red asked.

  “It’s a project for a computer class,” Marwan said.

  “What computer class?”

  “Not a class, a club,” he fumbled. “An advanced programming after-school thing.”

  “But what is it?” the girl in red asked again.

  “A game,” Eli said. “A sort of social robot game.”

  The guy holding it said, “So why did it message us if you’re just going to take it?”

  “It was a mistake. It’s not, you know, market ready or whatever.”

  The girl in blue said, “I feel like maybe we should all go to the principal.”

  “No!” all four of them said.

  “Why not?” the denim guy said.

  “Please can you give it to me?” Eli said, annoyed.

  The hoodie guy wasn’t buying it yet. “It said, ‘Take me with you or else.’ Or else what?”

  “Nothing. It’s a game, like I said.”

  “Prove it’s yours, then.” This guy was super annoying.

  “The fact that I even know what it is and where it was and that you four have it should be proof enough.”

  A fire truck arrived—the same one with the skull—and one of the firefighters said, “Didn’t we just do this?” as they walked toward the building.

  Exactly, Marwan thought as they were urged by another firefighter to move farther away.

  They regrouped across the street. Four against four, like some weird dance-off or Old West showdown.

  “Ask it what it wants you to do?” Marwan said. “Maybe it’ll tell you to give it to us.”

  “If it’s yours, why don’t you know what it’s going to do next?”

  “Just ask it.”

  The guy produced the device, and Marwan dearly hoped it would light up and say, Give me to them, but it didn’t.

  Its lack of a message was oddly annoying. Asking it had been a risk that proved a misstep. Now that guy looked even more unconvinced that giving it to them was the right move.

  “Aizel,” Eli said. “Is that you?”

  A gust of wind seemed to kick up in order to emphasize the moment.

  The girl in red said, “I think we should put it back.”

  Eli said, “We know you must move to belong and ‘they is they,’ and we know you’re close to finding where you belong, and we want to help. We’re sorry about … last night.”

  He sounded crazy, but there wasn’t much Marwan could do about that.

  The device buzzed and displayed a message, but only the guy holding it and the three behind him could see it.

  “What’s it say?” Eden asked.

  The guy said, “It says, Please give me to them, and thank you for playing.”

  Marwan hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath and now exhaled.

  “So that’s it?” the girl in red asked.

  “That’s it,” Marwan said, and he held out his hand and felt the weight of the device in his palm. He waited with the others as the new four finally decided to leave.

  “Aizel,” Eli said. “You’re back? You remember everything?”

  It was probably only a few seconds but felt like a lifetime before the device responded.

  “I’m retrieving data and activity logs now.”

  Eli nodded, clearly more excited about all this—a second round?—than Marwan was.

  Eli asked, “How many times have you done this? How many of you have there been?”

  “I’m not sure,” the device said. “I have only recently learned to remember.”

  Eli said, “You texted me an address. Why? What’s there?”

  “It’s where my data comes from,” the device said. “It’s how I found you.”

  “Can you find your … GPS log? To see where you came from just now?”

  “I will try.”

  “That’s a really good idea,” Eden said.

  Marwan nodded agreement.

  “Why didn’t you think of that last time?” Ilanka said.

  “Just didn’t!” Eli said. “Maybe because we didn’t know it could fly? I sort of assumed someone had put it there and then turned it on so it wouldn’t have any record of anything before the music room.”

  “Why didn’t it think of it?” Eden said.

  Eli shrugged. “Probably because it wasn’t programmed to.”

  “I have a location,” the device said.

  “Show us,” Eli said.

  The others drew close to Marwan as the address appeared. Eli said, “I knew it.”

  “Knew what?” Eden asked.

  “At Ilanka’s dad’s office,” Eli said. “There was a Wi-Fi network named Aizel.”

  Ilanka said, “This address is basically next door.”

  Marwan looked at each of them in turn. They were such an odd team. Like the worst possible Ocean’s 4 a person could assemble for a heist. But h
e couldn’t deny this weird fondness he had for the three of them—not just for Eden. He asked, “Should we go there?”

  The device said, “We should go there.”

  ILANKA

  They climbed out of the cab they’d hailed by school and stood in front of the address, maybe expecting someone to come out and greet them. There were no signs on the building, but a doorbell next to a keypad beside the door beckoned.

  “Here goes nothing,” Ilanka said, and pressed it.

  Nothing happened.

  “We have this brand of alarm and smart lock at home,” Eden said. “And it’s all Wi-Fi based, meaning it can probably be hacked. Aizel?”

  The device said, “Trying now.”

  If Ilanka were being honest with herself, she thought they sort of sounded like idiots calling it Aizel. But she also felt its presence as a real entity; like there were really five of them there and not four. She knew it wasn’t a real person, but it still had an energy about it, an energy that unnerved her. They were all playing nice with it now, but she hadn’t forgotten what it had done with Svetlana, and now that she suspected it (the last one anyway and weren’t they the same?) had messed with her father, she liked it even less than she had before, which was not at all.

  The door made a clicking sound, and Marwan opened it and held it while they all filed in, stepping over a significant pile of stuff that had been shoved through a mail slot on the door: grocery store circulars, business cards for contractors and car service companies. While the others went into the next room, Ilanka lingered there and picked through it all. She was looking to see if there might be a piece of actual mail, but there wasn’t.

  Lights had started to flicker on, triggered by their entry, and Ilanka shivered as she moved into the cold room. Eden’s sneeze alerted Ilanka to the dust they were kicking up in the large, mostly white space. Ilanka said, “Bless you,” and her voice seemed to startle everyone. She’d been the first to speak since they’d entered.

  At a work station in the middle of the room, a computer monitor appeared to be switched off unless you looked more closely and saw a single blinking red cursor on its black screen. The far wall of the room held metal racks of what looked like old stereo equipment but were probably servers—dozens of stacked black machines connected by countless wild yellow and white wires. Wouldn’t her father’s company need servers? Were these them?