by Jenni Wilder
I texted my sister to break the news that she had a sick kid at home. She replied, telling me she’d try to get off work early. Thank God, I thought. I didn’t mind in the least taking care of my niece, and I was happy to help, but I knew Rebecca wanted to be here for her daughter, and if she was able to come home early I could work on my thesis and finally e-mail my advisor.
~~~~~~~~
I heard the front door open and close as I paced the hallway holding my cell phone to my ear. I was trying to wait patiently, but the music they were playing while I was on hold was not making it easy.
I darted out to the living room to find my sister in her nursing uniform leaning over her daughter on the couch. Tabitha barely stirred as her mother adjusted her blankets.
“Oh, thank God! You’re home early.”
“Why? Did she get worse?” Rebecca brushed Tabitha’s bangs back to feel her forehead.
“No. I think she’s okay. She’s been sleeping. But my computer crashed. I’m on hold with the tech department at school waiting to hear if they can look at it.” My voice was calm despite the rising panic inside me. I was on the verge of losing it. I had been seconds away from e-mailing my advisor when a small pop-up window appeared. Then another… and another… until my whole screen was filled. Nothing I tried was effective at stopping the spawn of windows clogging my screen, and when I tried to restart my computer, I got the blue screen of death before it crashed and displayed black and white garble.
“Oh no! Did you lose all your work?” my sister asked.
“I don’t know. It should be saved in my cloud storage, but I have no way to check. I’m trying to see if someone can look at it.”
The awful hold music abruptly stopped. “Jillian?” a man’s voice said through the phone.
“Yes?”
“I can look at your laptop if you’re here by 4:30.”
I looked at the clock on the wall. That was fifteen minutes away. “Yes! I can do that. I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Come to Samson Hall, room 309. Check in at the front desk and ask for Isaac.”
“Thank you so much! I’ll be right there!”
As I put on my shoes and packed up my laptop, it registered in the back of my mind that I was about to do the exact opposite of what Lincoln had requested. I had promised him I wouldn’t go anywhere alone, but this would be the second time today that I broke my promise. I couldn’t see any alternative, though. Tabitha clearly wasn’t able to come with me, and my sister had to stay home with her. I had no choice.
“What’s Lincoln going to say?” my sister asked, somehow knowing what I was thinking.
“I’ll tell him later. I’m sure no one is planning to hurt me in the computer department.”
Rebecca chewed on her bottom lip, clearly unhappy with my answer. “What if Kennedy or Emily went with you?”
“There’s no way either of them could get here in time. I have to be there like right now.”
“All right. Just—just be careful,” she said unhappily.
“It’ll be fine. I’m sure,” I said trying to reassure both her and me.
Chapter Fourteen
“Well, I’ve got bad news and worse news,” my tech guy, Isaac said.
I had been waiting for an hour and a half to find out my laptop’s diagnosis when he finally called me into a back room filled with several round tables. Multicolored wires were draped across two of them. Wide-eyed, focused, tech guys sat at two other tables, totally absorbed in the computers in front of them. My laptop sat at another table next to two other laptops. Isaac sat down in front of one of them and pulled a chair up next to him for me to sit.
“You can’t fix it?” I asked as I took my seat.
“No.” He tapped on my mouse’s track pad. The screen woke up but instantly turned to a garbled mess of words and what looked like binary code. “I’m afraid you’ve got a nasty virus. It auto generated and corrupted all your files until your motherboard crashed.”
FUUUCK!
“I could replace the motherboard and hard drive, but you might as well just buy a new computer for what that’s going to cost you, and all your files will still be gone.”
I wanted to scream. I didn’t have the money for a new laptop. I currently had no steady form of income, and my savings were quickly running out. And I was not about to let Lincoln buy me one.
“Shit,” I uttered in disbelief.
Isaac chuckled softly. “Yeah. I hope you didn’t have anything irreplaceable on there.”
I sighed. “Well, I saved everything to my cloud, but can I access that from my sister’s desktop computer at home?”
“Of course. You just have to connect to the university network. Want me to walk you through it?”
I nodded. “I’d appreciate it.” My sister’s desktop was old; she had used it when she was in college. It may not be ideal, but I felt it was my only option.
Isaac pushed my worthless laptop away and pulled another to the center of the table between us. Within a few clicks he had reviewed with me how to connect to the network and had my cloud storage drive displayed on the screen.
My skin prickled as I waited for my files to load but nothing happened.
“Um,” Isaac said awkwardly. “Did you say you had files on here?”
“Yes! My whole thesis paper and all my research data is on there!”
Isaac clicked a few more icons. “Not anymore. Your cloud is empty.”
“What?!” I stood up quickly, knocking my chair over.
My tech guru looked up at me with surprise. “There are no files on here. Are you sure you saved it to your cloud?”
“Yes!”
He frowned. “Well, someone deleted them.”
Dammit!
“The virus?”
“No. No. Our network firewall would have blocked that. All right. Just give me a second. Let me look in your cache folder. Deleted or moved items are stored there for emergencies for three days.”
I held my breath as he clicked and flipped through windows on the screen.
“Hmm…”
“It’s not there, is it?” I asked impatiently.
Oh God, what am I going to do?
“Sorry, miss. Looks like your cache was cleared an hour ago. I’m afraid it’s all gone.”
I groaned in frustration. I wasn't going to get upset with this man. It wasn't his fault. But as an utter sense of defeat came over me, tears began forming in my eyes. All my months of research. All my years of hard work. Gone. I tried to hide my sniffles and tears, but my voice broke when I spoke again. “Okay. Thank you, sir. I appreciate your help.”
I started collecting my belongings, my hands shaking with emotion as my mind raced. What was I going to do? I’d have to talk to my professors and advisors right away. I was going to have to drop my thesis class and cancel my graduation. I wiped away a tear that escaped my eye as I pushed my chair in and turned to leave.
“Wait. Miss?” Isaac stopped me.
“Yes?” I turned and asked in a small voice. My heart leapt with hope for one small second. Maybe he found something.
“Have you e-mailed your files to anyone recently while connected to the university's network?”
Defeat again. “No. I usually only connect to access my cloud,” I said sadly. “Oh wait! I was connected to the university library’s proxy server when I e-mailed my thesis and research data to my advisor last week. At least, I think I e-mailed it.”
“You think you e-mailed it?” Isaac asked, looking at me like I was below average intelligence.
“No. I know I did, but my advisor said he never received it.”
Isaac furrowed his brows. “Weird. Okay, let me check.”
Again his fingers expertly flew over the keyboard while clicking on icons and files with the mouse. I had to force myself to breathe. Anticipation bubbled in my stomach, and I clutched the strap of my laptop case so tight my knuckles hurt.
Please be there. Please be there. Please be t
here.
“Jillian Thompson. You are one lucky lady,” he said with a smile. “The web cache for the library's proxy server is only cleared once a month. I can see every e-mail that you sent or received while you were connected to the library.”
Relief washed through me, and I went weak in the knees. Oh, thank God. My hand shook as I covered my lips with my fingers and squeezed my eyes shut. “Ooh, thank you. Thank you so much.” I sniffled. “I literally did not know what I was going to do.” I wanted to hug him.
He smiled and chuckled. “I’m glad I could help. I’m going to reset your passwords and resave it in your cloud. I’m also going to e-mail it to you right now and—” He opened a drawer hidden under the table, pulled out a small device, and inserted it into the USB port. “I’m going to save it to this flash drive for you to keep.”
“Thank you. Thank you,” I repeated myself, not knowing how else to express my extreme gratitude to this man.
“You said your professor never got the e-mail you sent?” Isaac asked as he reset my cloud security.
“My advisor, Dr. Rugger. Yeah, the e-mail was in my sent folder, but he said he never got it.”
He began quizzing me about my Internet activity. I assured him I hadn’t downloaded any weird files or opened any corrupted e-mails that may have contained viruses. He seemed as puzzled as I was over how I could have gotten a virus and where my e-mail to my advisor had gone.
“It’s weird,” he said. “I’m going to look into it. Can’t promise I’ll find anything. I’m supposed to be an expert at computers, and I hate to admit it, but sometimes I think these things have gremlins in them. Makes them do some weird things.”
“Honestly, I don’t care how it happened. I’m just so glad you managed to recover it!”
“Happy to help,” he said with a proud smile. He should be proud of himself. I thought I was sunk. I was definitely going to have to think of something to send him as a thank you.
~~~~~~~~
Night had fallen by the time I left the computer department, carrying my useless laptop and precious new flash drive. Campus seemed empty, or at least this building was. Students were either in class or tucked away studying.
I walked down the long hallway to the stairwell at the end, distracted by thoughts of my thesis. The echoing sound of a metal door closing behind me pulled me back into the present. As I reached the stairs, I turned to see who was behind me.
The man from the school parking lot stood at the end. Even though it was night and we were inside, he was wearing sunglasses and had the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head. He held his phone up to his ear and was turned slightly as if he was trying to make it look like he wasn’t watching me. I was sure it was the same man as before though. His plain gray sweatshirt gave him away. Most sweatshirts had logos or words on the front. This man’s didn’t, and it made him stand out.
I tried to think through the rising panic inside me. Remain calm. Act natural until you can get to help. Think!
I quickly sized him up while walking to the drinking fountain next to the stairs. Buying myself some time to make a plan, I bent down and took a long drink while keeping the man in my sights.
I knew I wouldn’t be able to outrun this man if he chased me. I was no athlete, and he was clearly fit and strong. If the grounds outside were empty, I would have a slim chance of making it to my car. I’d have to hide and call for help.
Goddammit! Why didn’t I listen to Lincoln?
I nonchalantly wiped my mouth with the back of my hand before slowly walking to the staircase, like prey trying not to attract a predator’s attention. When I reached the landing I was able to look back at the hallway I had just come from in the reflection of the giant window in the stairwell.
The man no longer had his phone to his ear. He was unmistakably watching me descend the stairs. Terror and panic rose up inside me, and when I reached the next floor I couldn’t stop myself from breaking into a run. The flight-or-fight instinct kicked in, and I involuntarily decided flight was my best shot at survival.
My hands slapped against the metal doors as I quickly pushed through them, and I mentally kicked myself when they slammed closed behind me. The noise gave me away, and the man would know I stopped on this floor instead of continuing down the stairs to the ground level.
Be smarter! My brain screamed at me as I scanned this floor. Offices lined the long hallway, and the overhead lights were dimmed. The chances of finding a place to hide were not good, but I tried the first office door anyway. Locked. The next one and a third one were the same.
The elevator! I ran to the silver doors and frantically jabbed my finger repeatedly on the down button, willing the doors to open. I could hide inside the elevator and hit the stop button and call for help. The elevator dinged, and triumph soared through me. I looked down the hallway past the empty locked offices and saw the man watching me through his sunglasses from the stairwell.
The doors of the elevator opened slowly, and I darted inside before they were fully opened. I held down the button to close the doors, praying the man wouldn’t make it to me before I was sealed inside the elevator alone.
When the doors finally returned to their closed position, I exhaled a long breath of relief and hit the red emergency stop button. An alarm bell rang and a voice came from a small speaker box.
“This is campus security. Do you need help?”
“Yes!” I cried. “There’s a man chasing me. I locked myself in the elevator, but I need help.”
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Someone was pounding on the elevator doors.
“Jillian!”
“Oh God,” I said into the speaker. “He’s not going away.”
“Okay, ma’am. We have officers responding to Samson Hall. What floor are you on?”
I answered her question and gave her a description of the man. The pounding stopped, and I wondered if he could hear me over the elevator alarm.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and Lincoln’s ringtone filled the elevator, but I didn’t answer. What could I tell him?
“Ma’am? Is he still pounding on the door?”
“No. I don’t know where he went.”
“Okay. Officers are a minute away.”
“Please hurry.” I knew I was safe now, but I didn’t want this man to get away. He could be the one who had slipped the GHB in my drink. The one who slashed my tires. The one who broke Lincoln’s window. He was so close. I wanted him caught.
Lincoln’s ringtone filled the elevator again, but again I didn’t answer. I slumped down on the floor and waited to be rescued, feeling stupid and embarrassed over the situation.
My phone chimed with a text message.
“WHERE R U! ANSWER UR PHONE!” Lincoln sent.
I set my phone down and hid my face in my hands. He must have known I went out alone. He was going to be so mad at me, especially when he heard about this.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“This is campus security! Are you okay in there?”
“Yes! I’m fine!” I shouted back. “Did you find the man?”
“No. We’re searching the building but you can come out now.”
I stood up and moved to the panel. I twisted the knob for the stop button, and it popped out, silencing the alarm. The elevator immediately started moving.
“Oh no! I’m going down to the ground level!” I shouted through the doors at the officer, but I didn’t know if he heard me.
The elevator moved quickly, and within seconds it had stopped and the doors opened on the ground level, revealing the man in the gray sweatshirt standing in front of the elevator doors. Campus police were nowhere to be seen.
“What’s going on?” the voice said over the elevator speaker box.
The man and I stared at each other, neither of us moving or answering the elevator voice. It almost seemed like he was waiting for me to do something or try to escape, but I was rooted in place. Maybe if I waited long enough the elevator doors would clos
e again, and the man would lose his opportunity.
Suddenly a blue blur appeared on the left side of the open elevator doors and tackled my stalker. Blue and gray collided and twisted to the floor. Two more security officers jumped on the man, and before I knew it, he was lying on his stomach on the floor with his hands cuffed behind his back.
“Are you all right?” one of the officers asked me.
“Yes. Yes. I’m fine,” I said quietly as I wiped away two tears that rolled down my cheeks.
One of the officers ushered me out of the elevator and stood me next to the lump on the ground. Another rolled the man over to his side and removed his hood and sunglasses. I couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes,” I admitted, utterly flabbergasted. “He was my driver. Brody… Brody something or other. I can’t remember.”
An officer crouched down and patted Brody’s pockets. She pulled out his wallet. “Brody Gibbons,” the female officer read the name on his license.
I nodded my head. “Yes. That’s right. I remember now.”
The officer who was searching Brody’s pockets pulled up his sweatshirt and revealed the shiny black handle of a gun poking out of a waistband holster at the small of his back.
I could feel the blood rushing from my face. He really was trying to kill me. I couldn’t believe it.
Brody turned his face to the side. “I have a concealed carry license in my wallet. The gun is licensed and legal.”
“We’ll see about that,” one of the officers said as he pulled the gun out of Brody’s holster. He clicked a button on the side and unloaded the magazine into his hand before pulling back on the top of the gun and ejecting the last bullet. “It was loaded. One in the chamber.”
The officer handed the gun and bullets off to another officer before grabbing the front of Brody’s gray sweatshirt and pulling him to his feet. “Why were you chasing her?”
