Countdown

by Michelle Rowen

out before it was too late. He removed my implant and told

  me to run. I did. That was Jonathan.”

  “What happened then?” I asked.

  “I’ve been in hiding ever since. I know Countdown is a big

  secret. I knew I’d learned too much for my own good. My

  father died in a car crash a week later.” Pain shadowed his expression. “I know Gareth Ellis arranged for his death, but I

  don’t have any proof. That’s what this folder is. It’s research.

  I know about the game, the levels, how they select competitors. I know about the implant linking.” He shook his head.

  “You don’t know what the show’s like now. It’s hell.” “We do know,” Rogan said. “We’ve been playing it for

  three days against our will.”

  Joe’s mouth fell open, and then he swore under his breath.

  “If that’s true, then how did you get here?”

  A f lash of everything we’d endured went through my mind,

  and I shivered. “We escaped.”

  Joe’s eyes widened. “You escaped?”

  “Yeah. So, if you have an antivirus,” Rogan said and there

  was a sharp edge of strain in his voice, “then we need it. It

  could be the only way to stop the virus.”

  A door clicked shut as Oliver returned to the room. “What

  are you guys talking about now?”

  I approached him cautiously. “Oliver, I know you’re pissed

  at me. I can understand that. But if you trust me at all, I need

  you to leave here. Go somewhere safe.”

  His brows drew together. “What?”

  “Just take off. Come back here tomorrow or something.” “If you say so.” He tried to smile, but his cheeks twitched

  too much to allow it. And just like Joe, Oliver was now sweating buckets, even though it wasn’t hot in here. “Sure. Okay.

  I’ll go. Um…I’ll leave right now.”

  Why did he sound so nervous? Was it just being around

  Rogan? Or…was it something else?

  I got a really bad feeling it was something else. “What’s wrong with you?” I asked him.

  “Nothing. I’m fine. Never better.”

  I didn’t know if it was my Psi ability kicking in without

  skin-to-skin contact or if it was simply my gut telling me that

  something was desperately wrong here.

  “I’ll see you soon, okay?” he said, turning toward the

  staircase.

  “Yeah, sure. Oliver?”

  When he turned back to me, his gaze guarded and fearful,

  I gave him a tight hug. He stiffened, as if not expecting the

  physical contact, before he relaxed against me.

  Then I slid my fingers into Oliver’s hair at the back of his

  head hoping very hard I wouldn’t find what I was looking for. But there it was.

  Oliver had a freshly installed implant.

  He took a step back from me. “I’m sorry, Kira.” My throat felt thick. “Why are you sorry?”

  The boy was literally trembling now. “I had no idea you had

  anything to do with the game. They hired me on last week—

  thought my computer skills made me an asset to the team. I

  wanted to tell you my great news, but you’ve been avoiding

  me lately. They fitted me with an implant so I could watch.”

  His expression tensed. “And they stationed me in the mall to

  see if you’d try to get me to help you. But you didn’t. You

  ran away. With him.”

  Rogan now stood beside me, his gaze filled with fury.

  “Where did you just go, Oliver? Did you make a call? Did

  you let them know we’re here?”

  He wouldn’t make eye contact with either of us. Then he

  nodded once. “They’ll be here any minute.”

  My chest tightened—a familiar sensation of fight or f light

  I recognized very well by now.

  I was voting for “f light.”

  Another countdown commences.

  “I’m sorry,” Oliver whispered.

  I opened my mouth to say something to him—to scream at him for selling us out—but Rogan took a step toward him first. That was all it took. Oliver staggered back from him and tripped on a wire. He fell and hit his head against the side of

  the computer table, managing to knock himself unconscious. I grabbed Rogan’s tense arm. “What are we supposed to

  do now?”

  “We hope Oliver’s wrong about our time line.” Joe’s eyes had grown very large. “They’re coming here?

  Somebody go up the stairs and lock the damn door.” I didn’t need any more prompting. I thundered up the stairs

  as fast as I could, still favoring my sore ankle, and turned the

  dead bolt.

  When I got back downstairs, Rogan was staring straight at

  Joe. “We need the antivirus and we need it now.” I was certain Joe was ready to run. I was equally certain

  that Rogan wouldn’t let him, but we didn’t have time for a

  physical confrontation. Not here. Not now.

  To my surprise, Joe nodded sharply. He turned and sat

  down heavily in front of his computer and put his fingers on

  the keyboard. “I know it’s around here somewhere. It’s been

  a while, man. I hope I didn’t trash it.”

  “But will an antivirus actually work?” I asked. “I don’t

  know much about computers, but wouldn’t the virus have

  progressed too far for that by now? Besides, it’s not in a computer anymore, it’s in a person.”

  Joe shrugged with one shoulder as he whipped through

  folder after folder, which appeared and disappeared in f lashes

  of light and color. “That’s entirely possible. But the virus isn’t

  really in a person, it’s in an implant inside a person. And that

  implant is directly connected to Ellis Enterprise’s artificial

  intelligence server. If you can get to that server, shove in the antivirus disc, and launch it, then I think you’ll be able to do

  some serious damage.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “We have to put the disc in the

  server itself? We can’t do this remotely—like from here, if you

  can hack into their network?”

  “Unfortunately, no. They’ve totally upgraded their security. If you can’t physically get to the server itself, this has no

  chance of working.”

  Rogan gripped the back of Joe’s chair as the scrolling files

  appeared on screen. “I wish I knew where the A.I. server is

  now. It used to be on the second f loor.”

  “It’s in the sub-basement now,” Joe said. “I walked past it

  during my orientation tour and I’m betting the guy leading

  the tour told me way more than Mr. Ellis would have wanted

  him to on an intro tour of the facilities.”

  “Do you know any more details? Like what room it’s in?”

  I asked.

  “Damn, why can’t I find it?” The files scrolled down the

  screen faster than I could read them. “Where did I put it?” “Joe, which room is it? Do you remember?” I said it louder

  this time. By my estimation, we had less than a minute left

  to get out of here.

  “Yeah, I remember. It’s marked as Mr. Ellis’s office, even

  though I know his real office is on the top f loor. The room has

  a computerized lock that only certain employees can access.

  The only people who were able to get in have a red clearance

  tag, if that helps. I remember that because those tags made

  me think of blood. My blood. And I didn’t want to spill any

  of
it either then or now.”

  Just then I heard a bang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. At the top of the stairs somebody was pounding on the

  outer door.

  They were here.

  “It’s a strong door.” Joe’s voice trembled. “Trust me, paranoia will take you places. Especially dark, well-locked places.

  We have another minute before they can get in.”

  Rogan’s expression was bleak as he met my gaze. Jonathan

  had been certain that if they ever found us, we were dead. “I’ll

  hold them back for as long as I can,” he said. “And you try to

  escape. Maybe I can talk some sense into them.”

  Was he crazy? “I don’t think they’ll be too interested in

  talking. They’ll just kill you.”

  “Don’t be so sure. I have a hunch that my father—or the

  thing possessing him—will want to see me personally one last

  time. He’ll want to find out how we beat the system. I’ll be

  questioned before they kill me.”

  My throat constricted at the thought. “Rogan—” “I found it!” Joe shouted, sounding very relieved. “I just

  need to get it on a disc for you.”

  He opened a drawer next to him and fumbled through its

  contents. He closed his fingers around a small, blue plastic disc

  about the size of a quarter, pushed it into the slot on the side

  of the computer, and clicked a few keys. After another moment he pulled it out and handed it to Rogan.

  “If you can get into that room—and I don’t have any idea

  how you’re going to do that—shove this into the A.I. server.

  If it’s going to work, it’ll work.”

  Rogan studied the disc with a frown. “How will I know

  if it worked?”

  Joe hesitated. “That’s a good question. I figure if it works…

  you’ll still be alive.”

  “Great,” Rogan said drily. He eyed me, and looked at Joe

  again. “Is there another way out of here?”

  Joe swallowed hard. “Unfortunately, no. But now that I

  think of it, that would have been a really good idea. Escape

  routes, and all that.”

  Crap.

  The pounding on the front door increased. We were cornered with only one way out.

  Rogan looked at the small disc. Then he eyed me. “Can

  you do me a favor?”

  “Sure. Anything.”

  “Hide this for me until later?”

  He handed me the disc and I looked at it. “Where should

  I hide it?”

  “Put it in your bra,” Joe suggested, and then blanched at

  a look from Rogan. “I mean, I can think of a couple other

  places, but, uh, a bra’s probably your best bet.”

  I didn’t hesitate. I tucked it into my bra, glad I’d decided

  to keep wearing the one that had gone with my Countdown

  costume.

  “I’ll want that back.” Rogan’s gaze met mine. “Soon.” “Ask me nicely and it’s all yours.”

  The edge of a smile appeared on his lips. “I just thought of

  something hilarious.”

  “Oh, do share. I could use a laugh right about now.” “Before—I had no idea how I was going to break into Ellis

  Enterprises without getting caught. Security’s tight.” “And now?”

  “I think we’re about to have an in.”

  “Great. Just try not to die first.”

  “I’m going to try real hard.”

  Rogan took my hand in his and squeezed it.

  Then several sets of feet pounded down the staircase as Gareth Ellis’s men came for us.

  ELLIS ENTERPRISES WAS A FIFTY-STORY BUILDing made of silver and glass that sat in an otherwise empty section of the city like a cold, sparkling gem under the over

  cast skies.

  Rogan was seated next to me in the back of the SUV. Both

  of our hands were bound behind our backs. He was currently

  unconscious. He’d put up a pretty good fight against the five

  men in white lab coats who’d come for us. They’d easily disarmed him of his gun and then knocked him out. Frankly, I

  was surprised they hadn’t killed us on the spot.

  I was sure it was only a matter of time.

  Joe hadn’t gotten off so lucky. He’d tried to run, to push

  past the men as they swarmed into the room. He’d gotten a

  bullet in his back for the effort.

  They hadn’t killed Oliver. He didn’t accompany us in the

  car, so I had no idea what had happened to him. Frankly, I

  didn’t care anymore. Maybe he’d get a reward. I guess everyone was out for himself. Not that this was news to me. I tried not to relive the experience at Joe’s gaming den and instead focused my attention on the shiny building—which, let’s be honest here, was the place I would likely die today, or tomorrow…definitely sometime soon. I didn’t have much hope of getting out of this in one piece. Things had gone way

  too far for that.

  I tried to imagine a younger Rogan, high on whatever drug

  he’d just taken, showing up to his job at this building—the

  son of the billionaire CEO. The Rogan Ellis I knew wasn’t a

  spoiled rich kid with a huge allowance to spend on frivolous

  things to relieve his boredom. I didn’t think I would have

  liked the old Rogan.

  In fact, I’m quite sure I would have hated him. Then again, the old Rogan probably wouldn’t have looked

  twice at a girl like me. At the end of the day, I was just a street

  thief who happened to steal the wrong guy’s wallet. Even back

  when my father worked for the university, I’d never even been

  inside a building as fancy as this one.

  But that’s exactly where they were taking us.

  I tried to concentrate on the sound of my breathing. Anything to keep myself from thinking about how bad this could

  all go. As Rogan said, he hadn’t been sure how we were going

  to get inside the building in the first place. The security was

  tight. Super tight. We had to go through two checkpoints and

  a manned security station before coming within fifty feet of

  the place.

  The car rolled to a stop next to a black side door. A man in

  a white coat sprayed something in Rogan’s face, and he woke

  with a jerk. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense until

  he saw me, and our gazes met and held.

  “Are you okay?” were his first gruff words. I should have

  been asking him the same question.

  “No. Actually, we’re both royally screwed.”

  He smirked. “I think you’re probably right.”

  “Shut up,” a White Coat snapped.

  I glared at him but stopped myself from telling him to screw

  off. We were in enough hot water as it was. Wouldn’t want

  to throw more wood on the fire beneath us.

  The back door of the car opened, and both of us were

  yanked out of our seats. All the White Coats, whom I had

  originally assumed were scientists of some sort, were carrying

  weapons. Scientists didn’t pack heat. These were hired thugs

  with a strict uniform policy.

  “Move,” they instructed us.

  We moved. Through the door and into the cool interior

  of the building.

  “We’re in,” Rogan said. “Should we celebrate now? Or

  wait until later?”

  I gave him a look. How could he joke at a time like this? But

  the mild humor in his voice didn’t reach his serious expression. “Shut up.” One of the men jammed the butt
of his gun into

  Rogan’s back as we walked down a long bare hallway. The

  white-tiled f loor squeaked against my boots. “Don’t make

  me tell you again.”

  My steps slowed as I saw who was waiting for us at the end

  of the hallway.

  It was Gareth Ellis. He stood there next to an open elevator with his feet spread, his arms folded across the front of his

  expensive, black business suit. His blue-green eyes narrowed

  at our approach.

  “Welcome back, son,” he said as Rogan was shoved into

  the elevator in front of me so hard that he hit the wall with

  his shoulder.

  “Son?” Rogan repeated through clenched teeth. “Is that

  what I am to you? Are you sure about that?”

  “I am.” Gareth’s mouth twisted into a strange smile, and

  he glanced at me. “Why? Have you heard differently from

  someone?”

  A shove at my back made me stagger into the elevator, as

  well. Four men in white coats pressed into the elevator with us,

  and then Gareth stepped inside and the doors closed. Claustrophobia hadn’t been one of my fears in the past, but I strongly

  considered letting it join the growing list.

  We’d entered on the ground level, but the elevator took us

  down even farther.

  Joe had told us that the room with the artificial intelligence

  server was in the sub-basement. These bastards had no idea

  they were taking us closer to where we needed to be. The elevator lurched to a stop, and the doors opened on a

  whole lot of white.

  Gareth soundlessly stepped off the lift, and I felt a firm grip

  circle my upper arm, crushing enough to bruise. One of the

  men pulled me along another hallway.

  All white. Everything was white and smelled of lemonscented antiseptic.

  Never had pristine cleanliness looked more like death to me. “Where are you taking us?” Rogan demanded. The White Coat whacked his gun against the back of Rogan’s head. Not hard enough to knock him out, but definitely

  hard enough to hurt.

  Rogan turned a glare of uncensored fury on the man. “Do

  that again and I’ll shove that gun up your ass and pull the

  trigger.”

  The man laughed, obviously unthreatened. “Yeah, sure you

  will. Keep walking.”

  Joe had said that he hadn’t wanted to work here. Despite

  the perks, of which I was sure there were many, he couldn’t

  stomach the sadistic nature of being controlled by a walking,