by Jeff Sampson
“Let me go!” Tracie shouted. With a yank, she pulled herself free from Dalton’s grasp. Furious, she put her hands on her hips and glared at me. “And you. Of course it’s you, too. I never should have come here. I told you this morning and I’m telling you now”—she pointed a finger between me and Dalton—“the both of you: Leave. Me. Alone.” With a curt sigh, she brushed her purple skirt smooth, then adjusted her matching headband. “I’m going to make my rounds here, put in the face time that’s expected of me. And then I’m going home. I want nothing to do with this.”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and stormed off down the dark hallway.
I looked up at Dalton. “What was that?”
He shrugged and looked down at his shoes, sheepish. “Sorry. You said you talked to her. I thought she’d be—She’d want to work with us.”
I sighed. “She’ll come around. I hope. Come in, though, before someone sees us.”
Dalton brushed past me, and I quietly shut the door once more. I turned to find him looking aimlessly about the dimly lit room while Spencer absentmindedly spun in the office chair.
I rounded the desk, crouched on my knees next to Spencer, and leaned onto the desk. “So, start with the computer, right?”
“Yes!” Spencer said, stopping his spinning. He scooted the chair closer to the desk and waved the wireless mouse. The computer monitor, previously blank, clicked on, casting our faces in a glow of blue. The computer’s desktop background was plain black and sparse of icons, the task bars a steely gray. Mr. McKinney definitely had a specific aesthetic.
Dalton came to the other side of Spencer, and the two of us watched as Spencer clicked open folders and files, looking for anything that had anything to do with BioZenith. There were tax documents, letters to family members, a schedule much like the one I’d seen on Dalton’s computer. No matter what he clicked, though, it proved to be completely … normal. The same boring stuff anyone’s dad would keep on his computer. The most recent program opened was solitaire.
“So there’s nothing, then?” I said after many minutes of this, exasperated. “Dalton stole his dad’s keycard and we snuck in here for nothing?”
Dalton stood up, peering around the room. “He comes in here to work all the time, though. He says he does, anyway. He has to have work files here.”
“Unless he has them on an external drive,” Spencer said, still clicking through the files. “That’s what I’d do if—” He stopped midsentence, breaking into laughter.
“What is it?” I said, leaning forward to look at the screen.
“Man, I totally found your dad’s porn file!” Spencer said. “Oh wow, he must really like his alone time if he put a keycard lock on his door just for that.” The mouse icon hovered over a video file, as though Spencer intended to double-click.
Blushing, I leaned forward and pressed the power button on the monitor. “Um, no. We’re not here for that.”
Spencer laughed again. “Can you imagine Mr. McKinney all—”
“Dude!” Dalton said.
Ducking his head, Spencer said, “Sorry.”
I refused to believe that steely Mr. McKinney spent all his free time locked in his office, playing solitaire and … well, playing solitaire. Of course he wouldn’t leave super-top-secret files about his shady company lying on the desktop of his password-less computer, labeled, “Werewolf mysteries solved! Click here!” Either he had those hidden somewhere deep in his regular PC, or we were looking in the wrong place. Or maybe everything was on an external drive, but wouldn’t we see some of those files in his recent history, even if they obviously couldn’t be opened?
I stood up and began to pace behind Spencer and the desk chair. I scanned the shelves again, then the top of Mr. McKinney’s desk, wondering if maybe he had books with hidden compartments like something out of an “old lady solving mysteries with her cat, Snookums Smith-Plasse” type book.
And as I paced again and again behind the chair, I heard a faint buzzing. At first I thought it was one of the pale fluorescents, but there was no light next to me. I stopped and looked at the wall—or, more specifically, at the abstract painting in front of me.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, I hope this is what I think it is.”
Spencer spun the chair to face me, and Dalton leaned back against the desk.
“What is it?” Dalton asked.
I studied the edges of the black frame, looking for some sort of button to press. I didn’t see or feel anything, so instead I grabbed the frame by either end and gently pulled forward.
With a hiss, the painting pulled free from the wall. I let go and, of its own accord, it lowered itself to rest against the wall below, opening like some futuristic panel from the deck of the Enterprise. Behind it, embedded in the wall, was a glass screen.
“No way,” Spencer said.
“I can’t believe that worked,” I said, shaking my head. “We really are trapped inside a movie right now, aren’t we?”
“I wonder if we can get those realistic-looking masks Tom Cruise wore, too?” Spencer asked me.
Dalton didn’t say anything. He leaned in close to the blank screen, then raised a finger and touched the corner.
And the screen buzzed to life.
It was like a giant version of Mr. McKinney’s desktop background—plain black, with giant steel-colored icons hovering in the center of the screen. One appeared to be for companywide communications, another for collected information on Mr. McKinney’s current project at work, one for archives, and others that weren’t labeled at all.
We all gaped for a moment before Spencer got to his feet and tried to tap an icon. Immediately everything on-screen faded, as though a shadow had been cast in front of it. A password box appeared, followed by letter and number keys beneath it.
“Oh, this is sweet,” Spencer said. “It’s like a giant iPad. I have got to get me one of these.”
“A password,” I said. “Okay, so this is getting somewhere.” I turned to Dalton. “You, uh, wouldn’t happen to know your dad’s password, would you?”
Dalton scratched his head, right next to the bandage. He shrugged, then tapped the screen, typing in some letters. He hit enter, and the screen beeped at us. The password field went blank.
“Nope, that’s not it.”
“What did you put in?” Spencer asked.
“I tried ‘password.’”
Spencer laughed at that, then began digging in the pockets of his jacket, first the right and then the left, as though he couldn’t remember where he’d put whatever he was searching for. “That actually isn’t a bad guess. You’d be surprised how many people actually do put that as their password. They’re the ones who get their identities stolen.” He unzipped his jacket and reached into a pocket inside. “Here we go.”
Producing a thumb drive, he bent forward and studied the wall just beneath the screen. I could see faint lines that would have been hidden by the painting. Spencer pressed against the wall and a little panel clicked open, revealing a bunch of computer ports.
“Exactly where I would have put ’em,” he said, mostly to himself. He scanned the various ports, then found the little rectangle USB one. He stuck his thumb drive in.
“What’s that going to do?” Dalton asked. “Don’t destroy my father’s computer, man. He can’t know we were in here.”
“No worries at all, my friend,” Spencer said. “This is just a little program I like to use when there’s a password in the way. Watch.”
He pressed a button on the top of the thumb drive. It flashed a light—and the giant screen went blank. A prompt blinked in the top corner, and then plain computery white text started to scroll on the screen, just like when you boot up a PC. I had absolutely no idea what was going on, just that the words flashed by so fast I couldn’t read them.
Then, the main screen appeared once more, icons and all. We didn’t have to touch the screen this time for the password prompt to appear. Without typing a single thing, i
t populated itself with a string of fifteen little asterisks, then disappeared.
I reached forward and touched the nearest icon—the interoffice mailbox—and dragged it with my finger to the bottom of the screen. I let go and it flew back into its original position. We were in.
I could help but smile at Spencer. “You really are a programmer, aren’t you?”
Dalton was shaking his head, similarly grinning. “I had no idea you were into all this stuff, man.”
Spencer didn’t look at either of us. He pressed on the far right icon, opening up what looked to be a contact list of employees. Nothing much to see there, so he closed it.
“Yeah, it’s been my hobby forever,” he said. “When I can focus myself, anyway. I usually have a bunch of different programs I’m working on at once that I jump between. I—”
He reached out and grabbed another icon, this one about Mr. McKinney’s current project. It opened up a new screen with more icons. Spencer began to touch them, his eyes flicking back and forth over the screen.
“I … what?” I asked him.
He blinked, then looked at me. “Oh, I was just going to say I didn’t make my password breaker until last week, when I changed at night. It was pretty sweet having so much focus. Too bad it leads to being a werewolf and I have to make myself sleep.”
“I’m better at night, too,” Dalton said, peering close to the screen and reading the heavily science-talk captions of each icon. “That’s what I told Emily and why I said not to take sleeping pills.”
“What?” Spencer said. He looked between me and Dalton, then back to me. “What does he mean, Emily? Have you guys not been taking the sleeping pills?”
“I, uh…” I stammered.
Dalton stiffened. “Oh. Oops. Sorry, Emily.”
“Man, I knew it,” Spencer said. He plopped back down in the leather chair and crossed his arms. “I could just tell you guys had some secret. What, did you change and go clubbing or something?”
“There was a drag race,” Dalton muttered.
I sighed. “No, last night we went to look at BioZenith. It wasn’t planned, it just happened. I meant to tell you, but…”
“So I was making myself go to bed at eight p.m. like a five-year-old, and you guys went to find out more without me,” Spencer grumbled. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“I didn’t want you to get hurt,” I said.
Grimacing, Spencer looked up at me. “You didn’t want me to get hurt? You do know I have the same superpowers you do, right? Why do you get to decide what’s too dangerous for me, and not dangerous to you or jock boy here?”
Because I’m your alpha, a voice inside me snarled. Whether the voice was nighttime or werewolf me, I couldn’t be sure.
Obviously I couldn’t say that. I’m not sure how they’d take me telling them I was, indeed, their boss. Or at least that’s what my wolf side told me.
I kneeled down beside the chair and placed my hands on Spencer’s arms. “You’re right,” I said. “I should have told you. It’s just, we didn’t really get much done, and I didn’t want you to be…”
He arched an eyebrow. “Jealous? You didn’t want me to be jealous, huh?” And though he tried to hide it, his lips cracked into a tiny smile.
Dalton groaned. “So fine, neither of you take sleeping pills. I’m not. Let’s go back to BioZenith again or something. If Spence can hack this computer, he probably can do it there, too.”
“BioZenith or not, I’m not taking the sleeping pills again, Em Dub,” Spencer said. “I don’t like waking up all woozy from those pills, and I don’t like not being the nighttime version of me. If you guys get to run around and do crazy stuff, I… Well, I want to, too.”
I stood up. “Fine,” I said. “Fine, none of us is taking sleeping pills today. But only because we’re going to go to BioZenith and finally get inside.” I met Dalton’s eyes. “No detours.”
“Fine with me,” Dalton said.
Spencer popped back up to his feet. “Sweet.” Producing another thumb drive from his pocket, this one on a lanyard, he went back to stand before the screen. “I’m going to start transferring stuff onto this,” he said as he plugged it into another USB port. “Then we can go over it tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
I took Spencer’s place in the leather chair, semi-watching as he went about moving the files. But I wasn’t entirely focused on our little break-in anymore. This was nothing compared to BioZenith, with its armed guards and who knew what else. I thought about Megan at the party, the shadowmen looming around every corner, my uncertainty about how all my changes worked. I shoved those thoughts down, though, focusing: This was it. No more playing around. I wanted to find out all there was to know about BioZenith and about why I was created. Only then could any of this begin to make sense.
I watched the clock tick in the corner of the giant screen, ever closer to eight o’clock. Just as Spencer finished the file transfer and removed both his thumb drives, a shudder rushed through me and I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, I was back. I took off my glasses and shoved them in my pocket, because I didn’t need them anymore. And I turned to Spencer and Dalton and said, “Let’s go get some answers, boys.”
Internal Document #4
The Vesper Company
“Envisioning the brightest stars, to lead our way.”
- Internal Document, Do Not Reproduce -
Details of Video Footage Recorded Oct. 31, 2010,
Part 4
21:10:29 PST—Detention Block, Sublevel Sector D
Vesper 1(B) and Vesper 2.1(A), having manually unlocked the access doors to the lower level of Sector D (perhaps better password protocol is necessary?), Agreed. Bring it up next meeting.—MH have made their way to the detention block. Previously, Vesper 1(B) was held here, along with the other captured Deviants. All but Branch B’s Vesper 4 had been moved by this time stamp.
Vesper 2.1(A) stands in front of the door to Detention Cell 7 and raises a single hand, and the door buckles inward and opens.
21:11:24 PST—Detention Cell 7
One subject is in the room, identified as:
—Tracie Townsend, Branch B’s Vesper 4 (designated “Deviant”)
Black female, 16 years old
Vesper 4(B) wears a gray jumpsuit and sits at a table in the center of the room. Printer paper is stacked neatly and straight next to her, and she is drawing on one sheet with a crayon. She does not seem to realize that the door has opened and that she has visitors.
VESPER 1(B): Tracie! We’re here to rescue you.
Vesper 4(B) sets down the crayon and, blinking, looks up at the two other girls.
VESPER 4(B): Oh. It’s you.
Vesper 1(B) goes to Vesper 4(B)’s side, crouches beside her chair, and places a hand on the girl’s arm. Unlike Vesper 1(B), Vesper 4(B) has not been chained to her table.
VESPER 1(B): We’re breaking out of here, Tracie. All of us. We found you, but we also need to find—
VESPER 4(B): Evan?
VESPER 2.1(A): We know where Evan is. And there’s no way we’re going there, at least not tonight.
VESPER 4(B): Ah. Then I do know where we need to go.
Vesper 4(B) stands up and straightens her already straightened stack of papers, then places the crayon she was using back in its plastic tub. That done, she and the other two Deviants exit Detention Cell 7.
Part 4 of Relevant Video Footage Concluded
16
JUST A SLIGHT DISAGREEMENT BETWEEN GIRLS
I oversaw Dalton and Spencer as they made sure everything was back in place. Dalton was the same as he’d been both nights out: jittery and constantly bobbing as though moving to a beat only he could hear. Spencer’s change, however, was brand-new to me. He darted about quickly, like a lizard, efficiently closing the port panel, logging out of the screen computer with a fly of his fingers, and then putting the painting back in place with another mechanical hiss. And then he was sitting up perfe
ctly straight at the desk, clicking nonstop, making sure not a single thing was out of place on the computer’s desktop. His eyes flicked back and forth, laser focused.
“You got everything, Dalton?” I asked. “We need to move. I’m tired of this place.”
He was busy staring at a picture on one of the shelves, his hand against his thigh, constantly slapping out a rhythm. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m ready.”
Spencer’s hand flew up in the air even as the other continued to dart the mouse around, still clicking. Between his fingers was the keycard. Not looking up, he said, “Not done yet, man. Take this.”
Dalton snatched the keycard from Spencer’s fingers, then came to my side. With a few more clicks, Spencer jumped to his feet and put the desk chair back in the exact position we’d found it.
“You cover all our tracks, Tom Cruise?” I asked him.
He rolled his eyes. “Of course. Here.” He came forward and strung the thumb drive with the lanyard around my neck. “You keep this one. I’ll keep the other. My program automatically logs all system checks and passwords when it runs, so if something happens to one of us, we either have a way to get at the information again or you’ll already have it all.”
“Smart guy,” I said, shoving the drive down the front of my shirt. “But nothing is going to happen to us.”
“Hell no, of course nothing will,” Dalton said. He put his arms over my shoulders and leaned on me, grinning down at Spencer. “She took some guy out in a chokehold last night. It was badass, man.”
Spencer sighed. “I know what she can do, Dalton, I was there when we took down Dr. Elliott.” To me, he said, “We should leave now. The wolf change generally happens two hours, thirty-seven minutes, and fourteen seconds after the initial phase.”
“Well, that’s specific,” I said, pulling myself out from underneath Dalton.
Spencer shrugged. “I calculated the averages based on the nights I fully changed.”
“That’s good to know. Follow me.”
We exited the office and let the door close with another thunk of its lock behind us. I led the way, head high, shoulders back, down the hallway, with my two soldiers behind me. Soldiers! Ha. I felt like the leader of some sort of hyper-trained SWAT team.
