by Baron Sord
Dad’s eyes were huge. “We’ll pay them. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll pay them the money and get Emily back.”
I sighed. “I don’t know about you, but I’ve only got about 10 grand saved up.”
“I’ve got a little over 7,” Dad said hopefully.
“What about you, Jay?” I stared at him.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we pay them, how do we even know they’ll let Emily go? We need to find her. Which is what I was doing in Reternity when you—”
I barked, “You don’t have any money, do you? Broke little Jason who sponges off Dad like a vampire can’t pay because he wastes his life playing a stupid game! I knew, it Jason. I knew you—”
Jason glared at me. “You have no idea what you’re talking about, Low.”
“Oh yeah?” I snorted. “How much money do you have, Richie Rich?”
“80 grand.”
“Hah. No, really. How much? 80 bucks? 80 cents?”
“Eighty. Thousand. Dollars.”
“No you don’t,” I laughed.
Dad muttered, “Yes he does.”
I laughed again. “What?”
Dad said, “Who do you think pays for all that organic food I eat?”
“Your girlfriend Nicole?”
Dad shook his head.
I glared at Jason. “Him?”
“Yes, me. Dick,” Jason spat.
“Boys, play nice.”
“Where the hell did you get 80 grand, Jay? You turning tricks again?” I knew it wasn’t true, but I was too pissed at him to care at this point.
He glowered, “No, dumbass. From DreamStreaming.”
“From what?”
“I’m a DreamStreamer.”
“What’s that?” I shot Dad a look like, Can you believe his lies?
Dad arched his eyebrows and glanced at Jason. “Tell him.”
Jason huffed a huge sigh. “I livestream my Reternity quests. It’s called DreamStreaming. I have a channel on DreamStream.com. I get paid. I have sponsors. And fans. About 800,000 of them.”
“What, like on Twitch?”
“No, not like Twitch. You have to have an RO account and a NeuraLink headset to watch. Then you can relive what I do in FIVR.”
“Bullshit.”
Dad said, “It’s true, Logan. Your brother is a minor star in the world of Reternity Online.”
“Not so minor,” Jason said under his breath.
“Huh?” I wasn’t buying it.
Jason smirked victoriously. His face said, Fuck you very much.
I shook my head. “This is for real?”
They both nodded.
“Okay,” I sighed, “I’m not saying I believe you yet, but if we really had, what, 97K? That’s a huge chunk of the ransom. Do you think the kidnappers would take that? Or could we round up another 53K by tonight? Oh, wait. How much is the exchange rate for Bitcoins? You can’t buy them for free, right?”
Jason said, “Usually between 0.5% and 1%.”
“So another grand and a half. Maybe 55 total. We can handle that, right?” Now I was in denial, because I didn’t know anybody who had that much cash handy except my bosses Paulie and Sal, the two brothers who owned Opal. But their loans came with very high interest. Leg-breakingly high.
Dad was crying again. He muttered, “Why did they take my baby girl?”
I sighed. “I don’t know, Dad. Nobody knows. The question is, do we pay them off or do I fly to Thailand and hook up with this Ryder dude and go looking for her myself?”
“Before you do that,” Jason said. “We need proof she’s still alive.”
“She’s alive,” Dad pleaded to nobody.
“Yeah,” Jason nodded, trying to stay optimistic. “We need proof and they need to send us video of her talking to the camera and holding up her phone with today’s date.”
“They can fake that,” I said. “Hack the phone and change the date.”
“So find a news story that just happened this morning. Have her hold up CNN.com or something with today’s headline in the video.”
“Good idea.” As angry as I was at Jason, I was glad he was helping. He was smart and could think quick on his feet. “Wait, can’t they just Photoshop a news article onto a phone in the video?”
“Yes, but they’d have to use Adobe Premiere or something.”
“Shit,” I hissed.
“Don’t worry. I can hack some video analysis AIs that’ll be able to tell if it’s faked. May take a few hours to run the video through the system, but we’ll know for sure.”
I stared at my hacker genius brother, impressed. “Okay, we’ll do that.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Dad said, “Tell them to ask Emily where Mr. Wiggles was buried.”
“Her goldfish?” Jason said. “Didn’t we flush him down the toilet when Emily was like 5?”
“Yup,” I grinned, remembering the day we all stood around the toilet because Emily insisted he be buried at sea.
“Tell them to ask her about Mr. Wiggles,” Dad insisted.
I said, “Great idea, Dad. I’ll send them an email right now.”
Jason said, “Be vague. Just say we have the money. We’ll get to our demands after we hear back.”
“Good plan. Do you get a bump to your tactics skill level for that?”
Jason smiled, “I’m telling you, Low, the game’s addicting.”
“Don’t remind me,” I grumbled as I thumbed an email on my phone and sent it.
=============
From: Logan Byrne
To: Emily Byrne
<[email protected]>
Subject: Re: Re: Re: i love you!
I have your money. Where’s Emily?
=============
My phone dinged 5 minutes later.
Jason said, “That them?”
“Yeah. They didn’t waste any time, did they?”
“They want their hundred-fifty grand,” Jason scowled. “What’s the email say?”
“It says, ‘Money first. Pay the Bitcoin.’ Then it gives the account number again. That’s it.”
Jason said, “Tell them we’ll give them half after we see video of Emily and half when we get her back alive.”
“What if that makes them angry?” Dad asked, worried. “What if they hurt her?”
I said, “The cops can’t help. The State Department can’t help. What other choice do we have? It’s up to us to save her.”
Jason asked, “Where do we get the other $55K?”
“We’ll find it,” Dad said.
I swallowed hard and said to both of them, “Are we doing this?”
Jason and Dad exchanged a nervous glance before they both nodded.
I sent the following message to the kidnappers:
=============
I need proof she’s okay.
I need to see video of her alive, talking to the camera. She needs to hold up a news website on her phone and show today’s front page headlines. Also, ask her to say where Mr. Wiggles is buried.
I’ll pay you $75,000 after I see the video.
I’ll pay you the other $75,000 after I get her back alive.
=============
I made it sound like it was just me because I didn’t want them getting worried or asking for more money because they thought I had more resources. I didn’t ask where she was because I didn’t want to scare them off.
An hour later, they hadn’t written back.
“What’s taking them so long?” Dad asked.
“Maybe they’re filming the video,” I said hopefully.
Jason sat on the edge of Dad’s bed hunched over, bouncing his knees. “What if it’s taking so long because she’s dead?”
Hearing him say it made me want to puke. It also made me want to knock his ass out. But I didn’t because his eyes were wet with tears. Like me, he was scared shitless she was gone for good, and this was all a waste of time.
Dad fr
owned, “Don’t say that, Jason. Emily is alive. I just know it. My little girl is okay. They’re going to send the video. You’ll see. Emily will talk to us and tell us she’s fine. Just wait.”
—: o o o :—
The steel bars of the prison cell door clattered open.
Emily was lying in a corner on her side, curled in a fetal ball on the cement floor. Her hair hung over her eyes in strings. Earlier that morning, they had hosed her down in another cell, taken away her stolen gold dress, and given her a plain brown shirt and a plain brown skirt that went down to her knees. They also gave her a pair of cheap white flip-flops.
Now, two uniformed male officers walked toward her, holding chains. The squatted beside her and locked steel anklets around her legs.
She didn’t have the energy to resist, so she just lay there and let them. She hadn’t eaten anything in two days. Hadn’t drunk anything either.
They pulled her to her feet.
“Where are you taking me?” Her voice came out in a hoarse whisper.
They didn’t answer.
Although she didn’t have the strength to fight back, she could make them carry her. Emily collapsed in their arms, forcing them to carry her toward the cell door. Her ankle chains jingled jovially across the ground. To her unpleasant surprise, the men released her suddenly and she fell to the floor in a heap. They grabbed her roughly by the wrists and dragged her with her feet trailing out behind her.
Her kneecaps bumped painfully over every seam in the cement.
She barely noticed the pain.
Outside, they sat her in the back of an armored police van with four other female prisoners and slammed the door. Bars covered all the side and back windows and a cage separated the back of the van from the front.
The driver climbed in behind the wheel and started the puttering diesel engine.
Emily grit her teeth and growled as loud as she could manage, “Where are we going?”
“Courthouse,” the driver said without turning to look at her.
Someone slapped the back of the van as it turned out of the police station parking lot and onto the adjoining road.
—: o o o :—
“They said they won’t send us a video until we pay them $40K,” I said 45 minutes later after reading the kidnapper’s newest email on my phone. “Then they want another $35K as soon as they send the video. Or else.”
“Or else what?” Dad asked.
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Assume the worst.”
Jason ran his hands through his hair. “What the hell do we do?”
“We pay them,” Dad said.
Me and Jason stared at him.
He spread his hands, “What else can we do?”
All of us were out of answers.
“I guess I’ll go send them some Bitcoins.” Jason wobbled to his room and fired up the laser projection screen and keyboard on his smart phone. He opened a bunch of windows.
“Do you have Bitcoin wallet or whatever they call it?” I asked.
“Yeah. I get about a quarter of my subscription fees on my DreamStream channel through Bitcoin.”
“Do you have $75K in Bitcoin?”
“Not yet.”
“Shit. How long will it take to transfer from your bank or mine to your wallet? It’s like 3 to 5 days to do the exchange, right?”
“If you use an escrow service. I’m gonna call in a few favors from some of my DreamStream friends. I’ll send them cash in exchange for Bitcoin.”
“Oh.”
“Should we get all 75 now to be safe? Or just get 40?”
Dad said, “All 75.”
We all nodded agreement.
Jason spent almost an hour on Skype3D talking to his gamer friends, transferring money from his bank to theirs, followed by them sending him Bitcoin payments. It was a tense hour because I didn’t know these people and I didn’t know if they were good for their word or not. I felt increasing relief as we watched the total on his Bitcoin wallet climb to $75,738.
Once again, I was impressed with Jason. My little brother was a regular dealmaker when it came to his gamer buddies.
“Nice work, bro,” I said, patting his shoulder.
He smiled, “Do we need more? I have a few grand left.”
“Let’s just start with this.”
Jason opened a blockchain Quick Send window. “Forward me the email with the Bitcoin address.”
I did.
He copied and pasted the long string of characters from the email into his Quick Send window’s To: field.
I said, “Send a test payment first. Like, 37 cents. I’ll email them and ask if they got it.”
He sent it.
Two minutes later they responded, saying they got it and to send the $40,000 or else.
“Okay, this is it,” Jason said and typed $40,000 into the Amount: field. His finger hovered over the Send Payment button on the laser projected screen.
“Fuuuuuuuuck,” I groaned. “Dude, I’ve never even had 40 grand all at one time in my entire life. Props to you for saving that much.”
“Thanks, bro. Are you as nervous as I am?”
“Are you kidding? $40K is a mountain of money.”
“It’s a mountain of my money,” Jason said, looking sick. “Once I press this button, there’s no going back. The money is gone.”
“Remember, it’s for Emily.”
“Yeah. I hope this isn’t a scam.” Jason’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard and pressed the Send Payment button.
A status bar slid to finished in about 4 seconds.
His total amount of Bitcoins instantly dropped from $75,738 to $35,738.
“It’s gone,” Jason said.
“Do you need a puke bucket? Because I sure do.”
Dad hollered from his bedroom, “Did you do it?”
“Yeah,” I hollered back.
Dad didn’t say anything else.
Jason muttered to me, “What do we do now?”
“We wait for a video of Emily telling us she’s okay.”
—: o o o :—
Emily’s bus pulled to a stop in the back of the tall white courthouse building. Numerous uniformed Thai police officers stood guard outside as Emily and the other women were hustled into the building. A dozen Thai journalists with cameras snapped pictures and filmed Emily’s humiliating journey.
A reporter shouted at her, “Are you guilty? Will you plead guilty today?”
Emily ignored the question. She was so tired she could barely walk, but the guards hollered at her in Thai, demanding she walk herself.
Every footstep was an ordeal, but she kept going.
Inside, she was checked in and placed in a holding cell with fifty other women. Two hours later, she was led to a small waiting room where she sat on a row of plastic chairs beside three other women who also wore brown prison uniforms. An hour after that, a Thai man wearing black robes and an embroidered gold tie draped over his left shoulder walked into the room and introduced himself to Emily.
He tipped his head in a minimal bow and said, “I your att-ney.”
“What?” Emily could barely understand him.
He smiled, “I your court app-ni-ted att-ney.”
She cringed, “I’m sorry. I can barely understand you.”
His frustration was obvious but he tried to hide it. “Your att-ney. Att-ney.”
“Attorney?”
“Yes,” he beamed a smile and bowed his head. “Yes.”
She smiled back, trying to set him at ease.
For a moment, he looked over the paperwork in his hand, all of it in Thai. As he read, he nodded. “Aaah. Mmm. Aaaah. Aaaah.” He nodded about ten times before looking at Emily. “No good.”
“What? Why?” Emily felt her body go hot all over as fear leaked into her veins.
“You make da Ya-ba.”
“What? No! I don’t make Yaba! That Yaba wasn’t even mine! The Thai police planted it on me!”
He nodded, looking at her
thoughtfully. “Aaaaah.”
Had he understood anything she’d said?
“Mmmm. Ya-ba cat-gory wan nar-co-teek. You make tenty gam.” He slid a photo out of the stack of paperwork and showed it to Emily. It pictured the same large plastic bag of fifty or more orange pills the crooked police official had shown her at the station when he’d pressured her for a bribe. “You make to sell?”
“No! I told you, I didn’t make it and I wasn’t going to sell it!”
He frowned. “For you?”
“Huh?”
“For you to…” He pretended to pop pills into his mouth. “For you?”
“What?”
“Aaaaah… for…aaaah…” He smiled and pulled a phone out of his robes and opened a translator app. He spoke Thai into his phone, then held the phone up to Emily’s ear. A woman’s voice with a perfect American accent spoke from the phone, “You have the many drug of personal use?”
“No! The drugs aren’t mine!”
He frowned at her.
Did he think she was lying? She looked at him, imploring him with every fiber of her being to just believe her.
“Mmmmm.” He looked away, uncomfortable. Took a deep breath. Looked at her again. “Cat-gory wan seria crime. Court send you da seria life sentent.”
“What?” she whined, wishing she could make sense of him, but it was getting harder and harder to concentrate as her fear escalated and edged into rampant insanity.
He spoke Thai quietly into his phone again, then held it up for Emily so she could hear the translation.
The pleasant American female voice said, “The penalty of category one possession to sell is of life imprisonment and is of the death sentence.” The sim voice nearly smiled as it said the words.
Emily’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.
Two words echoed through her head again and again.
Death sentence
Death sentence.
Death sentence.
—: Chapter 22 :—
Wednesday, March 18th, 2037
6:08pm
The Real World
“What the hell is this?” I demanded, staring at my phone.
