The Ghost Network (book 1)

by I. I Davidson

  “No problem.” Slack looked almost cheerful. “Been there, done that.”

  “Our footwear is the only problem,” said John darkly. “But according to the map on Akane’s phone, it’s only about five miles to the radar station. We can last that long. Surely.” He glanced doubtfully at Salome’s thin boots.

  “I suggest,” said Salome briskly, “we stop talking and get walking.”

  And, as always, when Salome gave instructions, they found themselves obeying.

  <<>>

  An easterly wind bit their faces as they trudged through the blizzard, with Slack taking the lead with Akane’s compass. They were already high above sea level, and the slope kept rising. John could feel frost crystals forming on his eyelashes, dragging his eyelids down; he dreaded to think how bad it would get at a higher altitude. Five miles, that’s all.

  Yeah. Five miles across the worst terrain I’ve ever seen. In an Arctic blizzard.

  It was going to take focus, and he was struggling to find that. The contact from Mikael still seemed like a dream, an illusion. But in his gut, he knew it was real. And Dad thinks we can make it to Tin City. That means we can.

  Gritting his teeth, John walked.

  Nobody wanted to waste energy on conversation. They’d been trudging in weary silence for more than an hour when Akane dropped back to walk at his side. John could hear her harsh panting breaths. And she’s in better shape than any of us.

  “I know you’ve got a lot to process,” she said through her chattering teeth.

  “You’re not kidding.” He tried to smile, but his face felt frozen.

  “Do you have doubts, John?”

  He gave her a wry glance. “Of course I do. But it’s all true. My programming says so.”

  “IIDA,” she muttered.

  “Why did he go away, Akane? Why did he let us think he was dead?”

  She halted, her breath pluming like smoke. “I don’t know, John. But he had his reasons. Look at what Lykos tried to do. Your dad knew what he was.”

  John nodded, then hitched his pack higher on his shoulders. “Come on. The blizzard’s getting stronger.”

  Taking the hint, Akane fell silent as they struggled on through the deepening drifts.

  “Your sister is the best,” she panted after a while.

  “I . . . know.” The shock of Akane’s story could still take John’s mind off his aching chest and his already-wet feet. “What’s the plan? Where is she now?”

  “In Nome. With Brody and the others. She thinks I caught a boat ride to Diomede, but I couldn’t get one. So I waited. At the airport. We can”—Akane sucked in a harsh breath—“contact her by phone. That’s what your dad knew. I’ll tell her to get the plane to the airstrip at Tin City. Pick us up and fly us back to Nome.”

  “It’s a plan,” said John doubtfully.

  “It’s our only plan.” She plodded grimly on.

  Ahead of John, Salome was stumbling in the deepening snow. He picked up his pace, anxious.

  “You OK?”

  She could only nod. “Done worse.”

  “Liar.” John managed a grin.

  The mountain’s flank rose before them, smooth and white beneath a looming charcoal sky. The hope that surged as they approached each false summit was followed by a crushing despair as another upward stretch was revealed. One foot in front of the other. One foot in front—

  Salome gave a hoarse cry as she stumbled forward. John crouched and hauled her to her feet.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she whispered.

  “Come on,” he urged her through his frozen lips. “All that gym time!”

  “It’s the cold,” she mumbled. “My feet. They’re soaking.”

  Great clumps of snow had stuck to the soles of her boots. John knocked the ice away as best he could with his gloved fist.

  “You have to keep going,” he muttered. “Come on, Salome.” He dragged her forward, and with a groan she stumbled on.

  Without Slack, he thought, they wouldn’t have gotten even this far. His friend seemed to know exactly what he was doing, adjusting their course by small increments, forging upward but keeping the sea to their right and the steep incline to the summit on their left. John couldn’t see the ocean through the murky air, but he could hear it, a low distant booming at the foot of the mountain’s western slopes. From time to time Slack glanced skyward, seeming frustrated. I bet he’d be navigating by the sun and the stars if he could see them, thought John. There was more to his friend than he’d realized.

  But five miles seemed like forever.

  Salome was leaning heavily on his arm now, her trudging steps an automatic force of habit. She could hardly lift her feet; she left a dragging trench through the snow as each boot lurched forward.

  I don’t know how much longer she can go on, John thought with a stab of dull panic. We have to rest again. Just for a moment.

  No, we can’t. Every time they did, he was afraid Salome would never be able to start walking again. But the pain in his lungs and muscles was acute, and his legs were failing. Against his will, he stumbled to a halt, sagging against the exhausted Salome.

  John raised his head to shout to Slack, and the words froze in his throat.

  Slack had already stopped. He turned, and the grim, dogged despair had left his face. Light gleamed on his grinning teeth.

  John blinked painfully. Light. Snow light. Sunlight.

  The dragging blanket of clouds was lifting as he watched. The force of the blizzard had faltered, and slits of blue had appeared among the solid looming gray.

  And the summit was visible.

  This time, John knew it was for real: a perfect, unnatural sphere perched at the summit’s crest, high up to their left. The white globe glittered in the sun’s rays; below it, a row of pylons marched down the slope and disappeared over a low ridge. They too were completely white, iced over with snow.

  “The radar station!” barked Slack. “We’re nearly there!”

  John’s frozen face cracked into a smile. “It’s downhill from here!” he told Salome hoarsely. “Come on. You can do this!”

  Her muscles stiffened, she took a sharp breath, and faintly he heard her croak, “Yes.”

  With a crunch of snow, Akane appeared at his side. Her eyes were all he could see behind her hood and tightly wrapped face, and they were furrowed with concern. “Salome needs to rest for a bit. Eat something.” She crouched to rummage in her backpack for an energy bar.

  Slack forged on for another hundred yards or so, scoping out the downward incline, and John struggled through the knee-deep snow to his side.

  His friend turned, his expression ominous.

  “You know how you’re scared of heights, John?”

  <<>>

  The four of them stood on the edge of the precipice and peered at the ground far below.

  “I’ve gotten down steeper slopes,” said Akane. “But what about Salome? Are you up for it?”

  Salome shot her a dry look. She looked re-energized: maybe by the food, maybe by the clear sky, maybe simply by the prospect of the journey being almost over. “I’m not walking farther than I have to,” she growled. “This is the quickest way to the base station, and I’m taking it. It’s like the climbing wall at the Wolf’s Den.”

  “But real,” groaned John, taking a step back. His stomach lurched, and his head swam.

  “If we don’t go this way, we’ll have a detour of several miles,” Salome told him sternly. “You told me I could cross the mountain, and I did. Now it’s my turn to tell you. You’re capable of this, John. You know the basics from the Center.”

  “This isn’t a climbing wall.” He shivered. “It’s a full-on deadly cliff. And I think I got nineteen feet up the climbing wall. I’m a beginner!”

  Akane placed a hand on his arm. “It’
s not vertical. We don’t need rappelling gear. Just take it slow.”

  “How?”

  “Think,” she murmured. “Or—no. Don’t think. Let IIDA do your thinking. Remember everything I’ve told you about meditating, John? It’s no time for a crash course. But try.”

  John wished she hadn’t used the words “crash course.” But he obeyed her as he stepped back from the edge and closed his eyes. He took several deep breaths to slow his thumping heartbeat.

  It happened faster than he could have imagined. Like an emergency protocol, something at the back of his brain snapped into life. Holds. Grabs.

  He panted, startled, and his eyes snapped open. Again. I need more information!

  Rock temperature: adjust for conditions. Ice tension. Adapt. Make allowances. This is how.

  He closed his eyes and it scrolled down the inside of his eyelids like lines of code, but a code he could read like a child’s storybook. This is how. No need to learn. You know it.

  I know it.

  He slowly blinked his eyes open and flexed his fingers. “Can we go now? I’m afraid I’ll forget.”

  “You won’t forget.” Akane gazed into his eyes. “Pass the knowledge into your cells. Your body will do the rest.” She grinned. “There is no try, padawan. There is only do.”

  John turned awkwardly, lowered himself over the edge, and began the descent.

  <<>>

  Later, John couldn’t even remember how he’d done it. It was as if Parallel John were making the climb, and he was simply along for the ride. One foothold, one handhold to the next, he climbed steadily downward, his brain guiding his limbs, making adjustments, signaling warnings. That blade of rock isn’t safe. He moved his hand. The ice has loosened the scree to your left. Avoid that patch; the ice is bad.

  He was barely aware of the others; he was moving faster than all of them. The wall of stone in front of his eyes might as well have been a screen: information flickered across it, guiding and directing. Climbing down was like scrolling the screen, and its flickering data was constant—

  Except when it stopped.

  And his feet were firmly on the gravelly ground.

  And when he turned, blinking the program away, he saw only a broad sweep of icy plain and the frozen sea beyond. And between them, in the near distance, lay the cluster of abandoned huts that was Tin City.

  “I told you so,” said Akane smugly.

  John grinned. “You did.”

  The four of them huddled in one of the abandoned huts as the wind howled and rattled the iron roof above them. Slack had thrown safety to the winds and lit Akane’s tiny gas-canister stove. He’d perched it beneath a cracked-open window, in a gesture to not give them carbon monoxide poisoning, so he could boil dried food packets in melted snow.

  Akane tapped intently at her phone, but she couldn’t keep the smile of achievement off her face. “I can’t believe we made it. And we didn’t die.”

  “We didn’t really make it, did we?” John made a face. He’d always thought of himself as clever—preternaturally clever—and he’d been proud of it. It wasn’t as if he was good at sports or English lit; computer science had been his special talent. But it sounded like he’d got the preternaturally part right, if nothing else.

  And it all comes back to Dad. He’s the one who did this to me.

  To relieve his feelings, he kicked at a broken desk. “It was the programming. It was IIDA.”

  Akane tilted her head. “IIDA gave us information; all we had to do was access it. She’s like our mom sending us stern text messages. But John—we’re the ones who have to rise to the challenge.”

  “Our Mom.” John managed to laugh. Three mothers. That was what he’d blurted to Salome and Slack, back at the Center: Tina, Salome, and . . . Yeah, that was how it felt. Hi, other-other Mom. Thanks for nothing.

  And you, Dad. Relief and affection warred with bitter resentment.

  “I got through to Leona and Brody and the others,” Akane interrupted, clicking her phone off. “They’re heading here in a couple of hours. Leona just has a bit of shopping to finish.”

  “In Nome?” John gave a bark of laughter. “My sister could find a Macy’s in the Sahara.”

  “As long as they’ve got an internet café, I’ll be happy.” There was a mischievous glint in Akane’s eyes. “There’s one way we can help Eva. I’ve got an idea about that malware.”

  “I thought you might. Thanks for coming all this way, Akane.” John grew serious. “We wouldn’t have made it out without you.”

  “We haven’t quite made it yet,” Akane warned him.

  “You think the hunters might track us down here?” asked John nervously. He glanced around, half expecting black-clad figures to swing through shattered windows while toting automatic rifles. “I mean, we’re sitting ducks if they find out where we’ve gone.”

  “Yes. But the Center’s still locked down. Nobody’s tracking this phone—I’ve made sure of it—and yours is lifeless again. With luck, those gunmen will expect us to stay around Wales. They’re probably searching every cranny of it now. Ha.”

  “Sloppy joes and chili tacos all round,” yelled Slack from the stove. “Well, it’s . . . ” he peered at the empty packets, “curried chicken stew, and it looks revolting, but it’s food.”

  They lingered over the meal while wrinkling their noses at the chewy lumps of chicken, but they enjoyed hot food at last.

  “I guess we’re still human enough to be hungry,” said Slack with a wry grin.

  “I’ve been thinking.” John set his bowl aside. “Dad said that when we were at the Center, we synced in some way with this supercomputer, this IIDA?”

  Akane nodded. “I guess the longer you were there, the harder you worked and used your brains and the faster the connection became.”

  “But the nightmares,” said John darkly. “We all had them. Those could only have come from IIDA.”

  “Waking nightmares,” Slack reminded him. He looked as if he’d suddenly lost his appetite. “I don’t think a powerful urge to kill two people is a very benevolent sort of program.”

  Salome put her bowl down. “Are we for something?” she asked. “Because I want to make a positive difference in the world. I don’t want to be used to kill anyone.”

  “I don’t want to be used at all,” said Slack.

  Akane chewed thoughtfully; she was the only one still eating. “I think we are for something, yes. Or we could be used. Why else would Lykos want to get his hands on us? Why would your principal say she had the ‘subjects secure’?”

  John shivered.

  “But the dreams,” Akane went on. “These kids, this Leo and Adam—you suspect they installed the malware, right? I don’t think IIDA wanted you to kill them. I think your programs just wanted you to delete the bug. That’s all.”

  Delete. That was the word his brain had used. John brightened.

  “It wasn’t an instruction.” Akane shrugged. “It was an electronic instinct.”

  “That makes sense,” said Slack. A happy grin began to form on his face. “It really does. Hey, I’m not a homicidal maniac!” He paused, considering. “John probably is, though.”

  John growled and smacked his shoulder with a glove.

  “So you weren’t created to do bad thi—” Akane stopped, tilting her head.

  John held his breath. Distantly, from the sky beyond the hut, came the faint sound of a twin-prop engine.

  “John,” smiled Akane, getting to her feet. “I do believe your sister finished her shopping early.”

  “Ye of little faith,” said Slack, leaning back on his plastic chair. “I told you Nome would have an internet café.”

  “Sh,” said Akane. “I’m concentrating.”

  “Did you get into the North West Campus’s system?” John craned eagerly over her shoulder.
>
  “Yup.” Akane looked satisfied. “Their encryption algorithms were pathetic. The Wolf’s Den may be Digital Fort Knox, but I’ve got half of Alaska University’s capacity working for me now.”

  “I hope it’s working fast,” said Salome. “Leona and her friends said they wanted to leave for Anchorage well before sundown. They’ll be back to pick us up any minute.”

  “We’ve almost done it.” John turned back to his own keyboard. “Akane was right—there is a back door to the Wolf’s Den. I caught a glimpse of it before—I bet that’s what triggered the full takeover by the malware. Adam and Leo said something—that I just got too close for comfort.” He furrowed his brow and focused on the café computer. “But all the bad guys’ digital fire is concentrated on keeping out the tech staff on Diomede. They’re not watching over their shoulders for some internet café in Nome. Look—see that oscillating variable matrix?” He jabbed at his screen. “That’s the hacker’s footprint, right there.”

  Salome whistled. “Clever. And sneaky.”

  “And not Adam and Leo,” added John. “They might have installed the malware, but they didn’t create it. They were acting under orders.”

  “And we can guess whose,” murmured Salome.

  “Ten minutes,” growled Akane. “That’s all I need.” She glared at the virus as if she wanted to throttle it with its own digital trail.

  She’d said ten minutes; between them, they were done in six. John gave a bark of triumph and shoved his chair back on its casters, spinning till he almost hit the wall.

  “Bang, bang, Velociraptor. You are dead.”

  They exchanged whoops and fist bumps, drawing perplexed stares from the café owners and the scattering of patrons.

  Salome became subdued and thoughtful. “I’m glad we did this. We owed it to Eva.”

  John nodded. “She’s still in danger, but at least her mind will be intact.”

  “Yes.” A voice crackled from the screen.

  “Dad?” John scooted his chair back to the computer, and the others clustered in a huddle around him. There was no blizzard of pixels this time, no sign of Mikael at all: only an old and slightly blurred photo. Eva Vygotsky stood against sunlight that made a white halo around her pale hair. Her black-rimmed eyes were clear and penetrating.