Tracker220

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Tracker220 Page 16

by Jamie Krakover


  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Some garbage truck swept it up. What’s the big deal? It’s just a copy, right?”

  “Losing TROGS is a shitstorm! If someone finds that computer, we’re all screwed.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. Emily inched closer to me, as if she knew I’d protect her. I couldn’t let Peyton find out exactly what had happened. She’d kill me.

  Mouth dry and tongue swelling, I swallowed hard. “I’m sure it will be fine. That thing smashed into a billion pieces when it hit the ground. I doubt any of it is recognizable.” But I didn’t believe that, so why should Peyton?

  “You better hope so.” Peyton flicked her hair over her shoulder and stomped to the trap door. She disappeared, leaving Emily and me alone in the barn.

  I pulled out the paint cans again and dipped my brush into the black. I continued with the design on the barn wall while Emily sat with a paintbrush on the barn floor. My strokes started out choppy but slowly transformed into smooth, effortless lines. Even though the patterns meant nothing to me, they were soothing.

  I had nothing to lose myself in but painting. No tracker messages, no blinking lights, nothing but my art with no lenses or filters. Despite all the chaos around me, it was amazing how calming it all was. Everything Dad had ever said about unplugging and taking time to reflect made sense. I finally understood the meaning of Shabbat, and it wasn’t a sacrifice at all. It was about allowing myself to experience the world in a different way than my everyday routine—to be myself without all the distractions. To rest. I leaned in and embraced the quiet calm.

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t know how much time had passed. It must have been a while, though, because Emily ended up curled in a small pile of hay, fast asleep, peaceful. And now I was thankful I knew how to find that kind of serenity too.

  The trap door creaked, causing me to jump. Jeremy appeared, followed by Bailen.

  “We’ve been looking for you,” Jeremy said.

  Bailen scowled but didn’t say anything.

  “I was painting.” A hint of a smile briefly crossed Bailen’s face before his scowl returned, as if he were forcing himself to remain mad at me. “Emily was too, but I think she’s worn out.” I pointed to the corner.

  Jeremy craned his neck then moved around me and cradled her in his arms. “I’ll get her to bed.” He gave Bailen a mischievous grin before leaving the barn.

  I dug my foot into the ground, more interested in my shoes than Bailen. “I’m sorry about your computer,” I mumbled.

  Bailen ignored me and climbed onto his bike.

  “Wait.” I grabbed his arm, more because I needed to touch him than to stop him from leaving. “Talk to me.”

  He shrugged my hand off, taking my last shred of hope to turn his mood around away with it. “What do you want me to say?” From his slouched back to his tense jaw, the hurt oozed out of him. Even his eyelids drooped, as if they had given up. He’d lost everything because of me.

  “I don’t have time to chat. I have to get the computer.” He winced as if he were watching it tumble to the ground and shatter all over again. “Or what’s left of it.”

  I wanted so badly to hug him, but I doubted he would let me. “At least let me come with. It’s partially my fault.” No, that was a lie. “Okay, all my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. It was my responsibility.”

  “I still feel bad. Let me help.” Besides needing to rid myself of the guilt, I needed an excuse to forget what had happened earlier. All of it.

  “Fine. Just be ready to get your hands dirty.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Hop on. I’ll show you.”

  I climbed on the bike as he revved the engine. We shot through the open barn doors before I could get my arms fully around Bailen’s waist. The wind whipped past as we headed for the sky.

  “So, how did you find the computer?” I asked as we flew. “I thought it was swept away by that garbage truck.”

  “The good news is I was able to hack the city’s logs and find out where the truck makes its drop-offs.”

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “Maybe I should let you wait and see.”

  Great! More surprises. As we emerged from the wooded area, I saw the local fly-in movie theater at the edge of town. I knew it well. My friends and I went there often because it was too far for our parents to chase us down, but it was a parentally acceptable activity because despite the name, we could walk and enjoy the movies from the picnic benches. Harlow and I frequently made out there—or used to. The once happy thought gave rise to an uneasy feeling I had to shove deeper down to avoid.

  Bailen pitched the bike downward, landing in a lot next to the fly-in.

  “The town dump?” I asked, gagging on the stench of rotting food and dead animals.

  “Yep. I warned you that you might get dirty.”

  “I didn’t think you were being literal.”

  “I don’t joke around when it comes to my computer equipment.” He extended his hand to me. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

  I accepted his hand. His touch sent tingles through my fingertips, but he let go far too soon. We walked through the main fence into the dimly lit junkyard. I scanned the trash heaps. Each of the piles around us seemed to contain a random assortment of junk, everything from metal scraps to rotting food to broken furniture. “How are we supposed to find TROGS in all this?”

  “With this.” He pulled a small blue box from his jacket pocket and flipped it open. When he turned the switch on, a small window display lit up. “If we get within one hundred feet of TROGS, my device should pick it up.”

  “What’s to stop the authorities from being able to track that signal?”

  “It’s modified old tech. The authorities wouldn’t know to look for it. Not to mention, you basically have to be on top of the box to find it.” Bailen slowly moved the device in a large arc.

  In the dark it was hard to tell how far the piles of trash went, but I imagined a never-ending field of garbage. “Great. We’re sunk.”

  “We are not.” He paused to pick something off one of the heaps. “It just might take a while.”

  We’d be junkyard diving all night. I walked into the distance, but honestly, I didn’t even know how to begin to find TROGS. It was hopeless.

  “This place is a dump,” I said, gagging on the smell of something so rancid, I couldn’t begin to identify it.

  “No kidding,” Bailen called from behind one of the trash heaps. “But you never know what gems you’ll discover.”

  When he rounded a giant pile of crumpled plastic bottles and old clothes, I couldn’t help but laugh. He was wearing giant gold-rimmed glasses that were missing a lens, a sideways red mesh hat, and a hot pink plastic clip-on earring.

  “You look ridiculous,” I said, trying to stifle my giggling. It wasn’t supposed to be a fun trip. We had equipment to find. The longer I spent in the dump, the sicker I felt.

  “Yeah, but I made you laugh, didn’t I?”

  “Sure,” was all I could manage to get out through my swirl of mixed-up emotions.

  With everything that had happened, I’d forgotten how to have fun. It felt good to let go a little. It was strange, almost like I was watching a new person. Or maybe I was seeing him in a new way, without a filter.

  I ran to the next pile of trash, kicked an apple core aside, and picked up a torn floppy green hat with giant purple and pink flowers. Putting it on my head, I turned to Bailen. “What do you think?”

  “Beautiful, my lady. Care to dance?” He held out his hand, palm up. When I grabbed it, he pulled me in close. We performed a mock tango down the aisles of trash, giggling as we went.

  In the center of the dump, we collapsed onto a pile of trash, our chests heaving from laughing so hard. The stars in the sky shined brighter at the edge of town. My hand sat inches from his in an infinite limbo. My head went into an immediate tug-o-war. Part of my brain said, Take his hand! while the other part thoug
ht, No, you’ve lost your chance. I went back and forth for what seemed like an eternity. My fingers crept toward his then pulled back in an awkward dance.

  I took a deep breath and started to make my move, but Bailen sat up and pulled out his device again. He circled it around, checking the screen. “I don’t think it’s here.”

  I pulled the green hat off my head, wishing I could bury my face in it. If it didn’t stink so bad, I might have.

  “Come on, let’s keep searching.” He stood and reached out to me. I let him pull me up, but he quickly turned his attention back to the device.

  We wandered the dump in silence with the trash below our feet crunching in rhythm to our steps. I opened my mouth a million times to say something but always thought better of it. A strange energy buzzed between us, almost as if we’d get zapped if we moved any closer to each other.

  After an eternity of silence and searching a majority of the trash piles, he said, “The device would have beeped by now. Either that or TROGS was too badly damaged.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought we’d find it.” A lame attempt to lift his mood, even though I knew it was an impossible task.

  “It’s okay,” he said. He grabbed my hand and squeezed, sending a shiver up my arm. Maybe my mixed-up feelings weren’t so crazy after all. Maybe he was still interested. Maybe I was, too.

  “I’m guessing it’s completely destroyed. There’s no way it fell from that height and still works. Even if the authorities found it, I doubt it would be useful to them now.” He shrugged, but I wasn’t sure if he really believed everything he said. He was rationalizing the loss to himself.

  I stood in silence, unsure how to respond. Odds were, if we couldn’t find it, no one else would, either. At least I hoped that was true.

  After a long while, Bailen broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yeah. Anything.”

  “Who was that guy chasing us earlier? You seemed to know him.”

  “Just some jerk from school.”

  Bailen put his arm around me, pulling my shoulder into him. “Really? ’Cause it seemed like you knew him pretty well.”

  I shuddered then took a deep breath, preparing myself. “He’s my boyfriend,” I said. “Or at least he was. Now, I don’t know what he is. It’s a mess, like everything else in my life.”

  “If you want my opinion, he sounds like an asshole. But he’s whatever you let him be.”

  As much as I cared for Harlow, Bailen was right. I could choose whether or not I wanted Harlow in my life. How could two people cheat and hurt each other and still think they fit? I wasn’t sure Harlow and I were right for each other. Maybe we never had been.

  Bailen’s deep green eyes held a hint of sadness that told me he cared despite everything that was happening. I had something great right in front of me. I wouldn’t let it go again.

  Bailen leaned down and kissed me, dragging me out of my worried thoughts. I let the warmth and kindness pull me into the moment. Every painful thought and uncertainty drained out of me into the trash heap below us, exactly where it belonged. I was safe with Bailen. I didn’t have to worry anymore in a moment that felt more right than any other. Despite everything changing at lightning speed, Bailen had become the one person who always seemed to be next to me at the right times. The one constant.

  And without another thought, I knew my answer.

  I pulled away from the kiss but leaned into him, watching the giant movie screen at the fly-in on the other side of the fence. “Man, I miss the movies,” I said in a hushed voice, trying to change the subject.

  “Really?” Bailen asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then what are we doing in this trash heap?”

  A couple of minutes later, we were on the opposite side of the fence. We parked in the far lot away from most of the other vehicles.

  “Are you sure it’s safe to be out in public?” I asked.

  “I think the authorities have much better things to do then stakeout the local fly-in,” Bailen said. “But we can hang back here just in case.”

  Climbing off the bike, I handed my helmet to Bailen. “Wait here. I want to go clean up a bit. I smell like a dumpster.”

  I headed for the bathroom. Once inside, I grabbed a wad of paper towels from the dispenser next to the sink. Flipping on the faucet, I checked the dimly lit mirror. My face was red, puffy, and streaked with brown, like I’d been crying dirt for a week, which was perfect because that was exactly how I felt.

  A frantic knock on the door made me jump. I turned as the door opened and Bailen slipped inside.

  “You know this is the ladies’ room, right?”

  “Yeah, but that’s the least of my concerns. We’ve got company.”

  “What?”

  “A couple of agents just showed up. I guess they proved my theory wrong.”

  “Crap.”

  “I think it’s just a routine check. We’ll lie low and sneak out before they see us.”

  I knew our little detour had been too good to be true. I dropped the paper towels in the trash and shut off the sink. Bailen cracked the door and scanned outside. “They’re gone for now.”

  As Bailen pulled the door open all the way, he put his arm around me. We stepped out of the bathroom and kept to the shadows. I laced my fingers through his. He led me to the far side of the building. At the corner, we stopped. Pressing a finger to his lips, he peered around the side of the building but jolted back.

  “There’s an agent,” he whispered, his hot breath beating into my ear.

  Twenty

  Bailen backed against the wall, and I leaned into him, inching closer and closer until our bodies met. I tensed as his chin rested on my shoulder, his breath tickling behind my ear. I buried my face in his neck. He left a trail of soft kisses starting from my earlobe down my jawline. I wrapped my arms around his waist and didn’t bother to pretend I wasn’t enjoying it.

  “Is it clear?” he whispered. His hot breath made me shiver.

  I rose on my tiptoes and slowly peeked around the corner, struggling to focus as Bailen pulled back the collar of my sweatshirt and caressed my shoulder with his lips. I shook my head. Bailen pulled me in. His heart pounded in time with mine. If I hadn’t been freaking out about a million things, it might have been hot.

  “Now?” Bailen’s voice ripped through my uneasiness. I peeked around the side of the building. The agent rounded the corner toward the front of the building. I let out a long breath in relief.

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Bailen grabbed my hand. We tore across the parking lot. Moments later, we were on the bike and in the air.

  The whole way to the Hive, I didn’t know whether to be more concerned that the authorities were so close to me or to TROGS. As much as I wanted to believe it was an awkward coincidence, part of me knew it was no accident the agents had been at the fly-in. Not only did many kids from school hang out there, but it was right next to the dump. There were too many places to search for clues. I’d have to be more careful. If I got caught, what would they do to me? What would they do to my parents? My parents.

  Flying crotchrockets.

  I’d been so worried about Harlow, Bailen, Emily, TROGS, and everyone else, I’d completely forgotten about what Harlow had said—that my parents had left. Or had they? Where would they have gone? And why leave when I was missing? It didn’t add up. And that fact ate away at me. I needed answers before the awful thoughts fogging my mind took over.

  I was so distracted, I didn’t realize we’d landed in the barn until Bailen shut off the bike. He opened the trap door but paused. “You coming?”

  I wanted to, but I couldn’t let the horrible feeling go. I shook my head. “I need to paint some more.” It was a lame excuse, but hopefully he’d buy it.

  “Okay. Don’t stay out here forever. I may need you.”

  I stifled the growing smile because I wasn’t sure if he meant my tracker or me. “I’ll come down in an hour or so.”

/>   “I’ll be watching the clock.” He smirked, letting me know it was more than just my tracker, then disappeared through the trap door.

  The minute it slammed shut, I bolted to my bike and rolled it silently out of the barn. When I was out of hearing range, I started it and took to the sky. An hour didn’t give me much time, but I had to follow my instinct. As I flew over the river toward the city, I wished the wind swirling around me could blow away all my uncertainty.

  Ten minutes later, I landed beside my apartment building. I hid my bike behind a dumpster then jogged up the fire escape. I couldn’t risk entering the building on the main floor or the roof, there were too many cameras and tracking sensors. But if I could peek in the windows, I’d hopefully get my answer. When I reached the thirtieth floor, I paused to catch my breath.

  Now came the fun part. With the fire escape ending there, I had to scale the last five floors. Many buildings in midtown had this feature. When they decided to add additional housing on top of the existing buildings, they built extra internal stairwells instead of expanding the external ones. Something about improving the external aesthetic of the building, but they never removed what was already there which was to my benefit.

  Although I’d snuck out and climbed from my window to Lydia’s more times than I could count, I’d never attempted to crawl up the side of my building. I jumped on the railing and grabbed on to the window ledge above. Kicking my feet up, I pulled myself onto the concrete lip that was barely wide enough for my feet. From there, I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and searched for hand and footholds between the balconies. Slowly, I moved toward my window. I shifted in and out of the shadows cast by the single bulbs lighting every few floors. Luckily, most people were asleep; otherwise, they might have screamed and alerted the authorities of a creepy figure outside their windows.

  As I continued, it was tough to find secure holds. Sweat dripped, blurring my vision, but I didn’t dare move my arm to wipe it. My palms grew clammy. With every reach upward, securing a grip became more difficult. My fingertips began to slide on the bricks. I risked a quick swipe on my shirt before stretching to the next position. Legs wobbling, I paused to balance myself then judged the distance to my window. Just a few more arm lengths and I’d be there.

 

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