“Did he ever mention anything about struggling to remember things?”
“No. He had a great memory.”
That wasn’t exactly what I’d meant, but Bailen kept going. “He talked about you a lot. Shared tons of stories. Not being able to contact you killed him.”
“I missed him, too,” I said. “Miss him,” I softly corrected.
“I’d never seen him happier than the day we picked you up. He was at your side moments after you collapsed. He sat outside your door for hours waiting for you to wake up.”
“He was in the computer room at the Hive?”
Bailen cracked a smile. “I think you were a little too preoccupied blaming me for your tracker malfunctions to see anyone else in the room.”
I choked down a laugh, remembering how pissed and confused I’d been. “I had good reason to think so.” I stopped then added, “At the time.”
Bailen picked up my sliced-up drawing. “And now?”
“Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to make me apologize.”
“No, I was just hoping to hear I was right all along.”
“Not going to happen.” I grabbed the drawing and laid it on the floor. I sat back and admired it, hoping the rips hadn’t ruined it completely. But if I had to start over again, I would. It was too important. It had to be perfect.
Bailen reached around me and smoothed out a section of the drawing. He rested his chin on his hand and pointed at the spot with a giant gash running through it. “I was afraid of this,” he said under his breath.
“Of what?”
“Are you sure this group of lines here is right?” He pointed to the latest series of lines, which had turned the drawing into grated cheese.
Although I was certain, I did a quick comparison between the schematic on my tracker and my sketch. “Yes, it’s a perfect match. Why?”
“I was afraid of this.”
“You keep saying that. What’s wrong?”
“Come with me.”
Before I could protest, he grabbed my arm with one hand and the drawing in the other. He dragged me down the hall.
“Bailen, what’s going on?”
Rather than respond, he picked up his pace. A minute later, we were in the computer room, where a very large schematic was projected onto the big screen hanging on the far wall. It was a giant computer simulation of my drawings. The only thing missing was a small cutout in the bottom right-hand corner of the screen—the placeholder for the final two drawings.
“You’ve been busy.”
Bailen dropped my arm, leaving me alone in the center of the room. He picked up a roll of tape from his desk and held up my drawing to the edge of the computer-simulated one. He fixed the image to the screen with a piece of tape, leaving only a small corner of the image bare.
Jeremy came up next to me examining at the drawings. “Bailen, you were right.”
“This was one thing I didn’t want to be right about.”
“Right about what?” I asked. “Would someone please explain what is going on?” I wanted to stomp my foot like a spoiled toddler, but I didn’t think it was going to get me answers. “Seriously, what am I looking at? And don’t tell me tracker schematics because I figured that much out.”
“These are the tracker schematics, but this part”—Bailen circled his arm around a chunk of the schematic, including my taped-up drawing—“is the piece of the tracker chip that allows the authorities to impair movement.”
“Yeah, so? We already know the authorities can stop anyone in their tracks. It keeps people from escaping them. This is nothing new.”
Jeremy shifted, then moved his gaze from the drawing to me. “Well, every chip has a switch on it. Kind of like a deadbolt. In one position it’s locked; in the other it’s unlocked. In the case of the chip, in one position you keep your free will. In the other, the authorities have the ability to stop you. No more free will.”
“So there’s a switch. I still don’t understand why this is a problem,” I said, my gaze darting between Jeremy’s and Bailen’s grim expressions, hoping one of them would answer me. The weight hanging over me since I’d discovered the drawings on my tracker grew even heavier.
“Kaya, come here,” Bailen said.
I walked toward him with the caution of a person walking on a rope bridge suspended over a lava river. With each step, my gut twisted further.
Bailen put his arm around me. With his free hand, he pointed to a small rectangular box that spanned between my taped-up sketch and the image projected on the screen. “This switch isn’t like a normal on/off switch.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our chips have a fatal flaw.”
“What kind of flaw?”
“This is the part I was hoping to be wrong about.”
“Would you just say it?”
“With the right activation code, a user could hack in and control someone. Not just stop them but bend them to their will. Turn the person into a mind-controlled minion.”
Thirty-Three
“Wait, that flaw allows for complete mind control? How?” I asked.
“If someone hacks in, they can send signals to the parts of the brain that control movement,” Bailen said.
Thoughts whirled around in a haze as I tried to form coherent questions. “Is that flaw in everyone’s trackers?”
“I think so.”
“If that’s true, why aren’t we all mind-controlled now? Why haven’t we seen anyone acting weird?”
“My guess is whoever knows about it is waiting for the right moment to strike. But until we see the final drawing and do some research, we may not be able to uncover all the secrets.”
With a renewed sense of purpose, I spun and ran from the room yelling, “I’m on it.”
My heart pounded as I bolted through the corridors. My breaths and pulsing blood formed the rhythm of an ominous song. I collapsed in front of a fresh sheet of paper, accessing the final drawing and putting the charcoal to the paper, letting my hand take over.
As the image took shape, I powered through the lines faster and faster. Adrenaline fueled me through the drawing. I owed everyone that much.
When I drew in the last line, I double, then triple-checked my work. It didn’t mean anything to me, but it was a perfect match.
Dropping the charcoal on the ground, I peeled the sketch off the floor and bolted to the computer room. When I arrived, only Bailen, Jeremy, and Peyton remained.
“I’ve got it,” I said as I tripped over my feet and quickly righted myself. Only then did I notice their foreboding expressions. “What’s with the pity party? I finished. We should be celebrating.”
Peyton flinched but said nothing. I moved from face to face, but no hint of an answer appeared. “Not this game again. This crap has to stop. What aren’t you telling me?”
“There’s no time,” Jeremy said, shaking his head.
“No time for what?”
Bailen spun me around so I could face him. “After we saw the latest drawing, Jeremy hacked the network and…”
“And what?”
“The upgrade is tomorrow night. By Friday morning, they’ll start mind controlling people. There’s not enough time to stop it.”
“The authorities aren’t as dumb as they look. They know we’ve been scrambling, so this has to be a trap. They’re trying to lure us in,” Peyton said.
“A trap? So that’s it? You’re just giving up? After everything we’ve been through? You’re going to let the authorities win?”
“Who said anything about giving up?” Bailen’s lips curled up into a half-smile that said he was ready to get back into the fight.
“You just said…” I stopped as I watched his full excitement erupt.
“You know I love a challenge. Let’s spring the trap.”
Behind Bailen, Peyton winced. It was such a slight movement, barely detectable. The risk of losing Bailen was going to rip her apart. How was I going to balance the war and keep Bailen from get
ting himself killed? I’d failed Jake. Or rather, Jake had died protecting me. I didn’t want to have to answer to Peyton if I let something awful happen to Bailen. I’d never forgive myself. Everything was going to work, or I’d die trying to save everyone I loved—what was left of them.
Bailen held out his hand. “Let me see that drawing.”
I passed it to him, and he tacked it to the empty space next to the now computer-generated image of my previous sketches. The schematic resembled an aerial view of a giant hedge maze, and its meaning was equally confusing.
Bailen studied the image before returning to his terminal. He typed in a few commands. “According to the computer analysis, these areas”—circles appeared around sections of the schematic projected on the wall—“are the possible weaknesses in the tracking chips.”
“So what can we do with that information?” I asked, searching the four circles on the image, one of which encompassed the final addition to the schematic.
“If we can figure out a way to interrupt the signal to any one of these pieces before the upgrade, it should disconnect every person from the tracker network,” Jeremy said.
“That doesn’t sound too bad.” Even though the words made it sound easy, I knew it wouldn’t be. Nothing was ever that easy.
“In theory, yes. In reality…” The normal fire in Peyton was replaced by a deep sadness, as if someone had opened the blinds to her soul.
“These two sections require direct access to the chip,” Bailen said as two of the circles flashed on the screen. “There is no way to physically access every living person’s chip and certainly not in less than two days. So, those loopholes are out.”
“And those other two?” I asked with a hint of hope that it wasn’t impossible.
“Although altering how this one receives data would permanently cripple the chips, it would require a program that will take weeks, maybe months to write,” Jeremy said.
“So that leaves the final one,” I said, pointing to the section circling the newest piece of the schematic.
“Yes.” Bailen propped his elbows on his desk and rested his chin in his hands, peering between the computer equipment at my sketch. “That one will be tricky, but I think it’s our only shot.”
Peyton walked up behind Bailen and whacked him on the back of the head. “Are you crazy? I’m no computer expert, but even I know what that does, and it’s a suicide mission.”
“It’s not suicide.” Bailen rubbed the back of his head. “But it is nearly impossible.”
“Let me guess. Corrupting that piece of the chip requires access to tracker labs?” I said half-sarcastically.
“Worse,” Jeremy said. “We have to break into tracker headquarters.”
“Not just headquarters. We need access to the brain of the building––the main server room inside Rufus Scurry’s private office. A place only mentioned in rumors,” Bailen said.
“How in the hell are we going to get in there? That place is more tightly controlled than a pair of authority binders.”
Peyton opened her mouth, then paused as if contemplating her next words very carefully. She took a deep breath and focused directly on me. “If we are going in there, we’ll have to look the part. We’re going to need a prisoner.”
Thirty-Four
“Me, a prisoner? They’ll never buy it.” The fact that they were using me as bait didn’t faze me. The plan was so insane, it was bound to fail from the moment we arrived at Global Tracking Systems.
I quickly ran over every possible scenario in my head. Imprisoned, injured, lab rat, death, mind-controlled zombie. It wouldn’t end well. It couldn’t.
“I’ve still got the authority uniform. We could steal a few more,” Peyton said.
“Sounds like we need to assemble a mission,” Bailen added.
“I’ll grab my gear. We can leave in a half hour.” Jeremy headed toward the back caverns.
“I’ll change my clothes,” I said, pulling at my grungy T-shirt and sweat pants I’d been wearing for the last three days. The whole process had put me in survival mode. I’d completely forgotten to do the day-to-day things, like showering. I turned on my heel, but before I could take a step, someone had the collar of my shirt.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Peyton asked.
I whirled around, ripping the shirt from Peyton’s grasp. “To shower and change for the mission. You’re going to need bait, right?”
“That’s cute, Kaya. You really think we’re taking you with us to go steal authority uniforms? There’s a bounty on your head. You aren’t going anywhere.”
“Seriously?” I scoffed. She might as well have been channeling Jake. I was seven years old again, and he was ditching me for his friends. They really were perfect for each other. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t seen it before. I searched her for an indication she was enjoying this, but it wasn’t there. She actually seemed a bit sad. Maybe we had bonded a little.
Bailen grabbed my hand. “I’m sorry. We have to protect you. Now more than ever. Without you, we will never make it into Rufus Scurry’s office. We won’t even make it into the building.”
I contemplated my next statement, trying to choose my words carefully. But then I thought better of it and clamped my mouth shut. He was right, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
Before any regretful words spilled from my mouth, I shook my head and yanked my hand free of Bailen’s. I darted from the room in an attempt to distance myself from their pathetic expressions. I didn’t want their pity.
I collapsed onto my bed exhausted, but sleep didn’t come. Rage welled inside me. I wanted everything to be over. I wanted my life back, my family, my friends. I buried my face in the pillow and screamed. I kept screaming, hoping the rage would leave, but it only fueled the anger.
I knew I should shower and change my clothes. That it would make me feel better, but my whole body ached. I didn’t want to feel better; I wanted to feel normal. But I wasn’t even sure what normal was anymore.
The rage was something I had control over, even if it was stupid. I had every intention of holding on to control for as long as possible. I fought the waves of exhaustion with every last ounce of energy, but eventually, fatigue formed as my anger slipped away.
“It’s time to go,” Bailen said.
“Go where?” I asked groggily.
“Global Tracking Systems.”
It was time to end it. “Now? Why didn’t anyone wake me?”
“We thought you could use the sleep.”
“Sleep? No, I needed to help you guys plan.” I threw the tangle of blankets off and swung my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Don’t worry. We’ll walk you through it as we go. Honestly, the less you know, the better. If for some reason you’re captured.” He paused to kiss me, but it didn’t reassure me. “Then you can’t tell them anything.”
“Okay, let me shower.”
“Kaya, there’s no time.”
“No time? I look like a crazy person.” I pulled the neck of my T-shirt over my nose. I smelled pretty bad, too. How could Bailen stand that close to me? I was disgusting.
“Actually, that’s a good thing. It’ll make it seem like you’ve been on the run. It’ll be more believable. But we have to go now. The upgrade is in three hours.”
“Three hours?”
“Yeah. We had to wait until the night shift. It’ll be easier to get inside.”
How had I slept so long? Three hours and it was all over. I couldn’t wrap my head around the number. Three. It was so small, such a short amount of time.
A part of me realized the time frame was comforting. Whether we won or lost, I wouldn’t have to worry anymore. But the other part of me shook from the inside out. Pulling the plan off would be nothing short of a miracle. Even worse, they were taking me in blind, as a hostage. We were doomed. No, they were doomed. I was as good as dead. I wasn’t sure if I was okay with that or not, but I didn’t have time to decide.
; Ten minutes later, we were in the makeshift motorbike garage with Jeremy and Peyton dressed in full authority gear. Bailen pulled on the authority jacket that matched the pants he wore. Their attire made my stomach churn, as if I were guilty of something. That same feeling I’d gotten in the woods, like I’d done something wrong, even when I hadn’t.
“How many guys did you have to take out to get the gear?” I asked.
They stared at me like it was a stupid question.
“Never mind. I don’t want to know.” A subtle reminder of how much longer they’d been fighting.
Jeremy and Peyton climbed onto their bikes. I approached Bailen’s, but he pulled me toward him. “Nope, you’re coming with me. We have other transportation.” He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, then led me out of the Quarry.
“You stole a unicopter? Are you nuts? Do you even know how to fly it?”
“I flew it here, didn’t I?” he said. “Once is plenty of pract—”
“Nope. Stop right there. I don’t even—” Before I could finish, his lips were on mine. The kiss sent sparks past my lips, down my throat, and into my chest. He ran his hands through my hair and cradled the back of my head. My knees buckled, and I fell into him. He caught me around the waist and lifted me upright. Rather than putting my feet on the ground, I wrapped my legs around him and let him hold me up. He ran his hand up my side as the kiss quickened.
An alarm went off inside my head, a little voice telling me, Three hours, three hours, three hours. I unwrapped my legs and dropped them to the ground. After one final deep, passionate kiss, I pulled away. For a moment, I studied his face, committing it to memory—his brilliant green eyes, his ruffled, brown hair, and his perfectly imperfect smile that always held more meaning behind it.
“You ready?” he asked softly.
I nodded, too afraid to speak. He pulled a pair of metal bands from the kit on the unicopter and slipped them on my wrists without locking them. He snuck a quick peck on the tip of my nose before helping me into the rear-facing seat and strapping me in. I watched over my shoulder as he climbed into the pilot’s seat. With a soft hum, the vehicle purred to life.
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