by Tam Linsey
Moving carefully between the leaves, she looked for another door. Sweat rolled down her back beneath her hoodie in the muggy heat. At the back wall, she found two office doors. She turned the knob on the one to the right, pleased when it swung open and doubly pleased at the whir of a running computer. A wiggle of the mouse woke the screen, showing the progress of a data process. Good. She wouldn’t have to hack in to upload the virus. With a few keystrokes, she aborted the program and inserted the flash drive, overriding the protocols the way Trevor had taught her. The machine hummed again as it accepted the new code.
The constant drone of the fans ceased. She smiled, but then a chirruping beep—more alert than alarm—filled the greenhouse. From the main room, Trevor shouted, “Alarm! Get out now!”
She clenched her teeth. Dammit, of course there was an alert on the climate controls. She would’ve thought of that if Trevor had given her a chance to plan. But they’d been out of time; tomorrow, the Coalition would be announcing a call to protest, and once that happened, the company would increase security or move the tests to a new facility. The corporation couldn’t be allowed to keep its data.
Only twenty more seconds to complete the upload. She drummed her gloved fingers on the desktop. She couldn’t leave the flash drive behind as evidence. Ten seconds. Another, much louder alarm joined the first—a burglar alarm. Someone must’ve opened the main door.
The computer screen flashed once, telling her the transfer was complete. She yanked the drive free and dashed back the way she’d come. Careening through the room with the towering plants, she underestimated a turn, and the weight of the gas can in her pack threw her off balance. She slammed into the high stalks, toppling several over. The flash drive flew from her gloved grip amid a volley of falling leaves.
She regained her balance, heart in her throat. If she stayed to search in the dark, she’d be caught for sure. On trembling legs, she bolted for the door. Her feet tangled on a fallen stalk, and she fell, landing on her outstretched palms. Fallen leaves and crushed paper bags rustled against her face as she scrambled upright and kept going.
She veered left toward the exit. Behind her, Cindy’s footsteps slapped against the concrete. “Sorry. I didn’t know they’d have an alarm on the climate system.”
Jaide shook her head, breathing too hard to reply. Cold air blasted the sweat from her face as she burst out into the moonlight. Ahead, Trevor’s form scrambled over the top of the six-foot chain-link fence. In a few more steps, she hit the cold metal and dug her toes into the gaps to hoist herself up and over, Cindy right beside her.
They caught up to Trevor as he crossed the dirt road, and together they ducked into a windbreak along the neighboring field.
“That was close,” Trevor whispered. Frozen branches crackled underfoot as they crept along in the dark. At least there was no snow in which to leave tracks. They’d parked nearly a mile away and had planned their escape via Google Earth. This line of trees would lead them straight to their car on the other side. Jaide had to scramble to keep up with Trevor’s long strides.
Cindy fell behind, mincing through the leaves like a timid deer. “Did you get the virus uploaded?”
“I didn’t have time to hack in,” said Trevor.
Jaide shot Trevor a glare he couldn’t see in the dark. “I did. Barely.” Her elation at finding an open computer was bittersweet. ”But I lost the flash drive.”
He stopped walking. “You what?”
She stopped, too, and turned back his direction. “It flew out of my hand while I was escaping. I couldn’t see in the dark.”
Trevor threw his hands into the air. “Well, that’s just great,” he hissed, steam rising from his mouth in the moonlight. Behind him, a police siren wailed. He thrust his hands back into his pockets and shoved past her. “Jesus Christ, I should’ve handled it all myself.”
Jaide’s temperature rose in spite of the icy air. “Well, the police wouldn’t be arriving quite so soon if you hadn’t busted through the main doors. The climate alarm would’ve only alerted the greenhouse manager.”
Cindy caught up and slid an arm through Jaide’s, hugging herself close as they walked. “They must sell tens of thousands of those drives at every outlet mall across the country, right?”
Jaide nodded. She didn’t want to think about FBI cybercrimes technology at the moment. She just wanted to put the greenhouse behind her and get back to her daughter and her normal life. “Yeah, we just need to lay low.”
“And destroy my computer and everything on it,” Trevor added over his shoulder. “The FBI can hash the ID from every file on the drive and trace it back to the source. Thanks a lot.” His anger radiated like heat through the darkness.
“You’re the one who insisted we had to take the risk,” said Jaide.
Trevor blew out a sharp breath and picked up his pace, leaving her and Cindy behind.
Jaide clutched Cindy tighter and stumbled through the darkness.
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Acknowledgments
A special thank you to my wonderful critique partners, who weathered my ups and downs, and were never afraid to be honest with me; Jennifer Bernard, Molly Gray, Brooke Hartman, Kellie Doherty, Mike Robbins, Louise Willis, and Lizzie Newell. I’d also like to thank my amazing editor, Joann Dominik, for telling me what a sick imagination I have, and still loving my book.
Books by Tam Linsey
Botanicaust
The Reaping Room
Doomseeds
Amarantox
About the Author
Tam Linsey is a lifelong Alaskan who is obsessed with self-sufficiency. In spite of the rigors of living in the High North, she grows, hunts, or fishes for much of her family’s food needs. She believes that we should have the right to choose what we eat, and therefore is also a GMO labeling advocate (not to be confused with a GMO opponent.) When she is not writing, she’d probably in the garden or the kitchen, exploring Alaska with her husband, or preparing for the zombie apocalypse. She also loves wine and hard apple cider, is mediocre at crochet, and has an adorable 12-pound bunny named Abigail.
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Contents
Foreword
Book Description
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Glossary
Amarantox Sneak Peek!
Acknowledgments
Books by Tam Linsey
About the Author