Mute (Muted Trilogy Book 1)

by Nikita Spoke

  "He has kids," sent Jemma, scrolling through his profile. "I wonder what made him risk sending those texts."

  "Maybe he's one of us, or maybe he's just a good person who saw a chance to avoid more people going missing. We don't really have a way to know right now."

  Jemma glanced around again to make sure nobody was approaching, then closed the Facebook profile, staring unseeing at the default desktop image. If she went missing, if they couldn't stop this, she wouldn't have people posting to her Facebook page. Her mom didn't care for public posts for anything important, and her dad avoided Facebook at all costs. Jilly read anything Jemma posted but typically avoided interacting publicly with her older sister. They would worry, though. Carolyn worried over so many things, and Jemma's complete disappearance would wreck her.

  Jack's father, too, would probably be worried. He had the person who took care of him when Jack wasn't there, but would he be able to function without Jack? What if the stress was too much for him?

  "We need to figure something out with our families," Jemma sent. "We can't just disappear, but we can't tell them what's going on."

  "Yeah, I've been thinking about that. I made arrangements for more help with Dad if I'm not there. They have my account information, so any extra charges from additional shifts, they won’t be a problem."

  "What are they going to think? If we can't stop this, if we go missing in the next few days or weeks..."

  As if on cue, Jemma's phone buzzed with a text from Carolyn.

  Okay. Is everything alright? I'd really like to see you.

  Jemma ran a hand through her hair and then looked up, jumping when she saw a patron ready to check out.

  “Sorry,” the woman typed with a small smile, “didn't mean to scare you.”

  Jemma forced a smile as she responded.

  “No worries! I wasn't paying attention like I should have been. Did you find everything okay?”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could help me find one more book.”

  Jemma quickly helped the patron locate the book, which had been misshelved nearby. She checked out the woman's books, then helped the next few people who had lined up at the circulation desk. By the time she was finished, the library had cleared out a bit, and it looked more like a normal Tuesday, with just a few people milling about, one patron parked solidly in front of the travel section.

  "We could take a trip," she sent Jack, tone laced with enthusiasm. "I mean, not really, but that's what we could say."

  Jack sent a lack of understanding.

  "If we tell our family we're, I don't know, taking a cruise, right? Or in another country where our phones won't work? That'll buy some time that they won't worry about us," she sent. "And then it'll make sense that you set up more helpers for your dad. It works."

  "That's brilliant. We tell them we're looking for last-minute tickets and might not get a chance to let them know them we're leaving."

  "Mom might be a little annoyed if I don't take a minute to send a text as we're leaving, but I'd rather her be a little annoyed than worried out of her mind." Jemma paused. "What do I tell work, exactly? I mean, I have to hope we'll be back eventually, and I don't want to burn any bridges."

  "Leave a note, somewhere Cecily doesn't usually look but would probably check if you didn't show for work. Do you have a cubby or something in the staff room?"

  "I do. I think that'll work." Jemma grabbed a piece of paper and a pen.

  Dear Cecily,

  Jemma stopped. "We're assuming we're going to be kidnapped, Jack." She felt the distress lacing her tone, but she didn't bother to disguise it. "I'm writing a letter so that my former boss doesn't worry if I disappear completely without warning. How is this okay?"

  "It's not okay," sent Jack, his tone holding frustration and reassurance. "We're going to do whatever we can to prevent it, but you're completely right that we need this all in place, just in case. It's smart, and it shows how much you care about people."

  "That's not something I hear a lot. I've been called cold more than once." Jemma tapped the pen against the paper to keep her hand from shaking.

  "You just interact a little differently than most. It doesn't mean you don't care. How you tried to comfort Kendall last night, how you help me when I'm upset? You care, more than many people do."

  She rubbed her arm with her free hand. "Okay," she sent finally, unsure how to respond. "I'm going to finish writing this, and then we need to figure out how we're going to keep anyone from ever needing to read it."

  Jack sent silent acknowledgment along with determination and something like affection, and Jemma focused her attention back on the mostly blank page, stopping before the pen touched paper.

  “I can’t do it,” she sent, finally. “We should still leave notes, I think, but I can’t… If we don’t come back, I can’t let a lie be my last communication with my family. It isn’t right.”

  “Fair point. But we still don’t think it’s safe to tell them the truth right now, right? And if we wait until after we’re gone, will the truth really make it easier on them?”

  “In the event that we… I think they need to know at least some of the truth, that we aren’t leaving because we want to, that we’re not disappearing indefinitely for fun.”

  “We could leave notes for our parents with the one for Cecily,” sent Jack. “But what do we write? How much do we say?”

  “Let me think a moment.”

  She tapped the pen against the counter, then resumed writing.

  If you’re reading this, Jack and I have vanished. We don’t want to give too much information in case it puts you or our families in danger, but we didn’t leave by choice.

  We don’t have enough information to go to the police, who aren’t able to help even when there is some proof, but we’re sure that we’re at risk.

  If we’re able to return, we will as soon as we can. I’m including letters for my family and for Jack’s father. Could you please deliver them? My parents’ address is on file, and Jack’s is in the patron records.

  Regretfully,

  Jemma

  Jemma put down the pen and covered her face, then ran both hands through her hair, taking a deep breath and releasing it. She relayed the message to Jack, who acknowledged it, and she got another sheet of paper.

  Mom, Dad, and Jilly,

  I’m sorry you’re reading this. Jack and I are gone, but we have reason to believe we’re okay, just not able to communicate. We didn’t tell you sooner because we didn’t want you to worry, and because we thought it would put you in danger. With us gone, though, they should leave you alone.

  I’m sorry I can’t say more.

  Love,

  Jemma

  She folded both letters, writing Cecily’s name on one and her parents’ names on the other.

  “My letter for Dad should be printing at the desk,” sent Jack, his mental tone lacking its usual energy. The printer started as if on cue. When it was done, she took that letter, too, folding it and addressing it to Don.

  “Got it,” she sent. “I’m going to put these away now.”

  Jemma checked to make sure nobody needed help, then she went to the staff room and put the letters in her cubby, writing face-down, placing a paperback she kept in her cubby atop the letters to keep them from blowing away and to ensure they weren’t read if they weren’t needed. She pulled out her phone as she walked back to the circulation desk, replying to her mother’s text before Carolyn could worry.

  We’re okay, Mom. We just have some things we need to do tonight.

  "Okay, Jack," she sent. "What can we do to make these just precaution? Any ideas?"

  “Well, there’s the blood bank,” he sent. “I’m not having any luck getting to it from here, but maybe…” He paused, some discomfort seeping through.

  Jemma’s phone buzzed. “One sec,” she sent, stopping to read the text.

  Okay. Come by soon, though, all right?

  We’ll try, replied Jemma. Love you.
>
  “What did you have in mind?” she sent Jack, setting her phone under the desk. “I’m getting the feeling I’m not going to like it.”

  “Probably not,” he agreed. “It isn’t something I would normally suggest, not something I’m really comfortable with myself.”

  “Just say it, Jack,” sent Jemma.

  “We can break into the blood bank and find their hardcopy files, giving us the other names and maybe even a reason for all this.”

  Jemma blinked and then closed her eyes. It wasn’t actually that much of a stretch, breaking in physically when they’d already been willing to break in digitally. Still, though, she felt much safer in the library than she would breaking and entering into a strange place.

  Perhaps not so surprisingly.

  “What do you think?” sent Jack, caution lacing his tone. “I’ve been trying to think of other options, any alternative other than doing nothing and just waiting to be taken as Kendall seems willing to do.”

  “I need to think this through a bit,” sent Jemma.

  “Of course.”

  “Speaking of Kendall, though, have you checked in on her today?” sent Jemma, rubbing her arm. “I know she said she would let us know when she was willing to talk, but…”

  “Not yet,” sent Jack. “I was wanting to check on her, too. Should we go ahead and do that?”

  “Yes, let’s.” Jemma focused on both Kendall and Jack. “Hey, Kendall, are you doing okay?”

  There was no response.

  “Kendall?” tried Jack.

  “I’m going to try just her,” sent Jemma, waiting for Jack’s acknowledgment before she tuned him out and focused on just her connection with Kendall.

  Or at least, she tried to.

  “I can’t find her, Jack. It’s like I know I’m knocking on the right door, but nobody’s there.”

  “Same. I can tell where her connection is, but I can’t… connect.” Jack’s tone was frustrated and worried.

  “Do you think she…” Jemma trailed off, taking a deep breath. “Either she’s blocking us or she’s been taken. This is what it felt like when Marcia’s connection cut out.”

  “We can check on her tonight,” sent Jack, “but I think we have to assume she was taken.”

  “That means we don’t have much time,” sent Jemma. “If they took Kendall, they have to know that we know everything she does. I don’t know why they haven’t taken us yet.”

  “We have to assume we’re on borrowed time,” sent Jack. “So what are we going to do with the time we have?”

  Jemma had never really had a good answer when asked what she would do if she knew it was her last day on earth. Some of her best options had included curling up with a good book on her parents’ couch while her family was nearby, spending the day in the library, or curling up alone with a book under a shady tree. Now she would probably want Jack around, too, but she didn’t really have time to examine that desire too closely. Instead, though she didn’t know whether it would be a full day or not, she was being presented with one of the few questions she’d never really known how to answer, and this time, it wasn’t rhetorical.

  How did she want to spend the rest of her time, knowing it was limited?

  She flashed through various scenarios before settling on the only answer that worked for her: she would spend the rest of her time trying to make sure it wasn’t the only time she had.

  “We’ll do it,” she sent finally. “We’ll take our chances and break into the blood bank.”

  “Shiny,” quoted Jack, his tone laced with desperation and hope and humor at his attempt to lighten the mood. “Let’s be bad guys.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT:

  Action

  “So how do we even go about starting to make a plan for this?” asked Jemma, pacing in front of Jack’s couch.

  Jack had eaten a quick dinner with his father before meeting Jemma where she waited at his house; they’d decided it wasn’t safe to completely split up, even during the day, and she’d felt guilty at the thought of eating dinner with his dad when she’d turned down the dinner invitation from her own parents.

  “We start with research, of course.” Jack seemed back to his normal self, in a relatively good mood considering what they were planning. Jemma stopped pacing and sat next to him, her arm resting against his as she looked at the screen on his laptop. “Okay, so here’s the tax assessor’s page for the building.” He scrolled through written descriptions, photos of the plot and the building itself, and what looked like a floor plan. “It doesn’t have as much information as there would be on a residential building. We can’t see interior walls, but we’ve both been in there. It was just a big room with cubicles, and a small office to one side, right?”

  Jemma sent a wave of agreement, then looked between the photos and the representation of the shape of the building. “Those back windows there, that’s where the office is.”

  “That’s what I’m thinking, too. That’s about where my initial planning ended, though. This isn’t exactly something I’ve ever come close to doing.”

  “Me neither.” Jemma scanned through the information on the page but didn’t see much that she didn’t already know. The building was one floor, standard height, carpet inside, slab foundation. “There are those big vent-type things that look like they’d be easy enough to get into, but they face the busier street, don’t they?”

  “Yeah,” replied Jack. “Plus I’m not sure what’s on the other side of them, whether we could get through into the building. There’s not likely a guard after hours. It closes at 6:30, so employees should be gone pretty soon.”

  “Are we doing this tonight?” asked Jemma.

  “Tonight or tomorrow night, if we think we can make it that long.”

  “Tonight probably gives us better chances.” Jemma sat back. “But that means we have no time to plan. If it was guarded, at least we might be able to just bribe someone. There’s an alarm, I’m guessing?”

  “More likely than not.” Jack navigated to Google Maps. “There’s a security sticker on a couple of the windows.”

  “What does an alarm do when it goes off? I mean, it makes noise, obviously, but who does it notify?”

  “Sometimes just the owner. Sometimes the security company or the police.”

  “We know the police are pretty overworked,” sent Jemma. “Would they respond to something like this?”

  “Maybe. Probably depends what else is going on.” Jack ran a hand through his hair.

  "Do you think we could just break a window, get what we need, and get back out before the police or anyone gets there?" asked Jemma.

  "It depends. Have a way to test it, though, maybe. I need to Google a bit more."

  Jemma watched as he ran through a list of terms quickly enough that she had trouble following, despite her well-above-average reading speed, running through information about alarm systems and radio signals.

  “Okay,” sent Jack. “So I read an article a couple years back, before one of the big computer conferences, that said most security systems were still using unencrypted radio waves that have been outdated for a while. If we had more time, I could probably get us in and out completely without anyone noticing. As it is, though, I think I’ve got the parts to put something together that’ll trigger a false alarm.”

  “Just once or do we get a few chances?”

  “It should work as many times as we need it to. We’ll have to be close, though,” he added. “Probably across the street at the furthest.”

  “There’s a Subway or something there, right?” Jemma pulled up the map on her phone. “So we go there and set off the alarm and see how long it takes someone to show up. Then we’ve got an idea of what we’re working with.”

  “Right,” sent Jack, beaming at her. “It gets better, too, if we keep setting it off. What would you do if your alarm kept going off and seemed like it was malfunctioning? On top of that, it’s a place without much in the way of high-risk valuables.”

/>   “Eventually I’d either shut the alarm off or just ignore it,” sent Jemma. “Also, even if the police come out, they’re not going to do it more than once.”

  “Exactly!” Jack’s eyes sparkled. “We do it until there’s no reaction or until we have a good idea of how much time we have inside.”

  “And do we… Is there a way to break in without actually breaking anything? Or are we going through one of those back windows where we’ll be hidden?”

  “I’m thinking the window might be best,” sent Jack. “Less chance of setting off some backup alarm before we’re even in there.”

  “All right. So that gets us inside and then back out. Do we know what, exactly, we’re looking for?”

  “Paperwork. That’s more your area, sorting, reading quickly. Hopefully the office isn’t a disaster and we can find what we need without too much issue.”

  Jemma nodded. “We can check under our names first, check for any sections kept apart from others. If it’s there and we have enough time, I’ll find it.”

  “Well, then that’s our plan. We’re doing this tonight?”

  She nodded again. “Seems like it makes the most sense.”

  “Okay,” sent Jack. “I’m gonna go get what I need to mess with the alarm system.”

  Jack exited the room, and Jemma was left with her thoughts. The whole situation seemed surreal. They were being watched and could potentially be captured for who-knew-what use, and now they were planning a break-in to get information. From a blood bank. There may not have been any vampires, but given the telepathy, it didn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to get firmly into the supernatural.

  Creatures of lore aside, though, she really was here planning to break into a building, and it didn’t quite feel like anything but a dream, like she was brainstorming for a story. Or maybe an episode of Buffy.