A nobody.
"Up ahead," I said to Rogan. "Number Three Fifty-eight."
He led the way without questioning me again. We'd tucked our guns into our waistbands. The black of the weapon blended against the black of our Countdown-supplied outfits. The cold metal against my skin gave me a meager sense of calm, although it didn't help my heart to stop beating as fast as it was. It felt so loud that I was sure the people passing us would be able to hear it.
Just before we reached the address, a man stepped in front of us. I felt Rogan tense up as he blocked our way and gave us a huge smile.
"You two look like fun people," he said.
"Get out of our way," Rogan growled.
"Now, now, I have something you might be interested in."
"What is it?" I asked, my voice strained.
He produced a trifold flyer printed on light blue paper. "Have you been wanting to get away? Want to figure out how to finagle a seat on the Offworld shuttle while you're on a working-class budget? Well, I have just the thing for you right here."
"Not interested," Rogan said. "Get yourself and your scam away from us."
"Scam? Not even slightly. In my course I will give you the top ten ways to get to Offworld and away from it all. There are always other options, other solutions. Just picture it: sun, sand, green grass for miles around. A perfect place for a perfect life, Offworld is. And you can get there with my help."
"It's a course?" I asked, feeling oddly disappointed.
"Yes. It's called Ten Weeks to Paradise. Five hundred dollars and you, too, can realize your dreams." He thrust the flyer at me.
"Not interested." Rogan's hand tightened at my waist. "Get out of our way. I'm asking you for the last time."
The man cleared his throat and withdrew another flyer from his inner jacket pocket. "Not interested, I can understand that. Perhaps a vacation a little closer to home? I can provide you with a steady supply of Kerometh to make every day a holiday-"
Rogan pushed him out of our way and we started walking again.
"Scumbags," Rogan said under his breath. "I almost forgot they're found outside of prison as well as inside."
I looked wistfully back at the man. How many people had he conned into taking his course that gave no promises? He just preyed on the dreams of the people stuck here. People like me.
Not that I ever would have had five hundred bucks to spend on a course.
I pushed those thoughts out of my head as we closed the distance between us and our destination. The numbers 358 were carved out of gold, very large above the door.
"What is this place?" Rogan asked.
I tried the door and was surprised when it swung open at my touch. We slipped inside and closed it behind us. The noise from the street outside vanished. We were now in an unadorned hallway lit only by the small window on the outer door. I felt Rogan's hand close around my own and squeeze reassuringly, and we began to move along the passageway.
"This is supposed to be a safe house," I whispered. "Someone … someone reliable told me about it."
"Reliable? Who?"
"I'll explain more in a minute. Come on."
Every time I'd mentioned Gareth I'd been overheard and stopped. I knew that the cameras were long gone- otherwise we wouldn't have made it this far-but I wasn't prepared to risk it. Not yet.
The passage went along straight for about twenty feet and then turned sharply to the right. It was as if the front of the house that faced Paragon Avenue were just a facade.
Finally, ahead of us, there was a modest amount of light. Luckily we hadn't been walking in complete darkness, because I wouldn't have been able to function as well as I was in this half-light.
"Sorry my hands are sweating," I whispered.
"So are mine. Mostly because you won't tell me what the hell's going on."
"If I knew for sure, I'd tell you."
"Yeah, that's reassuring."
Ahead of us was another door. It was red and it had a doorbell next to it. On the door were the numbers 358 again. I assumed this was the true front of the safe house. At least, I sincerely hoped so.
"Now what?" Rogan asked.
I bit my bottom lip so hard I thought I'd draw blood. Then I raised my hand and pressed the bell. The sound of a buzzer was deafening.
I half expected the door to swing inward into darkness and some monster to appear, grabbing us and dragging us inside.
But nothing happened. Absolutely nothing.
We waited in silence for five full minutes.
"Okay," Rogan said then. "So how long should we wait here? And what exactly are we waiting for? I'm trying to be patient, Kira, really I am. But you'll excuse me if I'm not feeling all that calm at the moment."
I turned to face him and put a hand on his chest. I could feel his heart beating rapidly beneath my fingers.
And I told him. Everything I could about his brother. Everything I'd learned from my flex that slid down into the part of Gareth that still existed past the virus that had taken him over. How he'd slipped this address into my mind at the last moment. How nothing he'd done was his fault, but the fault of the artificial intelligence computer program that had been screwed up by a virus and had taken over his implant.
Rogan listened to me in silence, his expression like stone. When I was finished I waited for his reaction.
It took a moment.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked quietly.
"I tried to… on the roof after Mac and Kurtis … just a little while ago before the room split. They were listening. They didn't want me to tell you, so they wouldn't let me."
He nodded solemnly. "I see."
"So your brother didn't really sell you out. He didn't abandon you. He's not in control of what he's doing."
His forehead creased into a deep frown. "It must have happened when I tried to destroy the computers four years ago. The power outage… it must have sparked something in Gareth's prototype implant… and if there was a virus in the AI programming at the time …"
I watched the different emotions play on Rogan's face: disbelief to anger to the slow, steady realization that this was what had truly happened. That everything began to make sense in his terrible past.
"You know, all this time I thought I'd wasted all that money in artificial intelligence research. I only did it for the game in the first place." He laughed, and it was a hollow sound. "Shit. Be careful what you wish for, right? I'm the one who invented the thing that killed my brother and ruined my life."
I shook my head. "But Gareth's not dead. He's still in there somewhere. He's the one who told me to come here. He wants you to be safe."
His eyes shifted back and forth as he tried to process all of this information. "Jonathan must have known. Of course. He was the main researcher in the AI programming. Maybe he was the one who added the virus to the mix. I don't know. He is Gareth's right-hand man now. And he didn't raise a finger to help me when I was in prison."
I touched his face and made him look at me. "But he gave you the antidote for the poison in your shoulder."
He frowned. "Yeah, that he did. If he hadn't I would have been dead by now; I have no doubt about that. Gareth wants me out of the way, but he wanted to play with me a bit first." He laughed that hopeless laugh again. "Guess he was afraid I might try to pull the plug on him again."
"I read Jonathan and I felt only honesty from him. If he's doing what Gareth wants, then it's against his will."
"I have faith in your abilities, Kira, but there might be a way for him to fool you. I'm … I'm just worried that you may have read Gareth wrong, too. Maybe this is a trap."
I swallowed. "Don't say that."
He looked at the door again, at the buzzer I'd pressed almost ten minutes ago. "We need to get out of here right now. There are other places we can hide." He reached around to the back of his head. "Shit. I wish we didn't have these implants. It won't be long before they'll be able to pinpoint our location down to the square foot. Th
ey must have some precautions set up in case competitors manage to escape-some sort of alternate plan. We can't stay in one place for too long."
I looked at the door again, and my high hopes for something miraculous to happen began to wane. "Dammit. Maybe you're right."
He reached down and took my hand in his. "There's only one person I'm going to trust, Kira, and it's you. I hope you feel the same way about me."
I nodded, and he leaned forward to kiss me lightly on my lips. The warmth of his mouth burned through the chill I was feeling.
I trusted him. I did. More than anybody in the world.
We turned back to the passageway just as we heard the door leading to the street slam shut and heavy footsteps begin to approach.
"Somebody's coming." Rogan pulled his gun out of his waistband.
I reached for my own gun.
Just then I heard a popping sound, and something in the back of my head began to tick.
A metallic voice spoke up: "Unable to detect implant signal. Please return to the proper signal range. Not complying will result in implant self-destruction in ten minutes. Countdown begins now."
I looked at Rogan with wide eyes. There was a gleam of sweat on his brow. He raised an eyebrow. "Just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"
"What do we do now?"
"Get your gun out and aim. Let's deal with one thing at a time."
I ignored the ticking in my brain and fumbled at my gun. I was out of bullets, but whatever was coming didn't know that. I gripped the weapon in both hands and pointed it at the half darkness of the hallway. Shit. I hoped Rogan still had ammo. The footsteps increased in speed and volume until finally somebody appeared in front of us. He was also holding a gun.
Jonathan. He was dressed in dark pants and a long-sleeved shirt but wasn't wearing his white coat at the moment. His forehead was shiny with sweat.
"Drop your weapons!" he commanded.
"You first," Rogan snarled.
"Rogan, you need to do as I say and drop your weapon."
"Not exactly taking orders from you right now, asshole. I will pull this trigger and waste you."
Jonathan's gun shifted in my direction. "You shoot me and I'll shoot her."
Rogan's breathing increased. "Don't even think about it."
"Jonathan," I said. "How did you know we were here?"
He was sweating. "Are you going to listen to reason, Kira? Or are you going to be stubborn like Rogan?"
"Well, since you just threatened to shoot me, I'm not so sure what I'm going to do."
I studied him for a moment, holding my useless gun so tightly that it began to cut into my skin. I remembered when I used my flex on him. He gave the distinct impression of being honest and truthful, but there was a ton of guilt mixed in. Despite all the lies I knew he'd told, my gut was still insisting that he wasn't one of the bad guys.
"What are you guilty of, Jonathan?" I asked. "Answer me that right now."
My question surprised him, I could see it in his expression, but he didn't lower his gun. "Guilty? I'm guilty of a lot of things. I don't even know where to begin."
"But you feel bad about what you've done."
His expression darkened. I noticed that his gun was trembling slightly. "I feel bad. That's why I'm here. That's why you need to hear me out. There's no time. You have to trust me."
I stared at him for a moment longer, then dropped my gun and held my hands out before me.
"Kira, what the hell are you doing?" Rogan growled.
'Trusting my instincts."
"Your instincts are going to get you killed."
Jonathan's gun was still trained on me, and I eyed it warily. I felt a line of perspiration slide down my spine.
"Consider that a show of faith," I told him. "Now talk."
"Your implants have probably started their self-destruct countdown, haven't they?" he asked. When neither of us confirmed it, despite the constant ticking I was dealing with and the recent notice that there were eight minutes left, he continued. "I was notified the moment you escaped the game and moved out of network range." A smile twitched on his lips. "Well played, by the way. Well played."
"No thanks to you," Rogan said, every word coated in venom.
Jonathan licked his lips nervously. "I've done what I can. I healed you, Rogan. I healed Kira's leg after the shooting. I prevented the other men from abusing Kira just before the reward level." He raised an eyebrow at me. "They aren't terribly fond of you anymore."
"I'm sorry to hear that." Sarcasm dripped from my voice.
"So they know you've escaped. They know you must still be in the city."
Rogan glared at him. "And let me guess. You've notified them that we're here. Isn't that convenient."
Jonathan shook his head. "No. They don't know. I'm the only one who knows you're here."
'Then I strongly suggest that you drop your weapon," Rogan said again. "Right now."
"I want to help you, Rogan, but I'm also quite concerned for my own well-being. Can you understand that?"
"More than you know. I was fairly concerned with my own well-being the four years I was in prison."
Jonathan winced. "Some things were unfortunately unavoidable."
"Yeah, unfortunate. That's a word. Now lower your weapon away from Kira, or I swear to God I'm going to fill you with enough holes that you'll be able to see out of your own ass."
I almost laughed at that. Obviously I was just short of hysterical.
"I don't think Jonathan wants to hurt us." I reached out to touch Rogan's arm.
He flinched and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. "Why, because of your instincts?"
"Yeah."
"Not good enough."
"Fine." Jonathan let out a loud sigh of exasperation. "There's simply no time for this." He bent over and placed his gun on the ground. Rogan stormed toward him and grabbed his arm, swinging him around to push him up against the wall next to the door. He pressed his gun against Jonathan's head.
"Now tell me why you're here."
"I'm here"-Jonathan's words were partially muffled by the fact that his face was squashed against the wall- "because you pressed the buzzer."
"Which means what?" Rogan snapped.
"The buzzer is connected to a device I wear at all times. It informs me if someone has found the safe house your brother had me set up three years ago."
Rogan grabbed Jonathan's shirt and swung him back around roughly. "Explain more."
"Your brother is not himself. There was an accident."
"I know."
"You know?" Jonathan's eyes widened. "You know about the virus in the artificial intelligence program that took over his implant?"
"Old news."
"How long have you known this?"
"About ten minutes. But I'm ready for something that will actually help us right now."
Jonathan's chest heaved. "Then you may not know that there were times in the beginning when the real Gareth was able to come forth and give instructions without the virus knowing. He attempted to stop what was happening. In the end he lost the battle for control of his body, but he was able to do some small things, such as set up this safe house for worthy contestants who wanted to escape. You are the first to have made it this far."
"Six minutes until implant self-destructs," the tinny, metallic voice in my head announced.
Rogan looked at me, and I could see the strain in his face.
"We need these implants out," he said.
Jonathan sighed. "Yes, you need them out or you're going to die. Now take your damn hands off of me and come inside so I can get to work."
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Rogan still had his gun held up defensively as Jonathan unlocked the door and touched the light pad inside before hurrying into the small house.
"Come with me immediately," Jonathan said before he disappeared into another room through a narrow archway.
"Five minutes remain until implant self-destructs."
> With that announcement I began to feel a small burning sensation at the back of my head, and I was again reminded of what was left of Mac's body on the roof after his implant exploded. I shuddered at the memory and followed Jonathan into the next room, a kitchen with a stove, refrigerator, and long wooden table.
"Sit there." He nodded at a single chair to the side of the table.
I didn't argue and did what he said, easing myself onto the hard, unyielding wooden chair.
Jonathan produced a piece of fabric, which he unrolled on the table in front of me. There were several silver medical instruments, all very sharp, all very dangerous-looking.
"If you hurt her-" Rogan warned.
"If you keep distracting me with that gun, I may do just that by accident." Jonathan had a syringe in his hand, and he filled it with a small amount of clear liquid from a tiny glass vial. "There's no time to put you completely under, Kira, so a local anesthetic will have to do."
I eyed him uneasily.
"Wait." I held up my hand as he approached. "Rogan, didn't you say that the implant will detonate if removed improperly?"
Before Rogan could say anything, Jonathan replied instead. "That's absolutely true. However, I am one of the very few people trained in removing such devices properly. But you must hold still and stop talking."
Okay, so even though Jonathan had lied to me several times, I was putting my life in his hands because I had a "hunch" he was a decent person. Was that enough?
Dammit. It had better be. There weren't any other choices at the moment.
"Put the gun down!" Jonathan commanded Rogan. "Or I won't do this at all."
I glanced at Rogan, who met my gaze. Finally, the muscles in his arms flexing, he lowered the gun and placed it on the counter next to the stove. His expression didn't change from that of menace. I knew if Jonathan made one wrong move, then Rogan would reach over and break his neck.
Countdown Page 16