Killswitch

by Victoria Buck

  The man was right. Chase watched the hooded wannabe hero take the stairs three at time.

  “Come on, boss. Let’s go check the data. Maybe we can find something.” Mel took his hand and led him back into the command center.

  His mom had the same consoling smile she’d given him twenty-five years ago when he struck out in a Little League game. He started toward to her, but then focused instead on the monitors near the other side of the room. It wouldn’t do anything for these people’s confidence to see him running to his mommy.

  He’d gathered extensive data from the four WR VPads. A group assembled as he sat at a keypad to categorize the information. His mother joined them. Had she caught the way he’d avoided her? Her wink and half-smile said that she had and she wasn’t offended.

  “They can’t track me using traditional methods because of the exoself.” Chase leaned back and dropped his hands from the keys. “But I may have made a mistake.”

  “What mistake?” Amos asked.

  “I met up with my show’s producer in NYC. She found me there and I told her what I was doing—that I wanted to help the Underground Church. Not the smartest thing to say.”

  “You saw Kerstin?” Mel’s tone darkened. “Why would you tell her that? Why would you tell her anything?”

  “She was sick and I…” He hadn’t told these people, not even his mother, everything he could do. Of course, Mel knew. She was there when the scientists installed the device enabling him to detect illness simply by touching a person.

  “She needed a kidney, and I told her to go to Robert. Then I asked her to let me go. And she did.”

  Mel drew back from the crowd as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Was she angry with him for trying to save a life?

  “You told this woman you were coming here?” Amos didn’t overreact. The leader seemed like he could handle anything.

  “No. Just that I was going to try to find your group. She must have notified the Feds to look for anybody transporting believers. Your communication about moving goods and people is lacking security measures. But I can take care that.” Chase searched beyond the twenty or so people standing around him. Mel sat alone at a station, typing on a keypad. “If it’s not too late.”

  “How did they find Molly?” Mom asked.

  “A few questions in town led the deputies to a lady living in the outskirts who takes in strangers and frequents unregulated meetings. That made her a suspect to harboring believers.”

  Amos circled the group and poked a screen at another station. “She was one of only five believers in town who hadn’t joined us here. The ones up top are essential. The WR may have gotten all five. What a loss.” The man blinked his droopy blue eyes. “But…to die is gain.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Chase looked at Mel. “The incoming data doesn’t indicate anyone’s been killed.”

  But something was there in the communication between the agents and superiors. It wasn’t good. Chase kept his eyes on Mel until she looked at him.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “They’re on their way to a detention camp. All five of them. Somebody get in touch with Switchblade. You can do that, can’t you?”

  Amos pulled a VPad from the pocket of his brown vest.

  “Tell him not to go near Molly’s,” Chase said. “It’s a trap.”

  The leader prompted the call. “Might be too late.”

  3

  The hiders in Blue Sky Field had VPads. The church in Underground Atlanta had avoided them like snakes. Thanks to Mel, a techno-revolution was taking place in the underground. Authorities seeking to shut down the activities of the church could no longer track their use of electronics.

  Chase could process both sides of the conversation on any nearby VPad, and he listened in on the private call.

  Amos spoke first. “The upside believers are gone. Don’t go near Molly’s—they’re waiting for somebody to show up there.”

  “How do you know that?” Switchblade asked.

  “Chase says so. Get back here. That’s an order.”

  “That robot don’t know everything. I’ll just take a look. Nobody will know.”

  Chase grimaced. Robot? Let the thug get caught.

  Mel grabbed the VPad from Amos. She eyed Chase as if she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she did. Maybe she hadn’t told him she could read his mind.

  “Switch, he picked up on communication from above. If he says they’re gone, they’re gone. Get out of there.”

  Switch? How long had Mel been using a pet name for this guy? Chase crossed his arms and took three steps back. But the conversation continued. He could’ve stopped the transmission if he’d wanted to, but he didn’t.

  “OK, Melody. I’m coming.” Switchblade ended the call.

  This guy didn’t follow the orders of his leader, but Mel could turn him?

  Mel handed the VPad back to Amos. “Where are they?” she asked Chase. “Can we get them back?”

  “I’m working on it. There are three detention centers within seventy miles of here. One is for dissenters. One is for common criminals. The other one is a mix.” Chase dropped into a chair. The people, once again, gathered around him. His mother put her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve got it, or at least I know what’s on the report. I don’t know why they would try to trip us up—they don’t even know I can access their systems.”

  “What if Kerstin told them?” Mel’s voice carried a chill.

  “She doesn’t know everything.” Chase crooked his head toward Mel but didn’t make eye contact.

  “Maybe Fiender filled her in when she showed up for a transplant.”

  “He wouldn’t do that. Anyway, I don’t know that she even went to him. She could get a kidney elsewhere.”

  “Not like yours. That’s what you wanted for her. Right?” She moved closer, her arms folded tight.

  His eyes met hers. “There’s really no need for—”

  “For organic replacement. I know that.” Mel sat next to him and touched a large-screen VPad. “Show me where they are.” She pushed her curls behind her ears.

  Chase instructed the exoself to display a real-time view of the surrounding area. “Here.” He pointed to an intersection fourteen miles north.

  Mel touched the screen to zoom close to ground level. “I don’t see anything.”

  “WR satellite block. Trust me, it’s there.” Chase prompted a code—one of the codes Mel had hidden in the exoself. The image of the wooded area changed and a structure at the end of a dirt road filled the screen.

  “How did you do that?” Mel asked.

  “I used your code. You know, the four S’s.”

  “Sympathizers, supplies, secret houses, safe travel,” she said. “But Chase, the code connects the underground, and the underground is not connected to the WR, or to whatever satellite you just hacked. So how did you do it?”

  “The fourth S—code thirty-one, eight. To know if a location is safe, the exoself looks at it without a WR block. The code removes the block.” Chase’s gaze met Mel’s. “You know that. You wrote the code.”

  Mel touched a letter on the keypad and then rose to check one of the screen-free displays. The image of the detention center appeared. With one finger, she pulled it upward. A 3D image of the building hovered before her.

  Chase joined her at the display. Wire fence surrounded the complex. A transport vehicle headed out, and the large metal gate slid shut. After that, nothing moved. No sign of anyone on the ground.

  Mel seemed to study Chase. “I didn’t program you to remove a WR block. Thirty-one, eight should help us find safe passage. It will tell us who’s on the move, so to speak, within our own organization.”

  Chase shrugged. “You know more about this stuff than I do. After Robert put me in control of the exoself and shut down everything in me that allowed WR monitoring, he said I wouldn’t have access to government systems. But I do. I don’t know how or why. All I know is I used that code and the block lift
ed.”

  She focused on the display.

  A smaller building stood to the right and rear of the main structure. “What do you know about the first code, Mel? Thirty-two, seven. What was your intent when you programmed me?”

  “To hide you. It’s the reason you can’t be tracked.”

  “Yeah, and so far it’s worked. I hope.” He lowered his voice. “But did you know it’s a weapon? It not only hides me, it protects me. To the death of anyone who threatens me. I don’t even have to the pull the processor. The exoself does it without any instruction from me.”

  “Chase, that crazy.” Mel’s eyes narrowed. “The exoself is a computer. You’re the one who tells it what to do.”

  “Maybe that’s the way it started.” Chase touched the display and rotated the main building. “But I think, in order to protect itself, it will do whatever it has to do to make sure I’m safe.” He glanced at his mom. Worry lines marked her gentle face. The people here called her Birdie, because she liked to sing. She wasn’t singing now.

  He looked at the screen. “I couldn’t do all this before I got to Atlanta. It started when I unlocked your code, Mel. And it’s getting better, faster.”

  Mel put her hands on either side of her head. “OK, we’ll talk about this later. Right now we need to figure out if there is any way we can get our people out of this place.”

  “I can dissolve the walls on this image. Do you want to know what’s going on inside?”

  Mel’s eyes widened. “You can see through walls?”

  “Not exactly. I can see through a satellite image of a wall because that’s what the satellite can do.”

  “And you can do this with my code?”

  “Same one—safe travel.” Chase pulled the code again and the image changed, slower this time, to reveal the rooms inside the main building.

  The five detainees lined up before a man wearing WR police garb. No sound. By the way the man pointed and waved his right hand in his captives’ faces, he must be yelling.

  Molly stood in the middle, a tall man and young woman on her right, two teen boys on her left. None of them moved. Their mouths remained shut. Their hands were behind their backs.

  “Chase, what do you think will happen to them?” his mother asked.

  “If anything gets entered into the database at the compound, I can intercept it. For now we can only watch.”

  Mel touched the little building in the back and pulled it forward. “What’s in here? Why can’t we see into it?”

  Something inside him told Chase not to look. But he pulled the code and the walls faded.

  Groans sounded behind him.

  “That’s enough, Chase.” Amos touched the top right corner of the display and it went black.

  “I had a bad feeling,” Chase said, “but I wasn’t expecting this.”

  4

  Monitors sparked to life as people got to work on different tasks. Some calculated the average time a detainee was held in a center when there were no formal charges. Others mapped various routes to the location holding the five believers. Chase continued to read the communication passing between the WR henchmen who’d intruded on the little town above his head. Nobody said a word about the device in the outer building.

  Mel had left the room. Chase tracked her location to a computer in her private quarters. Mom was gone too. A few people moved about on the far side of the complex. Only Amos and Chase were left in the center.

  “I don’t think they’ll be released.” Amos shook his head.” At least not any time soon.”

  “I know. A week ago they might have been. But now—”

  “Now they’re taking these things more seriously.”

  Chase put his elbows on the desk and rubbed his forehead. “Now they’re looking for me.”

  “I didn’t say that.” The leader of the underground sat next to Chase. “I didn’t even think it. If the authorities thought they’d make contact with you, they’d let them go.”

  Chase leaned back in the chair. “It started a few days ago—Christians being detained like this. Even when I was in Atlanta, the cops let a girl go the same day they took her in. But the data shows that hasn’t been the norm recently.”

  “How many arrests have you tracked since you left Atlanta?”

  “Over 200. Just three of those have been released.”

  “Heaven help us,” Amos said. “What was so special about the three who were released?”

  “I only know what gets put in the reports—names and locations. At least I can tell you where they got arrested. By now, could be they’ve gone underground.”

  Amos flashed a quizzical look. “Yes, hopefully the three are in hiding.” He rose and slipped his hands into his jeans’ rear pockets. “But maybe not. Tell me their names.”

  Chase pulled the information from the exoself. “All men, all arrested and then released in NYC. Nathan Gaines, Jack Oakley, and Gunner Ramos. Ring any bells?”

  “The first two, no. The last one is a supplier.”

  Chase pulled the code and found the name. And some history. “He used to be a preacher. Arrested seven times for fraud and money laundering. Lost his tax exemption long before every other church did. Now he’s supplying the underground. Making up for past sins?”

  “Why would the Feds let him go when they’re holding 200 other believers in detention centers?”

  “I wish I could tell you. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it—about any of this. I’m just an endless supply of information.”

  “Are you having second thoughts about joining our cause?”

  Chase was supposed to be here—he was programmed to help and protect these people. But how could he get five people out a detention center? What about the other 200 being held by the WR? How many more were there around the world? He didn’t even want to know.

  He pushed away from the gleaming white desktop.

  “What’s wrong?” Amos asked. “Chase, you can’t give up.”

  “Don’t you people pray or something when the odds are against you?”

  “I’m praying right now.”

  Chase looked Amos in the eyes, and something coursed through the exoself. The men who were released all had the same series of numbers after theirs names. 0043250. Chase ran WR detention center manuals. In seconds, he had the answer. “They’re not believers.”

  “What are you talking about?” Amos asked.

  “The three men who got released. Their activity in the underground is a ruse. They work for the government. They got picked up by mistake—they were with a group that got arrested. When the WR checked them out, they let them go.”

  “Chase, can you—”

  “I’m attaching the release code to the five who were taken in this morning.”

  “You think those officials are going to believe that all five are informants? Three of them are just kids.”

  “Do you have a better idea?” Chase took his seat at the desktop and pulled the code. The monitor showed the detention center. “There are four officials at the facility. They’re all low-level guards. They see a release code come up in their orders, they let the five go. At least, that’s what I hope will happen.”

  “Give it a try,” Amos said.

  Chase pulled a code and the exoself opened the system. Footsteps made him glance sideways. Switchblade. Back from town. Safe and sound.

  “Melody says we got five trapped in some stinkin’ center. You gonna get them out with your super powers?” Switchblade pulled off his sunglasses.

  “I’m working on it. Go get Mel. I need her help.”

  “I’ll get her,” Switchblade said. “But what are you doing for the five?”

  “Attaching a code to their names that will tell the officials they’re WR snitches, not believers.”

  “That’s the most asinine plan I’ve heard in long time.” The man’s broad shoulders lifted as he wheezed out a laugh. “When…If they get out, the Feds are gonna tap them for information. They’ll be fo
rced to work against us.”

  “Have a little faith, Switch.” Chase smiled.

  “Faith—what do you know about that? And don’t call me Switch, Charlie.” He bulldozed his way between the tightly positioned computer stations.

  Mel returned within a minute, Switchblade right behind her, and sat at the station. “Why is it that you can get in on WR transmissions and send out information to the underground, but you can’t just send a message to my VPad?”

  “The exoself doesn’t allow me to communicate directly with individuals. I think it has trust issues. I was permitted to send one message to Robert, but that’s all.”

  “That’s just crazy, boss. Trust issues? The exoself is not a person.” She shook her head. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I’m attaching a code to the names of the detainees. I know Molly, but not the rest of them. Tell me their names and I’ll pull their histories. Then go to the first S—sympathizers. We’ll feed in some phony backstories.”

  “Haven’t the Feds already seen their profiles?” Mel asked. “Why doctor the information now?”

  “They’re just getting started. Orientation stuff. The Feds haven’t reviewed them individually. But we have to hurry.”

  “Got it,” Mel said. “We’ll start with Molly. Last name Bedél.”

  “Native of the area. Raised by Christians.” Chase studied the same profile the officials would soon read. Then he added something. “She got kicked out of the local church before it shut down. Supported government sanctions forbidding distribution of literature. After that, she became an agent of the WR.”

  “Oh my,” Amos said. “We’re going to lie our way through this?”

  “You’re not lying, I am,” Chase answered. “And I’m allowed to lie. Right? I’m a sinner.”

  “Son, we’re all sinners. We just don’t feel good about it.”

  “I feel good about getting these people free, so I’m going feed to lies to the bad guys,” Chase said. “I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

  “Second name, Finley Moreau,” Mel said. “She’s eighteen. Also a native. Her parents are not believers. Molly’s influence brought her in.”