Audio Assault

by Jeff Adams

  “Send it over and I’ll take care of it today.”

  The camp was at Lake Placid, home of one of the best hockey games ever played. Going to camp with Mitch would be awesome and the perfect thing to do with your best friend before senior year started.

  “We’re gonna have a blast,” he said.

  “No doubt.”

  I GOT home to an empty house in the early afternoon. Mitch and I had an extremely long breakfast, and I suspected I wouldn’t need to eat until at least dinner. Mom and Dad were actually out running errands as they didn’t have a new assignment yet. John also took a few days off.

  I headed upstairs to work on the project I’d promised to finish. There were code enhancements to make for some of the lenses’ functionality, mostly around stability for the video when there was a lot of movement.

  I worked until a notification flashed that the garage door was opening. Since my room was soundproofed for security purposes, I had set alerts for the garage, the doorbell and other things that might need attention.

  I headed downstairs to see who was home.

  Mom walked into the kitchen with groceries and mail in her hands.

  “There’s more bags in the trunk. Would you mind grabbing them?” she asked as she put down what she had on the counter.

  “Sure thing.”

  I made quick work of bringing in the last three bags.

  “Looks like you plan to be around for a while.”

  “Yeah. We decided to go inactive for a week.”

  I made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a grunt. “You’re not doing this because of me, are you?”

  She paused putting away cans in the cupboard and looked at me with one of her patented Mom looks. “I won’t even try to convince you otherwise. You can’t expect us to push aside what happened to you.”

  I nodded and went over to her and gave her a hug, leaning my head against her shoulder. “I both love and hate that you’re doing it.”

  She leaned her head against mine, and it was comforting.

  “There’s some mail for you,” she said when we separated.

  Snail mail for me? I preferred to keep communication electronic.

  This was a small beige envelope about the size of a greeting card on top of other mail. For a second I thought maybe one of my grandparents had sent something.

  The very neat block letter printing could only have come from one person, though.

  “No way.” The words escaped before I could stop them.

  “What is it?” Mom came over to look.

  I debated if I should just pocket it and play it off as nothing or share it. This would have to go to TOS for full analysis. The postmark was from somewhere I’d never heard of in Washington state.

  A freak-out was distinctly possible. It felt like my heart was being squeezed. I sat down at the counter.

  “It’s from Eddie.”

  I gripped the sides of the envelope like it might try to fly away.

  The garage door rumbled again. Dad was home.

  “Are you sure?” Mom leaned in closer.

  “I’d recognize this print anywhere.”

  “It’s nice coming home to find everyone here,” Dad said.

  He sounded in a good mood. We watched as he put his messenger bag on the table. I spun fully around on the stool and held up the letter.

  “It’s from Eddie.”

  He joined us. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  “We should treat this as evidence,” Mom said. “I’ve got gloves here. We should protect it if you choose to open it.”

  She went to a kitchen drawer and pulled out some surgical gloves that we kept on hand for raw meat or hot peppers.

  “I have to know.” I put on the gloves, and Dad gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  “We’ll give you a minute,” Mom said.

  I nodded. I was more nervous than I’d been in a long time.

  I got the paring knife and carefully sliced across the top of the envelope, making sure not to disturb the postmark. Did he pick out the stamp with the history of hockey on it? Was it a message? Or just the randomness of the post office?

  The single piece of paper inside matched the envelope, and I was reminded again of my grandmothers who both had stationery sets. I couldn’t imagine where Eddie would’ve picked this up. The note had the same print as the envelope.

  I have no way to know if you’ll actually read this. You might see the envelope, recognize the writing, and just turn it over to TOS.

  Please know that I’m sorry. Everything got so complicated, but I had no choice. I know you understand that part. Orders are orders.

  You weren’t always a mission. We met and fell in love while I was a normal guy going to school. You’ll always be the first boy I loved. And I’m sure I’ll always regret that we won’t get to try for the future we’d planned.

  I know you’re trying to find me. And if you’re not personally, TOS is. Please don’t. Which I say knowing full well that someone will try even if it’s not you.

  I can’t imagine how angry and hurt you are, and I hate that I did this to you. I hope you’ll find a way to just remember me as your first love like you will always be for me.

  Love always,

  Eddie

  There was no stopping the tears. They flowed on their own. At least I wasn’t sobbing. I made sure not to drip on the letter.

  I lived every day with the anger and hurt he mentioned. But, I couldn’t deny he would always be the first boy I loved—and still did. I’d probably never forgive him, but I would always love what we’d had.

  I folded the paper and slid it back into the envelope. Grabbing a paper towel, I dabbed at my eyes, but the weeping continued.

  My parents were in their office with the door open, so I went in. They were at their desks talking quietly, but they stopped as I approached.

  “Please send this wherever it has to go.” I placed the letter on the desk between them.

  “You okay?”

  I appreciated that Dad’s first question wasn’t about what the letter said.

  The only thing that would’ve been more surprising than the letter would’ve been if he’d called.

  “I guess. He said what he had to say. I don’t have a way to respond, so it is what it is.”

  I dropped onto the couch opposite their desks. No one spoke for a few minutes. The letter must’ve surprised them as much as it did me.

  “I want to go to hockey camp with Mitch if that’s okay. I’ll finish up the project with Lorenzo and then take his advice to go inactive.”

  As if it was choreographed, they got up together and came over. Dad’s took the opposite end of the couch, and Mom sat in the adjacent chair.

  “That’s a great idea,” Mom said.

  “Absolutely.” Dad looked pleased.

  “Thanks. It’ll be awesome to get away with him.”

  “Let us know if you need us to do anything like sign paperwork,” Mom said. “I’m so glad you decided to do this.”

  “Me too. There’ll be enough breaks that I’ll still be able to do what I committed to for Dr. Shorofsky so I’ll be on track for MIT in the fall. We’ll get back right before Labor Day.”

  Mom patted my hand and smiled more. She tried not to overdo the mom thing.

  “I should get back to work.” I also needed to think about the note.

  “Okay. We’ll be around. John’s coming over tonight. We were thinking family movie night.”

  “Sounds great. That’ll be nice. We haven’t all done that in a long while.”

  I stood, hugged them both, and went back upstairs.

  I’d already planned to cut back over the summer so Eddie and I could spend more time together. But now it was time to turn TOS off for a while.

  Hockey camp would help put aside all things Eddie. Mitch wouldn’t bring it up and no one there would know about it. Hockey and MIT research would make for a great month and the perfect remedy for everything that h
appened in New York.

  Exclusive Excerpt

  Netminder

  Codename: Winger: Book Four

  By Jeff Adams

  Coming Soon to

  www.harmonyinkpress.com

  Chapter One

  “WERE WE that awkward as freshmen?” I asked Mitch as he drove toward my house. While I usually biked home, with the long practice, I took Mitch up on the offer of a ride. Coach was working the team extra hard in an effort to get the newbies into the right flow. “I don’t remember being that slow or having Coach repeat himself so many times.”

  “We were quick to catch on to the drills, but we didn’t move very fast. It was two or three games into the season before he put us into games.”

  When practices started two weeks ago, the returning team members voted unanimously to name Mitch captain. He deserved the recognition for his sportsmanship, leadership, and stellar gameplay. While there hadn’t been an official alternate captain in the time we’d been on the team, Mitch had often played the role last year to help keep the team focused.

  I was proud to see my best friend get the title he deserved.

  “Maybe I just want to remember the good stuff.” I shot a grin his direction, which he must’ve seen from the corner of his eye since he smiled too. “Why did Coach pick players who can’t seem to follow instructions, though? Makes you wonder who tried out if these were the best of the choices.”

  “We just have to guide them. We’re the seniors now, so we have to set a good example so that they’ll improve like we did. And so they’ll do it when it’s their turn in four years.”

  We did have great seniors on the team when we were freshmen. Of course Mitch wanted to be the same for these guys. “I’m sure we’ll do you proud.”

  “Are you sure you won’t let me talk to Coach about making you the alternate? It’d be so cool.”

  Mitch has pursued this relentlessly over the past few days. It was clear even before last season ended that he’d get the captaincy. While we were at hockey camp during August, he tried to get me enthused about the alternate position.

  Camp distracted me from what happened in New York earlier in the summer. Mitch and I had one conversation before the trip where I’d detailed the cover story of how Eddie broke up with me. There’d been a few times while we were at camp that my emotions got the better of me anyway. Mitch helped me pick up the pieces, even though I didn’t talk too much since I couldn’t give more details.

  Weeks later nothing had turned up that would’ve clued us in that the Cochranes were Blackbird agents. The details TOS had collected over the time we’d known the family revealed no inconsistencies in their cover. While I wasn’t directly involved in the ongoing TOS investigation, the drama around Eddie played out all over again when school started.

  Eddie was a topic of discussion—both to my face and behind my back. I wasn’t on social media much because it wasn’t worth my time. Eddie had been responsible for most of my output because he’d tag me a lot. With his Facebook profile deleted and him gone from school, everyone wanted to know what was up.

  I’d deliberately posted nothing. The rumor mill kicked in while Mitch and I were at camp, though, because he tagged me in camp pictures. The story became that I’d ditched Eddie to go with Mitch. Iris, who was doing an internship out of town, vigorously told commenters not to be stupid.

  Iris was awesome that way.

  Of course, as we all came back to school, it was clear that Mitch and Iris were together and that Eddie was gone. The swim team was the most vocal in their questions, since Eddie was one of its stars.

  Everyone expected I’d have a story to tell.

  It was very uncomfortable.

  Mitch stole glances at me. “You better tell me you’re thinking about taking alternate. It’s high time the team had one.”

  “Do you really think I’m a good choice since I’m already crazy busy?” I hoped to cover that I’d ended up in an Eddie spiral.

  My watch pulsed with a notification, and I glanced at it. John had gone into my room.

  Strange.

  I couldn’t remember a time he’d entered my room without me at home. My security system’s biometric doorknob would admit only four people—me, my parents, and John. What would he need in there?

  I wasn’t on a mission currently, focusing instead on upgrades to the ways agent phones and TOS apps interacted with Siri for voice commands. It was an easy way to get back into the swing of TOS after camp.

  Mitch kept looking over. He was about to say something he thought I didn’t want to hear. “Have you considered that you might work too much?” He capped the question with a smile.

  “Yeah,” I said with a groan attached, even though I had. “Camp was epic and exactly the reset I needed. So, yeah, it’s possible.”

  “Could I convince you just by reminding you that I’m your captain now?” Mitch pulled into the driveway alongside John’s car. He put the car in Park and gave me a stern look.

  Mom was in Portland training agents on how to handle the effects of being deep undercover. Dad, meanwhile, continued to be deployed somewhere in Europe, where he’d been for the past three weeks on a mission that was outside my need to know.

  “Wouldn’t it be an abuse of power?” It was an honor that he’d asked, but I didn’t want to let him down if I had to put my attention elsewhere.

  “All I’m doing is appealing to you as my friend, my teammate… and someone who falls under my authority.”

  He tried to hold a serious face and failed, which ultimately cracked us both up.

  “I’ll see you in the morning.” I grabbed my pack and opened the door. “Thanks for the ride. Later, man.”

  Once I was out, we traded a fist bump before I closed the door. The hatch raised as I came around to the back. Mitch’s dad owned a dealership, and his family always had good cars. Mitch drove an SUV because it had space for hockey gear when needed, and it was also convenient to haul my bike.

  After gently pushing on the hatch so it’d close, I moved out of the way so he could pull out. We traded a last wave as he passed.

  I triggered the garage door with my phone so I could wheel the bike in.

  Something felt off.

  I racked the bike and gave it the usual end of day once-over but couldn’t shake the odd feeling.

  Nothing was out of place in the garage. Both cars were gone, so all that was here was the stuff we stored—Christmas decorations, yard work tools, and random things in bins.

  If I were Peter Parker, though, I’d say that my Spidey-sense was tingling.

  My imagination must’ve gone off the rails. Maybe it was because John had gone into my room. Perhaps I was overreacting.

  In the kitchen the feeling intensified. I called out to John as I grabbed a water from the fridge.

  No response.

  The office door was open. Anxiety spread, tightening my chest. John wasn’t at his desk, though there was a smell I couldn’t place. Mom and Dad’s desks were empty except for the landline phones and framed photos—one of those was facedown.

  John’s laptop was open on his desk but locked.

  I went to the desk to right the photo.

  “John!” His legs were visible from behind Dad’s side of the desk. They were askew, one lying over the other.

  Had he collapsed?

  I stopped short as I rounded the desk. A pool of blood spread on the hardwood floor as well as from a hole in his shirt.

  That was the smell. I gagged, trying to keep from throwing up.

  Shit.

  His right hand was gone, blood spilled from his wrist. A cleaver lay next to him.

  Jesus.

  I stumbled backward, my feet not working right.

  Someone cut off his hand. He hadn’t gone to my room at all….

  The room spun and I grabbed Dad’s chair to steady myself. I couldn’t pass out.

  Was he dead? The bullet didn’t look in the right place to have hit his heart—but there
was so much blood.

  I dropped the backpack off my shoulders before I knelt next to him.

  I should call… call who?

  John was the one I called when shit went down and my parents weren’t home. We weren’t supposed to call 911 for agents, but this…,

  I breathed through my mouth to minimize the smell.

  The pulse in his uninjured wrist was barely there. His chest showed a very slight rise and fall.

  “John!”

  I flinched at the volume. There could still be people in the house. People in my room.

  “John?” I was quieter and shook him gently.

  First aid training didn’t cover this. Maybe I could stop the bleeding. I needed something to tie off the arm. I unbuckled his belt, but it wouldn’t slide out.

  “Theo.” He struggled to speak. His eyes barely fluttered open. “Run.”

  “But….”

  “Run.” His voice became crystal clear. “Now.”

  His hand clamped on my arm. I wanted to scream…or cry… or both.

  “Go!” His eyes focused intensely on me for a couple of seconds and then shut. His hand dropped.

  Training kicked in. We had protocols for this.

  When I was thirteen, Mom and Dad decided we needed a plan “just in case.” I never imagined we’d use it, not even after Eddie’s betrayal.

  I’d call 911 and TOS after I was gone. Maybe John could be saved.

  John’s instructions couldn’t be ignored.

  I grabbed my pack and ran upstairs, slowing when I saw my open door.

  Fuck.

  John’s hand was on the floor. That’s how they got in.

  Inside all the electronics were gone, including the stuff that was just for show. How’d they get it out without looking like a robbery in progress?

  I pulled my phone and sent the signal to fry the computers. I spared the phone and the laptop in my backpack for now.

  Frantically I threw stuff out of the closet—boxes of books and other things I didn’t use much. At least they hadn’t been in here.