Dragon Fate

by Juniper Hart

  If only they knew, he thought wryly. It’s probably better that they don’t.

  Living in St. Francis Bay had been the best move Titus could have made for himself, venturing into the southernmost tip of South Africa even before it had become trendy to do such a thing. Like his brother Cassius, he had seen the appeal of disappearing from the public eye during his private moments. It was a beautiful country, and while there was a constant threat of political uprising and civil unrest, Titus felt secure in his gated community, a distance away from the incessant issues the government seemed to face.

  He traveled to Europe and the Americas so much, he had little first-hand knowledge of what was happening in his home country. Titus preferred it that way.

  Just me, Janus, Marta, and Solomon. It’s the way it should be.

  As if on cue to mock his sense of inner peace, his cell phone began to chime at his side.

  Instinctively, Titus ignored it. He had left explicit instructions in Port Elizabeth that he was not to be disturbed, but since when had his words ever been heeded entirely? Gradually, his sooty eyes flittered toward the display, curious to know who was bothering him and why.

  Trina, he thought, seeing the name on the screen. Of course.

  Titus reluctantly answered it, shaking his head at his own lack of resolve. “Yes?”

  “Hi, sorry to bother you, Tito, but you need to come into the office today.”

  “Let me guess,” he offered, reaching forward to turn down the volume on the radio. “There’s a problem with the latest app—”

  “We’ve been hacked.”

  Titus pulled the phone away from his ear and gazed at it for a long moment, wondering if he had heard wrong. “What?”

  “We’ve been hacked,” Trina repeated. “Our servers are all down; the firewall has been violated. There was a full power outage, and we’ve been compromised.”

  Titus began to laugh. This must be some kind of prank, he was sure.

  “That’s impossible,” he chuckled. “No one can get into our systems, we—”

  “Titus, you need to get your ass into the office right now!”

  Trina’s voice reached a strange pitch, and Titus realized that she was serious.

  “You’re not kidding,” he mumbled. “Someone has actually broken through our system?”

  “Does this sound like something I’d joke about?” Trina growled. “What kind of asshole do you think I am?” It was a rhetorical question that Titus would have usually answered, but his mind whirled with the news.

  “I’ll be there in an hour.” He disconnected the call before Trina could add anything else.

  Typically, the drive would take two and a half hours, but desperate times called for flying measures. Even if it was in broad daylight.

  Titus landed on the banks of the Swartkop River, his giant frame landing with a thud against the white sands, but outside the prying eyes of town. As his form shifted from the massive olive beast into his mortal body, he quickly took note of his surroundings. The beauty of the South African cape never ceased to take his breath away, even after such a long time.

  It had taken Titus less time than he’d thought, distress causing his dark green wings to beat mercilessly against the non-resistant sky. Despite the nearly cloudless day, he was almost certain he had not been seen. It was just another benefit of living in the tranquility of the Indian Ocean.

  Moreover, it was a straight shot across to visit Cassius on his private island off the coast of Australia, should the mood strike. But Titus’ mood was not set on a family reunion at that moment.

  As he collected himself, he bolted up through the beach toward Port Elizabeth, where his headquarters were based.

  How could someone breach our security? he asked himself for what felt like the thousandth time since Trina’s call. We have never been infiltrated, not once in seventy years! Even when breaches were easy, I knew how to stop them.

  It seemed unlikely, no matter how stressed his assistant seemed by the perceived cyber attack. After all, Trina was a programmer, not a computer scientist. Titus had no reason to doubt she was concerned, but he was sure that when he arrived at the office, it would prove to be nothing but a glitch she had overlooked.

  He hurried through the nature reserve until he reached the isolated Dibansia Road, leading into the heart of town. It wasn’t long before he found himself outside the huge steel and glass structure he had made into Williams Technology all those years ago.

  While Port Elizabeth had grown around him, Titus had kept the building as it was, an inconspicuous space where the average passerby had no idea of the level of trade secrets within its walls. That in itself was a security measure, deterring break-ins and broken windows. Williams Tech had field offices on five of the seven continents and added new structures annually, but the Port Elizabeth location had always been home base.

  Being Sunday, a single security guard lounged inside the air-conditioned lobby, looking bored. His expression changed as he recognized the CEO, and he instantly sat up in his chair, almost jumping to his feet.

  “Mr. Williams!” he gasped. “What— how— what are you doing here, sir?”

  “I work here,” Titus reminded him dryly, using his fingerprints to access the entryway before hurrying toward the elevators.

  “Of course, of course!” Titus didn’t have time to entertain the guard’s shock, and he again used his prints to call for the elevator.

  The building was state-of-the-art in security, and once he reached the top of the fourteenth floor, he was required to give an eye scan before the lift door opened.

  Trina was pacing the lobby when he stepped onto the floor.

  “Oh! You’re here already!” she choked, relief coloring her face. “I tried to call the others, but no one is answering their phones.”

  “Show me,” Titus instructed. “What happened?”

  She gestured for him to follow, her heels clacking firmly against the tile as she led the way into her office, pulling up the screens that had caused her so much alarm. Titus’ brow furrowed, and he plopped into her swivel chair, his fingers poised over the keyboard.

  “Any idea what they were looking for?” he asked. “Was it the pending patents?”

  Trina sighed and shook her head.

  “I have no idea!” she wailed in despair. “I’m completely locked out.”

  Titus glanced at her and flashed her a reassuring smile.

  “It will be fine,” he told her, staring at the breach. Not even a second later, he realized how wrong he was. Oh, shit, he cursed under his breath.

  Trina had not been overreacting.

  There had been a hack.

  “How the hell…?”

  “I don’t know!” Trina cried, but Titus went to work instantly, digging into the backup files to see what had been affected.

  “There’s no virus that I can detect,” he said slowly, his hands working furiously as he tried to determine what had been done and why. “They were looking for something specific.”

  “What?”

  “Not sure yet,” he replied. “Get Kamil on the phone. If you can’t get him on the phone, send someone to his house. I need him here right away.”

  Trina nodded, and Titus continued to work, his heart hammering.

  It was the strangest thing he had ever seen. Someone has been inside his systems, blatantly showing them that they had been hacked, but for what purpose if not to infect or steal? No matter how much he dug around, Titus could not make sense of the reason for the breach.

  Kamil needs to confirm this, he thought, but nothing is wrong. Nothing except we’ve been infringed upon for the first time in over half a century. He sat back, a peculiar feeling of worry overcoming him as he stared at the screen. Who are you and what do you want? he wondered, his mind whirling. There must be something.

  Titus waited, almost expecting a sudden message to appear before him, a mocking taunt or a demand of sorts. Nothing materialized, leaving him feeling somehow more he
lpless.

  A gentle sweat broke out over his forehead as he continued to stare at the screen. There was someone out there with more tech savvy than him, and a begrudging respect grew in the pit of his gut.

  “I got in touch with Kamil,” Trina said. “He’s on his way, remote accessing the systems from the car.”

  “No!” Titus cried, swirling on the chair to stare at her. “No, tell him I want him here. Accessing the systems remotely may have been the cause of the initial breach. We will also need to organize a sweep of the building.”

  Trina nodded as Titus called his head of operations to stop him from causing more damage.

  “I’ll have security come up with the scanners,” she replied. “And I’ll call for back up. We’ll make sure these bastards never get back in here again.”

  But as Kamil’s line trilled in Titus’ ear, he secretly hoped that he might meet the man who had hacked his systems one day.

  I would probably offer him a job, Titus thought, swallowing his appreciation. Hackers like this don’t come along very often, after all.

  He decided to keep his respect to himself. Trina and Kamil probably wouldn’t share his enthusiasm.

  3

  Ara stuffed the food into her mouth without finesse, glad that the couple of farmers did not seem to notice.

  They’re just too polite to say anything, she thought, and she wished she could slow down and show a modicum of decorum. But she was starving, and as much as she wanted to show manners to the kind strangers before her, it was as if her body had overtaken her mind.

  “Are you American?” Betty asked.

  Ara nodded in response. “Yes,” she answered, swallowing a chunk of bread almost too quickly. “From San Francisco. I came here for a job, but it didn’t pan out. Now I have no money to get home.”

  “That’s terrible,” Rolf sighed. “That happens a fair bit, though. They cast a wide net, offer a dozen people the same position, and only pick the one they like best, leaving the others to find their way home without any options. You poor girl.”

  She offered them a small smile and nodded.

  “I appreciate your kindness,” she told them sincerely, her green eyes wide with appreciation. “I am just trying to make my way to Johannesburg.”

  “Oh, my dear!” Betty cried. “That is a dangerous trip for such a lovely girl to be making alone. You should stay here for a while, and we will ask around to find you some odd jobs for income.”

  Ara’s back tensed. There was no way in hell she was staying in one spot. As far as she knew, the police were already on her tail, and every minute she stayed on the farm, she endangered the couple who had been kind enough to take her in.

  “Thank you,” she replied demurely. “That would help me a great deal.”

  Of course, there was no reason for them to know she was on the run. The last thing she needed was to arouse their suspicion.

  I will sneak out in the middle of the night, she thought. Maybe I’ll even steal their truck. Even though Ara was instantly ashamed of herself at the idea, she was in fight-or-flight mode, her desire to survive overcoming her desire to do right. You’re not stealing their truck. They have been nothing but kind to you.

  Silently, Ara continued shoveling food down her windpipe as her mind worked furiously. She had no way of contacting the others and no money to move. How the hell had she gotten here? The plan had been so seamless.

  Obviously not. Suddenly she was on the cape of the country while her co-conspirators were God only knew where. For all Ara knew, they were all captured or dead.

  The idea that her friends were endangered filled her with dread and regret, but it was far too late for either emotion. All she could do now was move forward and try to get out of the country.

  “Are you all right, dear? You seem a little pale.”

  Ara nodded, forcing a grin on her face. “I was just relishing this delicious meal,” she replied.

  “I don’t suppose they have much waterblommetjie bredie in San Francisco?” Betty teased. “It’s a South African staple stew.”

  “Whatever it is, I can’t thank you enough for it,” Ara insisted, staring up at the woman with naked thankfulness.

  “Oh, hush now,” Betty chuckled. “We rarely get visitors out this way. Our own children have moved to the city now, and they have lives of their own. They never make time to visit their old parents.”

  Ara felt a stab of sympathy for them as she caught the wistful note in Betty’s voice.

  “That is very much their loss,” she said. “This stew is the best I’ve ever eaten. I could have this for dinner every night!”

  The couple giggled at her gusto. “Be careful what you wish for, child, or I might just feed it to you every night.”

  It was Ara’s turn to feel sad.

  I wish I could stay here, she thought. Can I stay here? She scowled at the stupidity of the idea. You are twenty-six years old. Stop being a child, she scolded herself.

  “The guest bedroom is all made up already,” Rolf offered, noting the tiredness in Ara’s pale face.

  “And there are fresh towels in the guest bathroom if you want to shower,” Betty added. “But you seem exhausted, child. Go and rest.”

  Ara shook her head, reaching for the empty bowls. “At least let me do the dishes,” she said.

  “I have a dishwasher, child,” Betty laughed. “We may be farmers, but we are not stuck in the middle ages.”

  Ara blushed in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean—”

  “Of course not, dear,” Rolf interjected, casting his wife a scolding look. “Betty was just joking.”

  “Go and rest,” Betty repeated, and Ara glanced at her gratefully.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, rising to drop her napkin onto the table.

  “Up the stairs and on your left, second door,” Rolf called after her.

  Ara nodded and made her way toward the foyer, climbing the stairs. She had not realized just how exhausted she was, though it only made sense: she had been on the run for a week, ever since the hacking of the South African government.

  While Ara had had nothing to do with it firsthand, they had all fled in the aftermath, knowing that it was only a matter of time before their association with the guilty party was discovered.

  The guilty party, she thought bitterly. Goddamn you, Skylar. You screwed all of us without any regard for what would happen.

  Still, she had no way of knowing exactly who knew what or if she was even being sought. All she knew was that running was her only option, although what she was running toward, she had no idea.

  Albeit, that hijacking probably got some coverage, she reasoned, laboriously taking the steps one at a time, as if her legs weighed a ton. Ara knew she couldn’t stay overnight at the farm, but she also knew she needed rest before she kept going. I’ll take a shower and rest for a few hours before heading out. I’ll decide whether to take the truck when I wake up. I’m too tired to make any decisions right now.

  But even as she thought it, Ara knew she was not taking the farmers’ vehicle, not when they had extended such kindness to her. Besides, that was more Skylar’s style than hers. She shoved his face out of her head, determined not to wallow in her plight that evening. She had a few minutes of peace, no matter how fleeting, and she intended to embrace them.

  Ara found the guest bedroom without any issue, and despite her resolve to keep moving, she could not help melting slightly at the warmth exuding from the walls of the space.

  Antique furniture decorated each corner of the room: an old-fashioned writing desk, a four-poster bed, and two matching nightstands in a deep, honey maple. A handmade quilt covered the bed, accenting the embroidered pillows, and Ara could tell that Betty had made them.

  What is wrong with their kids? she wondered to herself. If I had parents like Betty and Rolf, I would never move out!

  But she didn’t have parents like Betty and Rolf. Ara couldn’t even imagine what it was like to have dinner together every night
and sleep in a house so warm and secure every day of her childhood.

  Some people have all the luck in the world, and they don’t even realize how good they have it, she thought bitterly, slipping her canvas bag onto the floor. But I guess the grass is always greener. I’m sure Rolf and Betty have some skeletons of their own.

  It didn’t matter to Ara. She knew that everyone had a past. No one could change where they had come from, but they could always change where they were going.

  She wondered if she was going to a South African jail.

  A knock on the door caught her attention and made her turn. Betty stood in the doorway, holding out a pile of folded garments.

  “These belonged to my daughter, Mary,” the white-haired woman said, stepping over the threshold. “I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but she’s a little bigger than you, and she wore them when she was a girl, so they might fit if you’re in the market for new clothes.”

  The pile contained a soft cotton tracksuit, t-shirt, and a fresh pair of socks.

  Unexpectedly, tears sprang to Ara’s eyes, and she blinked them back as fast as she could but not before a stray drop spilled onto her cheek.

  “Oh! I’m sorry!” Betty exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to make you cry!”

  Ara shook her head, unable to speak for a moment as she caught her breath.

  “You are so kind,” she whispered. “I—I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You must stop saying that,” Betty chided her, placing a hand on Ara’s shoulder. Impulsively, Ara threw herself into Betty’s arms. The farmer seemed taken aback by the gesture, but she slowly encased Ara in a hug. “It’s all right, dear,” Betty murmured. “It must be very scary for you in a strange country without any money, but everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

  Ara sniffled and pulled back, embarrassed at her behavior.

  “Of course you’re right,” she replied quickly. “I think I’m just… overtired and emotional.”

  “Go on and rest now.”

  Ara watched as her benefactor disappeared back into the hallway and swallowed the lump in her throat.