The Mainframe (The New Agenda Series Book 3)

by Simone Pond

  The men came back and the one with the 9mm nudged Laura forward toward her scooter.

  “Wait!” Ava yelled. “She needs her gun out there.”

  “Bullets out,” he ordered.

  Ava pulled the revolver from the pack and opened the chamber, letting the bullets drop to the dirt. She tossed the gun over to Laura, who nodded and got on her powder-blue scooter. Without glancing back, she drove off down the path.

  “We got some miles to go before we get to camp. That should give you enough time to convince us.” He lowered his shotgun, but kept it close at his side.

  Ava knew just where to start. She had Lillian’s story memorized.

  *

  Ava and the two men walked for miles through the roughest parts of the forest. Her face got scratched up and her hands were chafed and bleeding, but she kept up with the soldiers. They ducked, crawled, and climbed their way through the dense woods while she told them every detail of Lillian’s story, down to the first time she kissed Aaron. The men kept quiet and listened. By the time they reached the clearing in the woods, they were convinced she knew Lillian. But they weren’t convinced she wasn’t working for Morray.

  The camp was about a fourth of the size of the current-day village, and this portion of settlement was a little more south and closer to the lake. The cabins sat close to each other and the workmanship was amateurish, as if they had been slapped together by people who were just learning how to build them. There was a medical cabin and an area for communal gathering similar to the cantina, only much smaller in scale. Some of the cabins looked like the humble beginnings of trading storefronts. These were the seeds that would one day yield Ojai Village. An overwhelming sense of familiarity sank into Ava’s skin. Though she was three hundred years before her time, she felt as if she were home. She longed for Joseph and Grace and wondered if she’d ever see her real home again—not some programmed version of it. A tear rolled down her cheek, stinging her scratches.

  “I need to clean up these wounds,” she told the man with the shotgun, whose name was Al.

  “You can get fixed up in the medical hall, but I’m keepin’ someone on you, in case you try to pull anything,” Al said.

  “You’re going to get Lillian, right?” she asked.

  “She’ll come when I know it’s clear.” Al motioned for his buddy to take Ava to the medical hall while he tracked down Lillian.

  She thought she’d try her luck and asked if she could see Sarah in the meantime, but Al shook his head and walked off.

  Inside the cabin, Ava sat down on a cot while a woman with long gray hair cleaned the dirt out of her cuts.

  “I’m Catherine. What’s your name?”

  “Ava.”

  “Let’s get you fixed up.” She smiled, humming a soft tune as she applied aloe.

  Ava remembered how Rebecca had cared for her when she first arrived at the village after trekking through the tunnels with Joseph. Like Rebecca, Catherine’s kindness wasn’t out of obligation, but out of an innate desire to help. There was a healing spirit that existed in the village, in this time and the ones to come. This made Ava more homesick. She had to get out of the program before it became her only reality. She looked back to her past and how she had escaped the city center with everything stacked against her. She’d get out of this prison, too.

  24

  Grace stared at Sam. He looked different, more confident or something. Maybe it was the suit or that annoying know-it-all smirk on his lips. The last few years came together like a string of perfect coding, and she could see the truth. The whole time Sam was assisting Ava, he had actually been gathering information. Information he could use to ambush Grace and her mother. Only one man would go through that much trouble to plot his revenge: Morray. The digital footprints were real. Morray was back. But he wasn’t nearly as threatening as her mother made him out to be. Every molecule in her body itched, wanting to thrust forward with her sword and take him out, but she forced herself to remain calm to see where things were going. At the current moment, he had the advantage. She still needed to find her mother.

  “I always knew you were an asshole,” she said, lifting her sword.

  “Easy, Grace.” He held up his hand. “You kill me, you’ll never get your mother back.”

  “Where is she, you troll?” Her voice bounced off the marble walls.

  “She’s safe.”

  “If you don’t take me to her, I’m gonna start chopping off body parts.”

  Blythe stepped up, aiming one of her arrows. “Yeah, Watchdog. And while she’s doing that, I’ll be plugging you with holes.”

  “Without me, you get nowhere. You need to calm down.”

  Grace pressed the sharp point of her sword into Sam’s cheek. “You need to quit playing games, Morray.”

  Sam laughed and shook his head. “Morray?” He laughed some more, stepping away from the sword and straightening his suit. “I’m flattered, but I’m not Morray.”

  “Who the hell are you, then? Because I know you’re not Sam, an innocent refugee from the southwestern region who wanted to learn about technology.”

  “Clever girl,” he said.

  The lobby grew quiet. Grace felt the energy shifting, as though a storm cloud had moved in. Sensing another presence, she spun around, but no one was there. She heard a bead of sweat smack against the marble floor. Then the click-clack of heels echoed through the lobby as the presence emerged from the shadows.

  “Hello, Grace.”

  “Ms. Atwood?” Grace sounded as if she had a rubber band wrapped around her larynx.

  “Well, not exactly, my dear,” she said, smiling so fiendishly Grace stepped back a few inches. “I think it’s best if you refer to me as Chief Morray from here on out.”

  Grace had gotten it all wrong. Morray had been using Ms. Atwood’s body.

  “Let’s put down the sword and talk like rational adults, shall we?” Ms. Atwood put her arm around Grace’s shoulder. From within the woman’s body, Morray’s powerful essence rose up like a baleful gust of wind. Grace had become paralyzed under his palpable evilness. Her sword clanged to the floor.

  “What’s going on?” Blythe pointed her arrow at Ms. Atwood.

  “Do something about that, Dickson,” she motioned toward Blythe.

  Sam (Dickson) nodded to Ms. Atwood (Morray). And while Blythe was still trying to figure out what was going on, Sam shot her. Blythe dropped to the floor like a sack of grains.

  “What the hell?” Grace jumped back, lifting her hands in surrender. She stared at Blythe, spread out on the tiles, a pool of blood encircling her body. She wanted to run over to her, but she couldn’t risk getting shot. She needed to keep it together. She could mourn Blythe when this was over.

  “Come along, dear. Let’s get you cleaned up and out of those rancid clothes.” Ms. Atwood held open her arms, escorting Grace forward.

  Grace walked through the lobby toward the transporter with Ms. Atwood and Sam a few footsteps behind. She didn’t say another word. She knew better than to strike from a place of disadvantage. If she was going to get to her mother, she’d have to play nice. Morray must have been using Ms. Atwood’s body for a while—did he purposely rig the academy tryouts so Grace would track his digital footprints? Or was that an accident? Maybe he and Dickson weren’t counting on Grace being able to manipulate the coding? Whatever the details were, the plan had worked—Morray had both Grace and Ava under his iron fist.

  They arrived at Room 4011.

  “Get cleaned up. Dickson will come for back for you.” Ms. Atwood gently stroked Grace’s cheek.

  Grace pulled away, disgusted. “Where’s my mother?”

  “She’s on a little journey right now. Safe inside the mainframe, where she belongs.”

  The door slid shut, sealing Grace inside the room.

  She flittered around like a hummingbird, landing on one thought, then shooting off to the next. She needed to pull herself together and come up with a strategy. Things she knew for
certain: she was locked inside a room with no exits, her sword was in the lobby next to Blythe’s dead body, and her mother was stuck inside the mainframe. Things weren’t looking so good. She knew her mother’s body was somewhere in the Administrative building, but she couldn’t break free and start searching the rooms. But she could track her down inside the mainframe and help pull her out. Then the two of them could take down Morray and Dickson together. She needed to get Dickson to connect her to the mainframe before Morray got to her. That would involve some hardcore manipulation. But she had a pretty good idea what his greatest weakness was . . . He was always someone’s subordinate.

  She went to the bathroom to get cleaned up. If that’s what Morray wanted, she’d do her best to appear agreeable. Hanging on the door was a similar pink dress to the one she had worn to the gala event. The one Marion called the cupcake dress. The one she wore when she danced under the stars with Lucas. That seemed like a million years ago. She figured Morray was trying to make a statement, but she just laughed, starting to see his greatest weakness. Before she put it on, she ripped out the layers of crinoline underneath and tore off the wing bust. The material hung sadly from her body, looking deflated, as though she had kicked it from its former state of glory. That was her statement to Morray.

  The door slid open, and Sam walked into the room. She’d never be able to call him Dickson. He shook his head, looking at the shredded dress.

  “A rebel without a cause,” he muttered.

  She just smiled and curtsied, the way the ladies did in the city.

  “You know, you’re wasting your time,” he said.

  “I could say the same thing about you. Always the right-hand man, never quite good enough to be on top.”

  “That’s cute—you’re trying to provoke me. Not going to work, Grace.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway.

  Judging from his grip, Grace thought it was working just fine. “Seems a bit degrading for someone at your level of genius. After all, didn’t you build the mainframe?”

  “You wouldn’t know anything about it,” he said, shoving her down the hallway.

  She continued sparring as they walked down the corridor. “Actually, I do know about it. Remember: I’m the one who located Morray’s footprints. And that was under five minutes. Imagine what I could do if I had more time in there?” She chuckled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I’d take your coding and do something useful.”

  He stopped and stared at her for a few seconds. “It’s your DNA. That’s how you’re able to merge with the coding. You didn’t do it on your own. The only reason you and your mother are able to interact with it is because I reprogrammed it that way.”

  “Your handiwork is only half of me. The rest is pure Outsider blood. Which means your programming abilities aren’t that good, Watchdog.” She winked.

  “I created all of it—the mainframe, your mother, you. Everything exists because of me.”

  She drew back her imaginary sword and went in for the final blow. “If you really had the chops to be the all-powerful creator, why have you been Morray’s errand boy for the last three hundred years? That must be exhausting, taking his orders century after century. Helping to enshrine his legacy: a whole bunch of tragedy and death. Bravo.”

  He lost control of his emotions and slapped her hard across her cheek, knocking her back a bit. She was one step closer to getting to her mother.

  “I’ll show you how easy it is to decipher my coding.” He yanked her arm and she pretended to struggle, making him think that wasn’t what she wanted, though it was exactly what she wanted. Her plan was working.

  He dragged her into one of the rooms, where there was a white lounger sitting under a spot light. He shoved her into the chair and strapped her down.

  “Try to navigate your way out of this program,” he said, slamming her hand onto the connector panel.

  He started typing code and mumbling to himself about how sick and tired he was of being disregarded by Morray. He grumbled some other incomprehensible mutterings as he became unhinged. Grace figured over three hundred years of working for a maniacal lunatic like Morray had to eventually take a toll. She almost felt sorry for him.

  “There,” he said, with some finality.

  “I’ll miss you most of all, Watchdog,” she mimicked a line from an old movie her mother had made her watch a hundred times.

  Just as she was slipping under, the door slid open and Ms. Atwood, or Morray, charged into the room.

  “What the hell are you doing, Dickson?” Were the last words Grace heard before the darkness enveloped her . . .

  *

  Inside the mainframe, Grace found herself in a beautifully decorated room fit for a queen. From the windows, she could see the ocean. She knew from the two peninsulas—the northern being Malibu and the southern being Palos Verdes—that she was in Los Angeles. There was no sign of the monorail system going from downtown to the coastal villages. So it appeared as though Dickson had sent her back into an archive file.

  She left the room and walked down the hallway, looking for some more clues. At the end of the corridor she came upon an enormous ballroom with vaulted ceilings, hundreds of chandeliers, and heavy red drapes hanging around the perimeter. When she stepped into the shadowy room, music from a string quartet began to play and the drapes began to slowly open. Sunlight pierced into the room, blinding Grace at first. After her eyes adjusted, she walked to the windows and stared off toward the hideous black structure made of solar panels.

  “The Los Angeles City Center,” she said.

  Having only seen hand-drawn renderings or the occasional faded photograph, she marveled at the enormity of the structure. It was larger than the Seattle City Center, and the hard sunlight coming off the panels made it look more sinister. Sam had done an incredible job with the details. His coding was far more meticulous than any virtual. In virtuals she always knew she was in an imaginary world, but inside this program she felt as though nothing else existed outside of it. Logically she knew her body was in the Seattle City Center, but knowing that didn’t alter this reality.

  “Such accurate detail. Isn’t it?” a voice came from behind.

  Grace whipped around to find a very attractive man standing a few feet away. He wore an impeccable black suit and very shiny shoes. His overwhelming presence and striking features took her aback. His pale gray eyes glinted in the sunlight, and a sly grin spread across his handsome face. Though she didn’t know this man, her insides automatically tensed up, just like before a sword fight.

  “Although, you wouldn’t know. That’s what my city looked like before your mother destroyed everything.”

  “Morray,” she whispered.

  “In the flesh.” He laughed at his bad joke.

  “Where is she?”

  “You look just like her,” he said. “Except for the hair,” he added.

  “Looks like you got what you wanted. We’re both inside the mainframe.”

  “Quick like her, too.” He reached out to touch her arm, but she stepped back. “And just as stubborn,” he added.

  “And, like my mother, I also have a knack for the mainframe.”

  “You certainly do.”

  “I’m going to find her and get us out of this thing. But not before I get rid of you.”

  “I have some unfinished business with your mother. And right now, you’re getting in the way. But I believe Dickson will handle the situation. You see, you’re not just inside the mainframe; you’re in a program. You won’t get anywhere near your mother.”

  “You don’t know me, Morray. I promise you, I’ll figure a way to take you down. I learned from the best. If that weren’t true, your giant black box would still be standing.” Grace smiled.

  Morray pressed his thumb and index finger and spoke, “Security detail, please.”

  A couple of men entered the room and approached Morray.

  “Please return our guest to her chambers. Keep your best men on the door.�
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  “You can try to keep me locked in this program, but I’ll find a way out. It’s in my blood.”

  “I have no doubt you will certainly attempt it. But when you fail, I hope you’ll make yourself comfortable. You’ll be here for a very, very long time.”

  Morray waved off the guards and they dragged Grace down the hallway.

  Sitting in the chambers, Grace reflected on the last few months leading up to that point. To do a proper search and rescue, she’d need to sort out the facts. What stood out? What was unusual? She recalled her experience inside the mainframe during tryouts. Hadn’t Dickson mentioned that he reprogrammed the mainframe so that her mother could interact with the coding? He hadn’t counted on it working for Grace as well. But it was her DNA coding that had led her to the red door. What was behind the red door? She remembered seeing the woods. What else had been strange? She flashed back to the old journal she had found hidden in Sam’s desk at the lab. Bookmarked to the pages about Morray’s son, Phoenix. The story was coming together. Sam must have written a program for Ava to go back and interact with Morray’s archive files—probably to save Phoenix from his untimely death.

  Grace knew exactly where to begin: Lillian’s camp.

  She’d need to get out of the current program and re-upload into the archive files. To do that, she needed access to a portal. There was nothing in the room except for an oversized bed and a lounger. She considered breaking a window and using the sheets to scale down the side of the building. But then what? Besides, she was being monitored; there were cameras in every corner of the room. If there were cameras, that meant there was a computer system. That would be her way out. She just had to get to it.

  “Security!” she yelled, banging her hands against the crystal door.

  When nothing happened, she went to the bed and pulled off the comforter and ripped off the sheets underneath. She would use the sheets to lasso down one of the monitors. That would get Morray’s attention. She tore the sheets into narrow strips and tied them together, made a loop at the end, and tossed it toward the monitor. It took a few tries, but she was able to get the material wrapped around the small camera. She began to tug and pull, using all of her body weight. The thing wouldn’t budge. She’d have to get up there and rip it down. She placed a pile of pillows on the floor to cushion a potential forty-foot drop, then climbed up the sheet, using the wall as leverage. When she was about an arm’s reach away from the monitor, she grabbed the camera with both hands, trying to loosen it with her weight. Dangling from the ceiling, she swung her legs forward and pressed her feet against the wall, using all of her strength to yank it from the wall. Just as it disconnected, the security guards entered and she dropped to the pile of pillows. She rolled off to the side and covertly tucked the camera into the pocket of her jumpsuit.