“You’re bleeding,” said Christina.
“Yeah, I noticed.” He grimaced. “I’ll find a place we can stop soon.”
Dakota glanced at him. The reality of having been shot at gradually overwhelmed the adrenaline of the moment, leading to her whole body shivering. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I’ve put everyone at risk.”
“We all went in there,” said Eric. “Did you do anything with that data yet?”
She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No. Nothing more than compiled the mod for the helmets.”
“Well, then you haven’t put us at risk any more than we all already did to ourselves.” He patted her leg. “Hell, this might not even be CSI. Maybe those thugs work for Steyr, and they’re trying to keep us quiet.”
She covered her mouth with both hands, trying to warm her fingers. “I’m pretty sure the guys who grabbed me worked for CSI. They seemed hesitant to kill me. Heck, two of them weren’t even too interested in torturing me.” She glanced sideways at him. “I guess they either know I’m the one with the data and want to keep me alive until they are sure it didn’t go anywhere, or you’re right and these guys work for Steyr and wanna kill us.”
“You are dripping on the door,” said Christina.
“All right. All right, fine.” Eric changed lanes to the right. “I’ll stop at that ZonGas station coming up. Need to fill this thing anyway.”
A moment later, the car rolled to a stop by the pumps.
Dakota got out to deal with the fuel while Christina made Eric take his jacket off so she could get to his arm. She logged into the pump with her Amazon credentials before connecting the nozzle and standing there staring at the ground, wondering when her life decided to go off the rails over a video game. Eric gasped and groaned as Christina applied an antiseptic wash.
“Aww, damn that hurts.” He cringed.
Dakota fixated on her sneakers, the laces still untied. Bits and pieces of her struggle to get off the chair flashed in her mind. Unable to decide which event (being kidnapped or shot at) to freak out about more left her numb and calm. Shoelaces hadn’t even registered to her then. Hell, she’d barely forced herself to spend the time to recover her shoes. Probably because of all the broken glass on the floor in that place. A barefoot escape wouldn’t have gotten far.
“Not so bad,” said Christina. “Little Dermaglue and you’ll be okay. Just a graze. I think you did more damage to us when you drilled us into the ground.”
“Sorry,” muttered Eric.
“No sorry.” Christina chuckled. “I have a severe lead allergy.”
After cleaning the cut out, she took a plastic tube from her bag and dabbed some clear gel on the spot, then pinched the skin closed.
“Gah!” Eric stifled a yell and pounded his fist on the steering wheel.
“Oh, this hurts a lot less than actually taking a bullet.” She winked.
Dakota jumped and nearly screamed when the pump stopped with a clank and beeped to indicate the tank had filled. She kept her head down as if she’d done something wrong and hoped no one saw her while unhooking the fuel line and getting back in the car.
“Thanks, doc.” Eric examined his arm. The gel had hardened into a plastic-like substance that held the wound closed. “Feels weird, but it’s not bleeding anymore.”
“I’m not a doctor. They get the money; we do most of the dirty work.” She winked.
“So where now?” asked Eric.
“Philly.” Dakota picked up the GPS and plugged in William’s address. “And we hope he’s still alive.”
Underground
29
They’d left Christina’s apartment around 5:30 p.m. The GPS estimated their arrival in Philadelphia at 9:28 p.m. Dakota huddled low in the seat, occasionally risking a look out the windows for signs that anyone followed them.
Christina broke the silence at 8:40 p.m. “Would you guys think I’m crazy if I complained about being on the road instead of in the game?”
“Heh.” Dakota fiddled with her shoelaces. “Me too. I’d rather be home working on hitting level sixty.”
“You two are addicted,” said Eric.
“It’s an addiction to want to be home safe instead of hiding out from thugs?” Dakota kept twirling her finger around and around the shoelace. “Fawkes is confident. She wouldn’t be so scared. She wouldn’t have run away; she’d have killed all three of those guys.”
Eric glanced at her. “Fawkes also gets back up if she dies.”
“Yeah. That’s true.” She chuckled, unable to help but feel irritated at the loss of game time. If those men hadn’t grabbed her, she’d have gotten home a little before three and had like seven hours to while away in Axillon99. “Yeah. She’s right. The nerve of those assholes, taking up my game time.”
Christina laughed.
“Ooh.” Dakota fumed. “Now I’m conflicted. Half of me wants to burn CSI to the ground, but if I do that, I won’t be able to play.”
“There’s other games,” said Christina.
“Oh, yeah. Realms of Infinity, right? I guess I could deal with elves and fantasy and dragons and stuff, but spaceships are cooler.”
“Ax is way bigger. The game world’s like forty-seven times the size of RoI’s. Plus, they don’t have spaceships.”
“Duh, it’s fantasy,” said Christina. “What would they do, player-character galleons or something? Space has a lot more possibilities than ocean.”
“Stop a sec. I gotta piss,” said Dakota.
“What?” asked Eric. “There’s nothing out here.”
She glanced around at the open nothingness they’d been driving past for almost an hour. “Yeah, exactly why I’m tired of waiting.”
“You’re just going to pee in the open?” Christina leaned into the gap between seats, her eyebrows up.
Dakota grasped the door handle. “I’ve been kidnapped, tied to a chair, shocked with a stun gun, slapped, punched, and shot at today. If someone rushing by at ninety catches a split second glimpse of my bare ass, I couldn’t care less. It’s either that or the seat’s getting wet.”
“Whoa. This is my mom’s car.” Eric swerved into the right lane, braked hard, and pulled to a stop on the shoulder.
Christina found that hilarious and cracked up laughing.
After all three of them watered the grass on the far side of the guardrail (Eric waited for the women to finish), they resumed driving. Dakota called William again to check up on him. She explained what happened at Christina’s, and he confirmed that he remained alive and had not seen anyone suspicious. She relayed her plan to seek refuge with her brother and his friends. It took a bit of convincing, but William relented and agreed to at least give the idea two days. With Christina and Eric listening in on speakerphone, they decided to hide out with Nebraska and spend two days trying to come up with a better plan than going to the police and hoping not to get charged with cybercrimes.
At 9:31 p.m., Eric parked in front of a nice, but small house in the suburbs of Philadelphia. The neighborhood looked like something from a Spielberg movie, with neat lawns and evenly spaced neighbors―the kind of place where nothing bad ever happened, and sometimes kids had aliens living in their closet or built spaceships out of old amusement park rides.
Dakota’s cell phone rang.
She pulled it out, but didn’t recognize the caller ID. “Should I answer it?”
“Why not? If it’s the people trying to kill us, answering it won’t tell them where you are. Maybe you can cut a deal or something.” Eric wagged his eyebrows.
“Right,” she muttered, and answered. “Hello?”
“Fawkes?” asked William. “I’m looking at a car parked in front of my house. Please tell me that’s you.”
She froze. “Yeah. You, umm, aren’t pointing a gun at us, are you?”
“It’s not a gun. It’s a rifle,” said William. “Do me a favor, flick your lights?”
Eric obliged.
“I see the lights flashing,” said Wi
lliam. “Be right out.”
“Wow,” muttered Christina as soon as the phone call dropped. “This guy one of those paranoid types?”
Eric chuckled. “After what happened so far, can you blame him?”
The front door opened a moment later as a man in a green Army coat and camo BDU pants stepped out carrying a full-size duffel bag, likely William. A tween with wild shoulder-length blond hair followed, lugging a fat backpack. The kid wore a smaller version of the same coat with jeans and sneakers. A thin face, delicate features, and frightened eyes made Dakota want to run over and hug her.
Christina seemed oddly nervous.
Dakota hopped out as William and the girl crossed the lawn past a dark blue pickup in the driveway and walked up to the car. William had the pale cheeks of a cubicle farm worker and the nascent wrinkles of a person creeping up on forty. The kid looked even paler, so white her skin practically glowed in the moonlight. She had the body language of boredom, but her hazel eyes couldn’t open any wider.
“Hey,” said Dakota to William, before smiling at the girl. “Hey kiddo. Sorry about this mess. Shit, you didn’t tell me you had a daughter. Uhh, you know the place we’re going isn’t exactly the greatest spot to bring a kid.”
The girl finally made eye contact, and sighed.
“This is my son, Shawn,” said William. “He likes his hair long.”
Dakota cringed.
“It’s okay.” Shawn shrugged. “I get that a lot from people who don’t know me. No big deal. Besides, I thought you were a dude playing a chick character. You play kinda aggressive as DPS.”
“Heh.” Dakota examined her chest. “Last time I checked, all girl.”
William nodded at the car. “Pop the trunk? And I’m not letting him stay here all by himself. Not with all this crap going on. There’s no one to leave him with, and I’d rather not risk the chance our friends try to grab him.”
“Nice,” said Christina from inside the car, smiling at William. “Kavan uses his real voice too in the game. Wow, you don’t look anything like I expected.”
Eric hit the trunk release.
“What did you expect?” William lugged the duffel around and tossed it in the trunk.
“Sorry,” muttered Dakota.
Shawn shook his head, cracking a grin at Dakota. “It’s cool. If it bugged me, I’d have cut my hair a long time ago.”
“He plays in a band already.” William beamed with pride. “I guess the style of music requires long hair. But, it’s his hair, so his choice.”
Dakota fidgeted. Great. Now there’s a child involved. Shit. I should just end this now. “Look, maybe I should forget this and go to the cops. I don’t want to drag a kid into danger.”
“He’s already in it,” said William. “Not taking the chance. If they found Christina, they’re going to find me.”
When he reached up to close the trunk lid, his jacket lifted enough to expose a huge handgun on his belt.
Dakota gasped. “Umm… is that legal?”
“Yeah.” William patted it. “Got a permit.”
“But we’re going into Manhattan. Guns aren’t legal there.”
Eric laughed. “Tell that to your bro and his buds.”
Her eyebrows knit together. “Yeah… Seems like the cops only care about guns if you use them on someone with too much money.”
William climbed in back with Shawn sitting between him and Christina. The boy offered a weak smile, then focused his stare at the floor. Eric started the car and pulled around in a U-turn, heading back for the interstate. Mechanically, Dakota plugged an address into the GPS that would bring her close enough to Nebraska’s hideaway beneath the bridge.
“You guys are sure you’re all okay with this?” asked Dakota.
“Better than being shot at.” Christina scratched at her head. “I’d rather be home, but… yeah, they literally tried to kill me. I’m okay with your idea.”
“Whatever you want, babe,” said Eric.
“Two days.” William nodded. “If we don’t get anywhere in two days, then we can talk about going to the police.”
Dakota scooted around in the passenger seat to face everyone. “I’m not sure where this is coming from as I’ve never really been the ‘jump on the grenade’ type of person… usually when shit gets real, I find a hiding place, but―”
“Just like a rogue,” said Shawn.
She laughed. “Yeah. Look. It was my idea to go after that back door in the first place. If we can’t fix this in a couple days, I’ll tell the police you guys had no idea what I was doing in there.”
“Damn noble of you, but let’s not scuttle the ship just yet.” William patted the back of her seat.
Dakota shifted to face forward, letting her mind wander around theoretical possibilities. Would blasting the information about the election manipulation and mind-reading marketing scheme to major news outlets create so much of a shitstorm that it would become pointless to attack her and the others? Or, would going to the cops and keeping everything quiet work better? Depends on how corrupt stuff is. If the NSA or CIA is involved in this, the cops are basically working for them…
“Do you guys think this is like, big time badness? Like CIA/NSA level crap?” She rubbed her hands up and down her legs, wincing when she grazed the stun gun burn. “If they’re involved, and they know about the brain hacking, going to the cops could be the exact wrong thing to do.”
“Maybe the CIA’s who tried to kidnap you,” said Shawn.
Dakota shook her head. “No. If the CIA wanted to kidnap me, I’d be kidnapped. Those guys were definitely not professionals.”
“Look,” said Christina. “Stop worrying yourself to death. Let’s take some time to collect ourselves. If this place we’re going is as safe as you think it is, we can relax and plot out our next move.”
“Oh crap.” She spun to look at William. “We forgot Nighthawk.”
“No, you didn’t.” Shawn lifted his gaze off the floor. “Hi, everyone.”
Dakota stared at him. She thought of Nighthawk’s bizarre reaction to that woman hitting on him―like he had no idea what to do. Or, how he always laughed whenever anyone cursed or said the word ‘balls.’ Or how he got bored so easily. Or any of a thousand different little idiosyncratic behaviors that didn’t seem right for a grown man. She shifted her eyes to William. “No wonder you cringed whenever anyone swore… our pilot’s a kid!”
“Wait, didn’t you say you weren’t twelve?” asked Eric.
Shawn flashed a cheesy smile. “I’m not twelve. I’m eleven… as of four months ago.”
“Wow, so much makes sense now!” Christina giggled.
“Yeah,” said Eric, “like how he’s so damn good at twitch flying.”
Dakota nodded. “He really is probably one of the twenty best pilots in the game.”
Shawn grinned.
“Hey, did he name the ship?” asked Dakota. “Stormbringer sounds a little, uhh… like we’re taking ourselves too seriously.”
“Yeah.” Shawn nodded. “You don’t like it?”
“Better than his first choice.” William rolled his eyes.
“Dad!” Shawn play-punched him on the arm.
“Oh, I gotta hear this,” said Eric. “What was the first choice?”
The boy’s face reddened.
William tried to keep a straight face. “Deathwing.”
Shawn sighed at the roof. “Come on, Dad. I was only nine then! Even I think that’s lame now.”
“Oh, crap, he’s a kid!” said Eric.
“You just realized that?” Shawn scratched his head. “You might need glasses.”
“No, I mean… that creepiness with the little girl on that one quest.” Eric peered at the rearview mirror. “Totally different feel to that now.”
Shawn blushed. “She looked like this girl from school I kinda wanna go out with. And she seemed so scared and sad.”
“Oh shit. I bet the game pulled her look straight out of your head,” said Dakot
a.
Shawn went bug-eyed.
William put an arm around Shawn. “He took it kinda hard when he realized it wasn’t his friend playing.”
That explains the disappointment when he realized she was fifteen, not twelve. She exhaled in relief. Not a twentysomething man crushing on a child. No longer having to entertain that disgusting thought brought out the first genuine smile Dakota experienced since her chat with Blake.
“I’m hungry,” said Shawn. “Can we get food?”
“Me too.” Christina patted her stomach. “It’s way past when I usually eat.”
“I’m on it,” said Eric.
He took an off-ramp and stopped at the first fast food place they found, a Chipotle Amazon.
“Good grief,” said William. “Do they own everything?”
Dakota shrugged. “More or less. Either them, Disney, or Walmart. Disney glommed up all the burger chains and Walmart got the chicken ones.”
The ride back to New York ate two and a half hours, including the twenty minutes it took to get food. Dakota took over for the GPS once they arrived in Manhattan, and a bit shy of midnight, they arrived in the shadow of the bridge.
“Umm. Is the car still going to be here if we get out?” asked Eric.
“It won’t be if you leave it out here, but give me a sec.” Dakota got out and ducked in to make eye contact with Eric again. “Be right back.”
She shut the door and trotted across the street to the two guys in yellow wool caps guarding the gate. The one on the left, she vaguely recalled being named Manuel, but didn’t want to risk pissing him off by calling him the wrong name. The other guy she recognized as Kyle by the silver eyebrow ring in an otherwise movie star perfect dark brown face. “Hey.”
“Hey girl,” said Manuel in Spanish. “You crazy bein’ out here this late.”
“Need a big favor.” Dakota hurried an explanation of what happened. “You guys okay if my friends and I hang here for a day or two while we sort shit out?”
Kyle pulled the gate open. “Shit. You Brass’ blood, yo. An’ you done right by us with that pile o’ bills.”
“Awesome. Thanks guys.” She waved at Eric to bring the car.
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