Operating System (The System Series Book 3)

by Andrea Ring

  But it was.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Tessa and I sleep in, but neither of us can really relax. Dad and Erica have a day left.

  One day.

  We head home around lunch. I drop Tessa off with her mom at Dad’s house, then I drive back to my house to be with Dad.

  He shakes my hand at the door. “I’m so happy for you,” he says.

  I release his hand and give him a hug. “Thanks. Me, too.”

  We hold the hug longer than we ever have. I finally pull away on a sigh.

  “What’s the plan?” I ask him.

  “Hole up, keep our heads down,” he says. “Keep our eyes open.”

  I gulp and sit on the couch. “Is there anything you need to do or…you want to do?”

  “Can you get me a notebook?” he asks. “I’d like to write a few things down.”

  “Of course.”

  I go to my room and rummage through a few of the boxes until I find a spiral-bound notebook and a pen. I go back out and hand them to Dad. “Anything else?”

  “Not now. Tyrion and Jack will be here at five. Tessa’s coming, right?”

  “Yeah, and she’s bringing Em. Are you sure you don’t want Erica to come?”

  Dad grimaces. “If there’s any chance I’ll live through this, she has to stay away. You know that.”

  “Well, if you change your mind—”

  “I won’t. Can you give me a few hours alone?”

  I sigh. “Sure. I’ll come back with Tessa for dinner.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen Dad laugh so hard as he did last night.

  We had a family barbecue, and we tried to put the impending deadline out of our minds, and we just enjoyed each other. Tessa and Jack had their phones out and were snapping photos and taking video all night.

  I suspect Erica asked them to.

  This morning, all that levity is gone. Everyone spent the night here, in sleeping bags on the living room floor (okay, Dad got the couch), and now we’re all so wound up you can hear us twang when we breathe. Dad’s scribbling in his notebook, Jack and Tyrion are occupying Em, and Tessa and I…we’re basically pacing the house, waiting for the nastiness to start.

  “Do you need to call your mom again and check in?” I ask Tessa. We’ve been talking to her every thirty minutes, but as it nears noon, I know Erica must be panicky.

  Tessa doesn’t reply. She just takes her phone out and dials.

  “Hey. No, nothing happening. Just giving you an update…What? No! No, Mom! It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is can…No! Shit!”

  “What is it?” I say, ready to jump into the car and ride to Erica’s rescue.

  “She’s coming over!”

  “What? Why? She can’t! We’re so close! She has to wait!”

  “She’s already in her car!” Tessa yells.

  I rush to the front door and yank it open. Erica pulls up to the curb at the same moment.

  “Stay there!” I yell at her as she steps out of the car. “Erica, don’t come in!”

  “I have to, Thomas,” she says. “I have to talk to him.”

  I reach her side and grab her hands. “It can wait until tomorrow. One day. It can wait.”

  “It can’t.”

  “What can’t wait?”

  We both look up to see Dad framed in the doorway. He looks sadder than I’ve ever seen him.

  “What can’t wait, Erica?” he asks again.

  “Oh, Mike,” she whispers. “I love you. Forever and ever, I love you.”

  Dad smiles, and a tear leaks from his eye. “I love you, too.”

  Erica steps away from me and walks around the car. She stops at the edge of the front lawn. “I’m pregnant.”

  “What?”

  Erica smiles through her tears. “I had to tell you. It’s only a week along, the night with the knife…I won’t come in the house, I’ll leave right now, but I had to tell you.”

  Dad bows his head. When he lifts it, tears are running down his face. And then a fierce light shines in his eyes.

  The best news of his life…

  “No, Dad!” I yell, but my father ignores me.

  He takes off running across the lawn and launches himself at Erica. She laughs and throws her arms around him.

  He gasps.

  Erica’s still laughing, still clinging, but I see Dad’s arms go limp, and I watch Erica suddenly take his weight, and her eyes widen as she realizes something’s wrong.

  I run over to them. I help her slide Dad to the grass.

  His eyes are stuck open, and his mouth opens and closes like a fish on land gasping for air.

  I grab my knife out of my pocket, slice Dad’s t-shirt, and slash open his chest.

  Tessa, Jack and Tyrion crowd around as I cut open my palm.

  I press my hand to Dad’s chest and say a million prayers.

  FAQs

  Do you have a website? Visit me at www.andrearing.net. If you comment on my blog or send me an email, I will answer.

  Can I sign up for your mailing list? Please! Sign up by clicking here!

  Have you written any other books? Yes! For the latest list, visit my website or Amazon. Get Honor System, Book 4 in The System Series, here!

  Do you believe in God and the soul? I think so. The arguments for the existence of God are pretty strong. But I still debate the subject often in my head, just like the characters do in this series. I think it’s important to be open to every possibility and respectful of everyone’s beliefs.

  You’ve made the series pretty religious. Are you sure you don’t have an agenda? My only agenda is to entertain. If I get you to think about some of these issues, too, then I’m ecstatic. I’m not trying to sway you one way or the other.

  I’m actually not a religious person at all, but I took a ton of religious studies classes in college. I find the link between people’s religious beliefs and their behavior and motivations fascinating.

  Note to my readers: Thank you for following the journey of Thomas and Tessa. As an independent author, I rely solely on my readers for support. I’d love to hear from you! Send me an email. Write a review on Amazon or Goodreads. Comment on my blog. You’re the reason I write, and I’ll never forget that.

  Book Excerpt

  And now read a chapter from Andrea Ring’s

  Breaking the Surface

  Breaking the Surface

  Chapter One: BEA

  "Why haven't you picked a table?" Nate asks, annoyance clouding his face.

  I smile and kiss him.

  "Nice to see you, too. I was just deciding."

  Nate sighs and looks at the ceiling.

  "We can take that booth, there by the window, or we can sit outside. It's nice enough out, but there's a breeze, so, you know, our napkins might get blown away."

  Before I can even finish explaining, Nate walks away from me to the booth. He sits down and waves me over. I slide in next to him and try not to show my own irritation.

  "We might get the sun in our eyes," I tell him. "The sun's moving even as we speak—"

  "Jesus Christ!" Nate says, trying to keep his voice down. "It's a table, not the great debate."

  I snap my mouth shut. "Fine. Booth it is." I lean over him to the end of the table and grab a menu.

  "Bea, we eat here every frickin' week." He snatches the menu out of my hand and puts it back.

  "I'm not sure what I want," I say.

  "BLT, extra-crispy on the B." He shifts in the booth and faces me. "You order the same damn thing every time."

  "Sorry to be so predictable," I say.

  He sighs again. "I don't give a shit what you eat. That's not the point." He picks up his napkin and starts tearing it into little pieces. "We don't need to discuss every decision. You don't have to weigh the consequences of things that have no consequences. Can't you just make a choice like a normal human being?"

  I lean away from Nate and concentrate on staying calm. We've had this discussi
on before, but he's never been angry like this.

  "It's how I'm built," I mumble. "It's how I communicate. I like to talk about decisions. You know that."

  "Well," he says, taking a deep breath, "it's not how I'm built." Nate's eyes soften, and he grabs my hand. "You're a cool girl, Bea."

  I smile at him. "Thanks."

  He shakes his head. "Don't. I need to say this. I can't do this anymore."

  I pull my hand out of his and stuff it in my lap. "You can't do what anymore?"

  At least he has the courtesy to look me in the eye. "Us. You're exhausting. I can't...I need to remove myself from the discussion."

  I want to argue with him, but my pride steals my tongue. I just nod my head.

  "So we're cool?" he asks.

  I force myself to smile. "Sure. I get it. No hard feelings."

  He looks relieved, and I want to smack him.

  "So...do you still want to eat?"

  I scoot out of the booth and make the easiest decision of my life. "Let's not."

  Nate stands and we walk out of Watson's to the street. He gives me an awkward hug.

  "Thanks for not making a scene," he whispers into my hair. He lets me go. "It's one of the things I always liked about you - you're not some girly-girl who uses tears to manipulate a guy."

  I smile for real and pat his cheek, maybe a little harder than is appropriate. "What's there to cry about?"

  And I turn my back on him and head for home.

  Dedication

  To Hannah, my daughter, who is a beautiful person inside and out. You are everything I ever dreamt of and so much more. I must have been some hero in a past life to be your mother in this one.

  Follow your dreams. You’re never too young, or too old, or too busy. The best time to make it happen is now.

  About the Author

  Andrea Ring was born and raised in Orange County, California. At age eight, she wrote an essay proclaiming she wanted to be an “auther” when she grew up. It only took her thirty years to realize her dream.

  She enjoys beating her four children at Boggle, reading science fiction and fantasy, and eating bacon. She hates to exercise, but loves taking walks with her family through Old Towne Orange. She's lucky to be married to the love of her life.

  Her favorite ride at Disneyland is Indiana Jones.

  Her favorite movies are The Princess Bride and Better Off Dead.

  She thinks every book should contain a love story.

  Did we mention her love of bacon?

  Visit her website at http://www.andrearing.net.

  Copyright Page

  OPERATING SYSTEM Copyright © 2014 by Andrea Ring

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Originally published in 2014 by Square Gorilla Press. http://www.squaregorilla.com.

  Cover art and design:

  Jay Walsh, http://jaymeanoiche.daportfolio.com

  Acknowledgements

  Jay, I know it’s been a tough year all around. Thank you for sharing your art despite all the craziness. And thank you for being my friend.