by Jeff Adams
These people, those cars, they could be part of another attack. Did they know I was here?
John was right—I had to get out.
I grabbed the pack off the floor and scrambled down the stairs as fast as I could. Going out the front door would be stupid. I stopped there, though, and engaged the three locks. From the garage, I’d arm the security system. If they came back, it’d go off and at least alert the cops.
I ran through the house, back the way I’d come. In the garage I unracked the bike and got ready to go into the backyard.
The alarm wouldn’t set. I entered the codes again but instead of a confirmation that it would arm in ten seconds nothing happened.
What the hell?
I tried again, but nothing.
They’d done something. No time to figure it out.
Backpack across my shoulders, I burst out the back door and sprinted across the yard to the fence line, rolling the bike next to me.
I heaved the bike over the fence, which was slightly taller than I was. Regret shot through me at having done that to my expensive, fine-tuned machine. There was no choice, though.
Hockey conditioning came in handy as I pulled myself up the wood planks that had no footholds. I dropped next to the bike, which had landed in a pile of brush.
Looking around, memories rushed back. When we were kids, Mitch and I, along with other friends, would play hide and seek, laser tag and Indiana Jones in these woods. There were plenty of paths and, even though I hadn’t been back here in years, the routes were as clear as ever.
I pulled the phone and called 911.
A woman answered with authority, “911. What’s your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance at 1321 Remington Way.” My voice cracked and quivered. “My uncle. He’s hurt.” A whimper escaped. “Please hurry.”
“What’s his injury?”
“Someone… he’s been… he’s bleeding.”
Should I say he’s shot? Or missing a hand? Keeping details to just enough to get them here seemed enough.
“I’m sending an ambulance and police. Where’s he bleeding from?”
“He’s….” I could barely talk anymore.
“Take a deep breath and try to calm down. Help is on the way. We can stay on the phone until….” Her voice shifted into calmer tone that was more than I could handle.
I gulped air. “He’s been shot and… and… I just got home.”
“Where’s the gun now?”
I hung up. She couldn’t help me. I had to pull myself together and get going. John would be okay. He had to be.
He told me to go. He knew I’d follow his order.
What if that was wrong?
I couldn’t change it now. I had to go before anyone came.
I righted the bike, gave it a quick check, and got on as sirens sounded in this distance.
As I rode I kept my eyes on the trail, trying to dodge potholes, sticks, rocks, and debris that could damage the bike. The repair kit I had with me wasn’t going to be useful if I destroyed the tires. This was a road bike, not a BMX.
I wouldn’t be in the woods long. If I recalled right, the path I chose would bring me out as far from the house as possible.
It wasn’t long before I had to get off the bike as the terrain got tougher.
Before I went farther, I pulled out my TOS phone. Checking in with Lorenzo was required. I suspected Mom had already alerted him, but he needed to know my status and check-in plan.
The phone wouldn’t go into secure mode because it couldn’t lock on to the signal.
The TOS secure network was more robust and widespread than cell networks. Being out of range was nearly impossible.
Running a few diagnostics, the phone kept reporting no signal. There was no malfunction indicated, though.
TOS wouldn’t cut me off. If anything, they’d be trying to contact me. Lorenzo would’ve been automatically notified I’d requested the computers be destroyed.
In seven years I’d never seen an outage. The network had many fail-safes and redundancies.
I’d have to sort it out later. I might’ve stood still too long already.
The bike’s light weight made it easy to carry but climbing over some of the brush wasn’t easy. Emerging in a neighborhood adjacent to ours, I paused to dig out the unregistered phone from my pack. It had enough charge to power up, but it needed to be plugged in as soon as I could stop.
Where should I go? Going south would lead back to MIT, and that was too obvious. I opened Google Maps. Since the phone and apps weren’t registered, any data couldn’t be traced to me, making this the safest way possible to research places to go.
North, toward Tufts University could work. There’d be plenty of Wi-Fi. While I couldn’t access any of the buildings—I wouldn’t want to flash my MIT ID—there’d be places to settle for a few minutes to make a plan. It also wouldn’t take too long to get there.
Usually riding in traffic didn’t bother me, but this trip made me crazy because every car could be a threat. Plus I didn’t have my lights attached, and the safety issues caused additional anxiety. While the lights were in my pack, I didn’t want to take the time to connect them. I’d deal with that later. At least the streets were well lit.
At the edge of the Tufts campus, I used the phone to look for a coffee shop.
Four blocks away was a Starbucks.
As I locked the bike against a light pole in front of the café’s window, I noted the crowd inside and hoped it meant I’d easily blend in. I quickly got a chicken pesto sandwich along with a venti mocha—infusing chocolate into coffee was the only way I liked it. At the register I caught myself just before I used Apple Pay. Almost a rookie mistake using something so easily traced.
I stuffed the phone back into my pocket and pulled out my wallet. Luckily I had a ten. Next time I was alone, I’d move some of the cash to allow easy access.
At a communal table, I wedged in between a hipster and a guy who murmured into his earbud mic. Across the table sat two women, most likely in college, having an animated conversation, and a sullen guy staring into his iced drink. Unwrapping the sandwich, I casually looked around and didn’t see anything out of place. It was difficult not to keep watching, but I didn’t want to look suspicious.
With the TOS phone I got on Wi-Fi and took care to make sure it couldn’t be traced.
The phone held no clues about what happened to the TOS network. Regular cellular service had no disruption. There were plenty of Wi-Fi signals between Starbucks, personal hotspots, and other businesses nearby. On the secure part of the phone, though, there was no signal and no reason for there not to be either. All the apps were still there. If someone at TOS had taken out my phone in the way I had done to my stolen electronics, the phone would’ve been completely dead.
Dammit.
With no TOS network, my computers wouldn’t get destroyed. Maybe they got the signal before the system went down.
I gulped down the sandwich. This place would only be open for about ninety minutes before it’s nine o’clock closing, so I couldn’t waste time coming up with a plan.
What did I need to do?
In the missions I’d been on so far, even if I was temporarily cut off from TOS, I knew they were out there, and they’d establish contact, rescue me, whatever.
But now….
Even my parents didn’t know how to find me. They only knew that something had gone wrong.
I wanted to call Mom or Dad. The teenager wanted what the agent couldn’t allow. I would only call them when I thought I had the situation under control. I wouldn’t risk breaking the protocol we set up.
The plan, however, had never considered that TOS might be under attack.
There was something to try, though. An outside chance.
I pulled the unregistered phone from my pack along with the charger cord since it needed juice. From the TOS phone, I got Lorenzo’s personal number. We were friends outside of work often playing video games togethe
r.
I keyed in the number, saved it, and hit dial.
“Hey, you’ve reached Lorenzo. Busy as usual. Tell me what’s up after the beep.”
Dammit.
Straight to voicemail like the phone was off rather than ignoring a number he didn’t recognize.
There was another way to hopefully get his attention.
I sent a text: It’s Red Turingdor. Some weird shit’s going down in Azeroth. Could really use the help of Tron the Great. Hit me up.
Our Minecraft character names should get his attention, but for anyone intercepting his texts it shouldn’t obviously lead back to me. A shot in the dark but worth it.
No one tells you how to work when all the support is gone or when you’ve left someone behind. What if I’d made the wrong choice not doing more for John? Maybe I should’ve stood my ground at the house and had TOS dispatch help. Or… I didn’t know.
CHAPTER THREE
WHERE COULD I hole up for the night?
The farther away from home, the better. There were so many ways to be tracked with cameras—traffic, ATM, other business with street surveillance not to mention the tracker chip in my neck. Starbucks had at least two visible cameras—provided neither was fake. Staying invisible was difficult at best.
Riding with the helmet gave me some cover but not a lot.
Back to Maps, I looked for cheap hotels that weren’t more than an hour’s ride away. Cheap was key. While I had the stash of cash and cards, there was no way to know how long it needed to last.
I found a place where rooms cost just over a hundred dollars and that was less than five miles away.
Lightning flashed outside the window and a rolling crack of thunder followed in short order.
Great.
I didn’t mind riding in the rain. Sometimes it relaxed me. A thunderstorm was another matter.
It was time to hit the road, before the storm arrived.
Almost out the door, I stopped and went back to get a couple more cold sandwiches and bottles of water, so I’d have another meal on hand.
Hopefully, the hotel would have a room. While I could’ve booked online, I didn’t want to leave any traces.
Drizzle fell. Lightning vividly arched across the sky. Thunder gave a low, ominous rumble—it was the low bass of an action movie amplified in extreme surround sound.
I couldn’t remember what I’d learned in grade school about how to count from the lightening flash to the thunder clap to figure out how far the storm was.
I didn’t pause to Google that. I got the lights mounted and took off.
Once at the hotel, my priority would be to attempt to resurrect the TOS network and get help. Tracking down who’d invaded the house was a close second.
I’d solved a lot of problems, but people invading the house, doing what they did to John, no TOS network—it all seemed much bigger than my abilities to fix.
The weather went to hell after I’d been on the road for a couple of minutes. A downpour soaked me in a matter of seconds. At least the backpack was waterproof. If I was lucky, the hotel had a laundry room.
Riding in the rain sucks when you don’t know the terrain. The GPS provided instructions in my earbuds, but without the phone mounted on the handlebars, I couldn’t see the preview of the road’s curves.
It took longer than expected to get to the hotel. At least there weren’t any jerks on the road. Most drivers gave me space, didn’t try to crowd, and even when the road narrowed, they went around without a honk. It didn’t seem like anyone followed me, but I couldn’t be completely sure.
The hotel looked decent. Surprisingly, it had a bike rack near the front door, which was even under an overhang. Now I wouldn’t have to talk them into allowing me to bring the bike to the room, so it didn’t get further soaked.
I took off the helmet and hung it off the handlebars. Looking around, I tried to take in everything as I ran my hand through my hair to dry it out as best I could. I pulled the lock from my pack and secured the bike.
Putting on my best confident look, I slung the pack over one shoulder, took my helmet in hand, and went for the door. The lobby was warm and made me shudder. I hadn’t realized how cold I’d become.
“Good evening, how can I—” The woman at the front desk stopped short as she looked up and saw my disheveled state. “Goodness. You got caught out in it. How can I help you? Checking in?”
She looked unsure, but at least she wasn’t telling me to get out as I dripped on the tiled floor. “I hope you’ve got a room. I was out cycling, trying to beat the storm and failed.”
I tried not to let my teeth chatter and sound like it was normal for someone to be on a bike on a night like this as if they were headed somewhere even farther away. It didn’t help that I looked my age. Some of my classmates could easily pass as college age, but I looked like a high schooler. Usually I didn’t care, but tonight I needed to sell being older.
“I have some rooms available, yes.” She continued to sound unsure. “I’m sorry, but I have to ask, are you over eighteen? I can’t give a room to a minor.”
I smiled, wanting it to look like I got this all the time. “Oh, yes, of course. Let me get you my ID and credit card.”
Dropping my backpack to the floor so it would only add water to the existing puddle, I retrieved the wallet with my fake driver’s license and the cards. The Massachusetts driver’s license identified me as Jason Robert Karr, age eighteen, along with a MasterCard that would get me through this transaction. Before I stood I slipped my regular wallet into the pack since I didn’t know when I’d be Theo Reese again.
I handed over the cards.
She studied them and then smiled apologetically as if sorry for doubting. “Do you have any room preferences, Mr. Karr?”
“Anything with a hot shower is fine.”
She nodded and clicked away on her keyboard. “Checking out in the morning?”
I hadn’t considered that. If I stayed here, I’d have a base of operations and Wi-Fi. If I wanted to get farther from Boston, I should arrange a new ID. Renting a car was tough if you were under twenty-five. I had to figure that out tonight.
“Two days, please.”
She studied her screen. “We can accommodate that.” She typed more, talking as she went. “Are you on a bike trip or something? I saw you ride up.” She gestured at the doors where my bike was visible.
“Yeah.” I wasn’t going to debate the cover she created for me. “It’s been great. Until tonight.”
She smiled and nodded as she ran the card key over the device that coded it for my room.
“You’re all set. Second floor, room two twenty-five. Elevators are just down the hall on your right. We have a continental breakfast served from six to nine. If you need anything tonight, there are vending machines on each floor and there are a couple of places that deliver as well. Can I do anything else for you?”
“Is there a laundry room? It’d be great to dry these things out.” I gestured at my wet clothes.
“Oh yes, of course. On the third floor in the corner.” She pointed. “If you’ve got some cash, I’ll give you some quarters.”
I dug five dollars out of my wallet and traded it.
“Thank you. I wouldn’t have thought of that right off.” She smiled again. I guess somehow I’d charmed her. “Thanks so much for your help.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Karr. If you need anything else this evening, you can dial zero and I’ll see what we can do.”
My sneakers squeaked and made squishing sounds as I went to the elevators. I wasn’t going to be able to dry the shoes quickly. If there was a hair dryer in the room maybe I could use that. Cold, wet shoes would suck tomorrow.
The room was basic. Given all the travel hockey I’d played, this was a familiar setting. In the bathroom, I set the pack down and stripped before pulling dry clothes out. At least I could be dry.
Dressed in jeans and a Red Wings sweatshirt, I got everything out of the pack. I struggled to focus o
n the task. Images of John filled my mind. I couldn’t shake them—a nightmare while wide awake.
I thought about my parents too. They’d bought me the pack I used because it allowed things like my TOS comms, the contact lenses and the stash of cash I now carried to be tucked into secret areas. Were Mom and Dad okay? If someone got into the house had they been found too?
I sighed.
The waterproof pack would dry fast, so I hung it on one of the hooks behind the bathroom door.
The reflection in the mirror caught me off guard. Dad and I were similar in appearance—no mistaking we were related. Momentarily it felt like he looked back at me. I heaved a giant sob and stepped back a couple of paces only to run into the tub. I ended up sitting down for a moment on the tub’s edge before sliding down to the floor.
I sat in stunned silence for a moment before the sobs came hard and fast.
The sound echoed around the small bathroom—so much so it wouldn’t have surprised me if someone reported the noise. It wouldn’t stop.
John was…. I didn’t know.
I didn’t have Mom and Dad.
Winger lost out to Theo—and not just Theo but kid Theo who really wanted a hug from his parents and hear that everything was going to be okay. Somehow, though, I had to be an agent and do… something.
A shudder started in the middle of my chest and spread. It was small, but it refused to stop.
This wasn’t the time to freak out.
Shudders became quakes, and I struggled to be quiet. I couldn’t draw attention to myself.
Closing my eyes, I tried to use the relaxation exercises Shields, my TOS counselor, had taught me.
Deep breath slowly in. Hold for a count of three. Exhale slowly.
And repeat.
No amount of repeating held back my tears.
CHAPTER FOUR
I’D SPENT the time my clothes dried looking for the TOS network. I couldn’t get to any network or application login screen and even the IP addresses of servers I knew didn’t ping back. It could all be turned off, but that didn’t seem possible. It could be hijacked in some way—cloaked behind a new firewall or moved to new addresses. But why?