The Ghost Network (book 1)

by I. I Davidson

  No, “There is no try!”

  She was halfway down the stairs when she heard the click of a latch.

  “Akane!” It was an urgent whisper, not a yell of horror. A shape stood in the darkness on the landing.

  “Leona.” Her heart plummeted as the older girl hurried down the stairs to her side.

  “Where are you going?” hissed Leona.

  Akane’s throat felt as cobwebby as that utility room window. “I . . . Leona, please, please don’t tell. I have to find John.”

  Leona stared at her, her blue eyes almost glowing in the darkness. Without her makeup she looked younger and a lot more vulnerable.

  “I know,” she whispered at last. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Come with me.”

  <<>>

  “There,” said the older girl, pointing at the screen of the desktop computer.

  John’s bedroom was filled with moonlit darkness. There was a single iron bed with a patchwork quilt and a reindeer-skin throw, a chair with a single neatly folded sweatshirt, and a small display case for travel souvenirs. One whole wall was covered in bookshelves, and the spines weren’t all computer related; Akane could make out sci-fi and ghost stories, volumes of mythology, and the darker kind of fairytales.

  But all she could really focus on was that screen Leona had clicked to life and the blazing red words that filled it.

  GET OUT.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered. John, what’s happening? Are you already in trouble? Am I too late?

  “Neither do I,” said Leona grimly. “John did not write that.”

  “How did you see it?”

  “Oh, I’ve been coming into his room and sneaking onto his computer,” said Leona with a casual shrug. “I mean, obviously I have, for weeks. I’m amazed I’ve been getting away with it for so long. But he’s not allowed to contact us except once a week by landline, so maybe he couldn’t stop me.”

  “Or didn’t want to,” said Akane slowly. “Maybe he was leaving a channel open.”

  “Anyway, he knew I’d try to spy, so I was expecting a message at some point. But that, there? That isn’t it.”

  Akane peered at the screen, frowning. “How do you know?”

  “Oh, that’s definitely not John. He’d be much ruder.” Leona tilted her head. “Is there some way you can check for sure?”

  Akane pulled out the chair swiftly and sat down. “It’s not John’s MO. But it must be coming from his laptop or his phone. He must have set it up to make a copy of what he was doing at the Center, like making notes for later. You know how diligent he is.” Akane’s eyes widened in realization. “It must have been his phone that sent this. It would have copied whenever he connected to an outside server. And that happened when I messaged him on the sly.”

  “So why this? It’s kinda curt.”

  Akane bit her lip. “I don’t know. It looks like his own phone’s been hacked.”

  “He’s in trouble,” said Leona.

  “I think so. Because this—this thing—is not how he works.” Akane tapped at the keyboard, then leaned closer and tried again, her fingertips flying. “And I can’t shift it. Who’s telling him to get out, and why?”

  “‘John is the computer,’ that’s what Dad used to say.” Leona wrinkled her nose in distaste. “But he is not that gruesome font, for a start.”

  This made things worse. In her head, Akane debated for a moment whether to tell Leona the truth about what she’d discovered. But how could she explain it to John’s sister before she even tried to tell John? She didn’t even know whether the girl could keep a secret.

  “I’ve been worried too,” she said at last. “There’ve been a few . . . odd communications. That’s why I’m going to find him.”

  “What, by sneaking out the utility room window?” Leona grinned. “I’ve tried that. The security light comes on, and Grandpa’s dogs raise a fit. It’s better to go out my bedroom window, down onto the lower roof. But—” she sighed. “Even if you made it . . . I don’t know about your grandma, but Mom will have the whole Fairbanks police force after you in about five minutes.”

  Akane’s shoulders slumped. “But I have to get to John!” she blurted.

  “Sh!” Leona glanced at the door. “I think so too, but there’s a better way. My boyfriend, Brody, is a pilot, and he flies to Wales Airport like all the time. How about I arrange a girls’ trip to the national park out there?” She grinned. “Well, teenagers’ trip. Then I can get quality time with Brody, and you can go check on John. There’ll be some kind of ferry or something going out to the island, I bet.”

  “Seriously?” Akane’s eyes widened. “That would be so much faster too.”

  “Yup. And meanwhile your grandma can hang out in Fairbanks with my mom for a few days, blissfully unaware and not calling the cops.”

  Akane sprang out of the chair and hugged her. “You are the best big sister.”

  “I know,” sighed Leona, tossing her hair. “Just make sure you tell John when you see him.”

  Neither Adam nor Leo would meet John’s eyes. The Shark Twins didn’t have their usual cocksure, arrogant look; they were propped against the wall of the basketball court, grim faced and sulky, ignoring everyone. No wonder, thought John, after that tongue-lashing from Roy Lykos. Maybe they even felt guilty about their contagious malware wrecking the entire school system.

  But that didn’t mean he couldn’t add to their shame. Anger rising inside him, John scrambled to his feet.

  Salome tugged at his arm, alarmed. “Where are you going? You’re in enough trouble for being late.”

  “I’m going to tell those two what I think of them.”

  “You go right ahead,” said Slack, standing up. “I want to hear this myself.”

  Salome grabbed his belt and dragged him back down. “Jake! Don’t you get involved,” she snapped. “If John has to get it off his chest, let him. It doesn’t mean you all have to start a fight.”

  Slack looked like he was about to argue, but he subsided with a scowl. “Yes, Mom.”

  John clenched his fists and made his way over to the two boys, stepping over his fellow students crowded on the floor. Imogen Black gave him only a fleeting glance before returning to her conversation with Carlos Sanchez Ramirez. Ms. Reiffelt wasn’t even in the hall any longer; she’d gone with the other staff members to fight the malware. Nobody would care, thought John, if he scrubbed those two malicious bugs off the system—

  Stop that. Shaking himself, he halted in front of Adam and Leo. “What did you do to my phone?”

  Adam turned sharply. LED light glinted on his glasses. “What?”

  “The hack on my phone. The frozen screen.”

  “Your phone got hacked before Irma La Douche confiscated it?” Leo grinned suddenly. “Ha ha! That’ll teach you to play with the big boys, noob.”

  “You know it got hacked!” snapped John. Thank goodness I didn’t let on that I still have it; that was close. “Get it cleaned off as soon as you get your laptops back, or—”

  “Or what?” Adam shoved forward, bringing his face close to John’s. “You’ll tell the teacher?” he mocked in a singsong voice. “You little punk. They’re not going to discipline me. I’m Rick Kruz’s son, and I belong here more than you ever will.”

  His breath smelled of pepperoni, and John recoiled in disgust. “Your dad’s Rick Kruz. Big deal. That doesn’t give you the right to wreck every device in the school!”

  Adam grabbed his collar and yanked him closer. “You’ve got some nerve. If you hadn’t—”

  Leo gave his friend a sharp, deliberate kick in the leg. Adam caught his breath and pressed his lips together.

  “If I hadn’t what?” demanded John.

  For a moment there was panic in Adam’s eyes. Then his face relaxed into its usual sneer. “If you’d set up a prop
er firewall, nobody could have hacked your stupid phone. Don’t blame us just because you were careless.”

  “So, it was you! I swear I’ll—”

  “We’ve got nothing to do with that!” exploded Leo, shoving him away from Adam. “You think we’d waste our time on you? We’ve got better things to do, Laine. Go fix your own mistakes.”

  They were both glowering at him now. John’s chest heaved with fury, but the teachers were starting to throw glances their way. Salome was right: the last thing he needed was to get into even more trouble, after he’d arrived panting in digital quarantine just as the doors were closing. And he certainly didn’t want any awkward questions about what he’d been doing to make him late and what he might have overheard.

  Turning on his heels, John stalked away, ignoring the muttered insults from Adam and Leo. I know they did it. Those vicious—

  He hesitated, staring down at a rare clear patch of floor. No, you don’t, Parallel John reminded him in the back of his brain. You don’t know they did it. And they’d been adamant they weren’t responsible.

  John didn’t know Adam and Leo well, and he didn’t want to, but he couldn’t help thinking that if they’d hacked his phone, they’d want him to know it. The pair had gloated openly about hijacking Eva’s laptop. Why bother to deny that they’d compromised John’s phone?

  John felt a quiver of uncertainty. They wouldn’t deny it. They’d laugh in my face. So why hadn’t they?

  Into the fog of doubt crept a small, clear moment from that confrontation. You’ve got some nerve. If you hadn’t—

  And then Leo had kicked Adam, quite sharply.

  Adam was definitely the alpha in that twisted friendship, John thought, and he’d never have expected Leo to shut him up.

  If I hadn’t done—what? The Shark Twins hadn’t been talking about John’s phone at that point; they’d been talking about the malware that had infected the school. What did I do?

  John glanced toward Imogen and Carlos. The two teachers were deep in conversation, their backs half turned to him. Making a spur-of-the-moment decision, he headed casually toward the weight room corridor.

  It was the outer door of the gym complex that had been locked; the swing doors between the basketball court and the weight room didn’t even have a latch. With a last quick glance over his shoulder, John pushed one side ajar and slipped through.

  The low hubbub of conversation in the basketball court faded to almost nothing. John’s heart beat rapidly as he stared at the empty corridor. So what now, clever boy? he wondered sarcastically. There was no way past the outer gym door.

  He turned to the plate glass windows of the workout room. The displays on the aerobic equipment were all still frozen on that irritating low-res dinosaur. John let out an exasperated sigh and opened the door.

  It smelled of sweat that had been polished with disinfectant wipes, but at least it was completely quiet. Climbing onto one of the stationary cycles, John gave the pedals a desultory push. The screen didn’t greet him by name. Instead, the velociraptor grinned at him obstinately.

  John pressed his finger hard on the display. If you hadn’t—If I hadn’t what?

  And with a suddenness that shocked the breath from his lungs, the dinosaur vanished. Letters formed in the emptiness.

  John Laine is on the stationary cycle. Hello John Laine!

  How in the actual—he thought, blinking. Is the bug fixed already?

  The letters dissolved and reformed. John Laine is on the computer.

  No, I’m not, you stupid machine. That isn’t how this works. Frowning, John prodded the screen again, hard enough to leave a faded impression of his forefinger. But the screen wouldn’t cooperate.

  John is on the computer.

  John gritted his teeth. “I’m in the gym,” he told it out loud. “That bug really got to you, huh?”

  John is on the computer.

  He gave a growl of annoyance. “Suit yourself.” There was no reason for a cursor to appear; there wasn’t a keypad. A touch of the fingerprint was how this thing operated. So why had one suddenly blinked into life, flickering between the letters?

  The cursor blinked and jumped back, deleting a word.

  John is the computer.

  He froze.

  John is the computer.

  His throat was so tight that he could only whisper it. “Dad?”

  No. Dad’s dead. The room spun around him. Could it be Roy Lykos? Some bizarre test, maybe—or was Roy trying to help John? If they’d met at some medical conference, his dad could have mentioned that family phrase to Roy, told him about it for amusement. Roy might have remembered.

  No. Why would he remember a passing conversation with a man he hardly knew? Why would Dad even tell him? Short of breath, John slammed the screen with his forefinger, over and over again. What kind of malware taunts you with a family joke?

  At last the words dissolved, and he panted with relief. Something sparked on the display again, and this time it flashed so brightly it looked enraged.

  DO YOU KNOW HOW CLOSE YOU CAME?

  John flinched back so fast, he almost tumbled off the bike. The meaning of the words clicked instantly in his head. They linked so smoothly with a recent memory that he could hear Roy’s angry voice as he berated Adam and Leo. Do you know how close he came?

  He’d been focused on Roy’s infuriated bark: That’s what triggered this shutdown! The man’s previous words hadn’t registered at the time. But there they were now, right in front of him in Helvetica Bold.

  DO YOU KNOW HOW CLOSE YOU CAME?

  It was me, John thought as a chill rippled up and down his spine. It was something I did. But what, and when? He’d only wanted to clean that malware off of Eva’s computer. It was all he’d focused on for days—weeks, almost. And he’d come nowhere near succeeding, until that moment on another planet when all the Parallel Johns had gotten busy in his head . . .

  DO YOU KNOW HOW CLOSE YOU CAME?

  The screen was changing yet again. Shooting a nervous glance at the other aerobic equipment, John could make out only that maddening dinosaur—but this solitary display, on this bike alone, was dissolving into an image. The shape of a boy, shattering into pixels. It reformed and disintegrated again.

  John’s heart was beating so hard he thought it might break his ribcage. He could only watch, dizzy and sick, as the vision from his own private dreams was played out over and over on the screen in front of him.

  He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. The image was still there, replaying at four-second intervals: the boy who died in a blizzard of pixels. Was it a boy? He wasn’t sure anymore. He leaned close to the screen, shading it desperately with his cupped hands. It might be a girl.

  It was a girl. It was Eva Vygotsky.

  John didn’t know how long he sat there, immobile. He didn’t want to kill Eva. He hadn’t killed her. He wouldn’t kill her. How did this machine know about his nightmares?

  John swung off the bike; his thoughts were a turmoil of indecision. As he stood clenching and unclenching his fists, the glass door of the gym flung open. Salome and Slack stared at him.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Salome in a strained whisper. “You’re supposed to be in the court!”

  “You sure pick the wrong time for a workout,” said Slack. “Come on, you’re going to get us all in trouble.”

  “I can’t go back in there.” John’s heart thrashed in his chest. “I think someone at this school has it in for me. The machines sure do.”

  “What?” demanded Salome. “Are you crazy?”

  “Don’t be nuts,” scoffed Slack. “This isn’t Terminator.”

  Frustrated and bewildered, John clutched his head. “Not the machines, of course—but someone’s sending me messages through them.”

  “They’re sending everyone a message.” Sa
lome pointed at the velociraptor displays.

  “And the message,” said Slack with a smirk, “is that Adam and Leo are jerks.”

  “Quiet, Jake,” snapped Salome, and Slack was instantly quiet. “John, calm down. What are you talking about?”

  He took deep breaths and shut his eyes as he wondered how to explain. “The messages I’m getting are different. It’s not the malware. They’re trying to scare me, or—or warn me. I’m not sure which. I think maybe Roy hacked my phone and those machines. He could. He’d know how.” John blinked his eyes open. “And if it’s him, he’s warning me about something.”

  “Warning you about what?” Salome raised her eyebrows disapprovingly. “I see you’ve managed to keep your phone, John. Give it to me.”

  “It’s useless, anyway. I can’t operate it at all.” Meekly, he took it from his pocket and handed it over; she took it and frowned. John turned to Slack. “You know I told you about that conversation I overheard? Between Yasuo and Ms. Reiffelt? They were arguing—really fighting. About flies that they’d caught. Someone they had in their possession.”

  “Odd . . . ” murmured Salome. “But you know the Center works with a lot of corporations . . . ”

  “It wasn’t about some commercial research project; I know it. It sounded more sinister, and they were talking about people. About something that started the day the two of us arrived.”

  “Pfft. What would be special about us?” But Slack scratched at the palm of his left hand and looked suddenly nervous.

  “Slack—we were the only students who did arrive that day. Ms. Reiffelt is up to something bad, and it’s something to do with us, and Yasuo’s involved.”

  “Yasuo Yamamoto?” Salome almost dropped the phone.

  “Is there another Yasuo?” snapped John. “And there’s this hidden room at the bottom of the school, Lab 31. Roy was investigating it; I followed him—oh, I know it sounds crazy, and I don’t have any proof. You’ll have to take my word for it. And I’ve been having these nightmares, and—”