“Your tracker is the only one that operates at this frequency.”
“So you could single me out if you wanted to.”
His expression jerked like I’d just slapped him in the face. But before I could push further, he said, “Your frequency is so infinitesimally different that you would have to know what you were looking for to see it.”
“And the Ghosts do?”
“We do. We knew of an anomaly out there, someone whose tracker would act differently. And you’re that someone.”
“Lucky me.”
The corner of his mouth curved upward. “I wish I had half your luck.”
“You can have all of it. As soon as I figure out how to get this thing out of my head. Then maybe everyone will leave me alone.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“No?” But even as I said it, I knew he was right, at least about the simplicity of the situation. “How did this happen?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but it’s clear that someone altered your signal to allow for loopholes. Your tracker has a function no other trackers have.”
“Like what?”
“You can mask your normal tracker functions. And you’ve figured out how to control it.”
“I accidentally shut it off a couple times. That’s hardly controlling it.” Great. He thought I was some savior, but really, I was just some stupid kid trying to do the one thing my dad had taught me.
“No, I don’t think that’s what happened. Your tracker is still on, but that slightly different frequency is keeping it hidden from the authorities.”
“How do I know that image is real?” He was sounding crazier by the minute, and I wouldn’t let him drag me down that rabbit hole so easily.
“No amount of scanning on my end is going to convince you, so believe what you like.” He turned back to his computer. “But I have better things to do than forge a tracker signal.”
“So no matter how accidental, I did this?” When he nodded, chills raced through my body, and my head spun with confusion. Unless he was a world-renowned poker player, he was dead serious. There was no faking that face. And yet despite pieces ringing true, I was still missing part of the bigger picture. “But how? I didn’t even know I did it the first time.”
“That’s what we hope to learn. There’s a weakness in the tracker network, and you’re going to help us find it.” He leaned against the desk, crossed his arms over his chest, and tossed his hair out of his eyes with a flick of his head.
“Hold on a sec.” I jabbed my finger into the air, wishing it were Bailen’s chest I was prodding. Now he was toying with me. The truth churned like a muddy watercolor. “You want to use me in your war against the tracker network?”
“Well, to put it bluntly, yes.”
“You’re insane. You know they’ll find me when my tracker resets.” I didn’t want another run-in with the authorities, but he didn’t know that.
“Your tracker isn’t going to reset. It’s operating on a whole new level. A level we hope to exploit.”
“I don’t believe you.” I blinked, trying to open a mental pad. Nothing happened. I pushed thought after thought after thought onto the network, but it didn’t respond. Bailen tilted his head to the side with a slight smile as I repeatedly tried to access my tracker. Without it, the authorities would never find me. There were definite advantages to that, but it also meant no one else could find me, either. Thoughts of my family and friends swirled through my head. Dad would love it. I wished he were here—any of my family or friends, really. But I knew deep down whom I needed most. I collapsed into the hold of the muscular guy. He loosened his grip, and I fell to my knees.
“I’ll fix it.” The phrase came out as a hoarse whisper. It was the least accurate thing I’d said all week. I had no idea how to fix my tracker. I wasn’t sure anyone did.
“Even if you could figure out how to override the new frequency, which I wouldn’t recommend, your tracker’s main functions may not work as originally intended. We have no idea what toying with that glitch might do to your head.”
“You’re just trying to scare me.”
“You’re scary enough on your own with all that crazy blinking and twitching.”
I stopped and attempted not to blink like I’d entered into an eternal staring contest. Maybe the safety of the overbearing authorities was better than joining a room full of outdated, techy terrorists, most of whom were around my age. Were these really my only options?
I let out a long breath. “Why should I help you?” I didn’t really want to know the answer to that question, but maybe if I played along, I’d find a better way out than becoming a Ghost lab rat.
Bailen knelt by me so he was eye level. His brilliant green eyes softened, and his gaze lingered a second longer than expected before dropping to the floor. “If you don’t, the authorities win. This tech will continue to control our lives. Taking away more and more liberties until we’re prisoners of this world and everything in it.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because we already are prisoners. Most people just don’t know it yet.”
I blinked, unable to speak. The tracker network was hardly a prison. It was knowledge. It was an instant worldwide connection. It was freeing.
“There are a billion new laws related to tracker technology. The authorities rule with an iron fist, above the law, and don’t give a crap about anyone.” He waved his arms, indicating the people around the room watching us, who nodded in agreement. “They just want the damn tech to work, to keep us passive. If that’s not prison, I don’t know what is.”
“Last time I checked, access to unlimited knowledge was the opposite of prison.” The part of me desperate to grasp on to the familiar piece of my life refused to give in. If anything, the hive was a prison, no windows, one exit, and no options.
“Unlimited knowledge? Is that what you call a heavily monitored network and blocked searches?”
I clamped my mouth shut, a good comeback just out of reach. I knew the frustration of blocked searches all too well. “What about the lack of crime?”
“That world is a myth. No one is perfect. We proved that yesterday.”
“You’re taking credit for that? Someone died!”
“No, I’m not. It’s just…”
Maybe I was getting to him. Maybe I’d get the help I needed on my terms.
Before I could fire back again, Bailen said, “Do you think you can take one step without the authorities knowing where you are? Whom you’re with? What you’re doing?”
“That’s common knowledge.”
“You want common knowledge? The authorities, our government, Global Tracking Systems—they all work so closely together.”
“So what’s your point?”
“The lines are blurred.”
He could say that again. Everything was blurry mess. But it wasn’t anything the world didn’t already know.
“They gave everyone this present but refuse to let anyone open it to see what’s inside. There’s a reason they don’t tell people about the history of this tech or what it’s potentially capable of.”
“We all know the benefits outweigh the bad stuff.” I spewed the lines they’d always told us in school like a reflex. I’d been spoon-fed all the wonderful things about trackers my whole life. And there was no denying parts of it were great. But in the last few days alone, between the restricted access, the annoying blinking lights, and the invasion of privacy, I had to wonder if it was worth it. But it was my life. I didn’t know the world any other way. If the tracker network was gone, how would I talk to my friends? Try to keep in contact with Jake?
“Benefits? They give you a shiny picture about infinite knowledge, health monitoring, and protection. But if you stop for one minute and consider the possibilities, it’s downright terrifying.”
“Terrifying how?” I couldn’t stop myself.
“Global Tracking Systems put a chip in your brain. Your brain! The center that co
ntrols every function in your body. They took away a piece of your free will. One slip, one malfunction, you’re done. That’s a risk we should have never been asked to take. And don’t even get me started on tracker diagnostics.”
His words pounded into me. Some of what he was saying rang true. The authorities had hurt me, but there were rules around trackers for a reason. The world was more connected with trackers in it.
“Let’s say that I believe you.” I didn’t know what I believed anymore, but I humored the guy. “How is your messing with my tracker any different than what the authorities have already done?”
“Human decency. We aren’t in this for the tech. We want to protect people. From the tech, from the authorities, and from themselves. Give the world their free will back, return them their privacy.”
“And if I help you, you’ll protect me from the authorities?”
“With everything we have.”
Hiding from the authorities was one thing, but it was only a matter of time before they caught up to me with their unlimited resources. Unless no one knew where I was. And even then, trusting the Ghosts was a huge risk.
He could still be jerking me around. “If I say yes, I can’t go home, can I?” I doubted they would let me go home if I said no, but I had to ask.
He shook his head. “If you go back, the authorities will experiment on you and try to figure out what happened. If you’re lucky, they’ll replace your tracker and let you go on with your life. But I’m guessing they’d rather throw you in lockup and study your chip, make you disappear. You’re too big of a threat to them.”
He was right. My options sucked. Never go home or go home and let them turn my brains to mush. Jake’s refusal to answer messages was bad enough. But my parents, my friends, Harlow—they’d all try to cover for me if I went home. I couldn’t let them risk their lives. But if I stayed here, it was only a matter of time before these goons were lobotomizing me as well. I couldn’t trust the Ghosts. Both options led to torture if I was lucky. And if I wasn’t? I couldn’t face that realization.
The room spun like a tornado. I gasped for air. I heaved, but only a dry cough erupted. I swayed as the room closed in around me.
“Kai.” The distant voice sounded familiar, but the rest of the sentence evaporated into the fog, engulfing me. It was the last thing I heard before everything went black.
Nine
I awoke in a darkened room. The only furniture beside the bed was a dilapidated dresser with an empty slot for a drawer, a chipped wooden table with a single lamp, and a gray folding chair. I blinked, trying to access the tracker clock—nothing. I tried again.
Emptiness.
My head was empty.
When I rolled over and saw the concrete wall next to the bed, my Ghost encounter came rushing back. Was I their prisoner?
I wasn’t sure I wanted to help them, but I didn’t have a choice. Even if I snuck away, I couldn’t hide from the authorities without help. At least the Ghosts would feed me and put a roof over my head. They wouldn’t let the key to their whole plan die. I had a headache just thinking about it.
After a few ragged breaths, I wished for something familiar. I didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone.
A void formed in my mind, ripping through the place where those I loved resided. Lydia was my sounding board, Harlow always knew how to comfort me, Mom made me smile, and Dad could run circles around these primitive techies.
I’d give my left arm to get my hands on a scrap of paper and some charcoal. I could draw them before they faded from memory. But finding that was as likely as regaining access to the network. All I wanted was five seconds on the tracker network to watch my videos and see my pictures. But my bum tracker was what had gotten me into a giant mess in the first place. Funny how you take something for granted for so long, and you don’t really appreciate it until it’s gone.
I sat up and pushed my bare feet to the rough, concrete floor. I still wore the T-shirt and jeans I’d arrived in. My body ached with exhaustion and was slimy from a lack of shower. At least they hadn’t violated my privacy. I found my tennis shoes in the corner by the only door to the room. I pressed my ear to the cold, steel door, straining to hear.
Silence.
Nothing was getting through that.
I pulled the lever and it jerked to the left with a metallic shriek. Great. I’m sure the whole world heard that. The door lurched open a few inches with a clang. I peered out the crack at a guy wearing torn jeans and a white T-shirt. He slouched in a chair next to the door. His scraggly blond hair fell over his cheeks, covering his eyes. When he lifted his head, I gasped. I covered my gaping mouth to avoid drawing attention.
What kind of sick mind games were the Ghosts playing?
My heart exploded into a spastic rhythm. My breath caught in my chest. Not ready to find out what kind of torture this might be, I scrambled to slam the door. How could they dangle him in front on me?
Jake.
The one thing I needed most for so long staring back at me. The impossibility was too convenient, and yet perfect all at once.
He shot up from the chair and reached for the door but screamed as his fingers crunched between the door and the frame. I backed away and fell onto the bed, trembling. My memory instantly transported back to one of our worst fights as kids that had ended with his fingers smashed in a closing door. But the memories weren’t the same as the video recall on my tracker. And I wasn’t sure if I should be shutting him out or letting him in.
The door flew open. The dirt smudges on Jake’s wrinkled T-shirt stood out as he stomped across the room, yanked the chair away from the table, and dropped into it backward. His stalking angry routine was the same, but his longer hair and thinner frame were different. He massaged his fingers, glaring at me. I stared back, unblinking. He was waiting for me to speak first. While I wasn’t content to sit in silence forever, I couldn’t let him win, either. It was good to see him, but the hurt of him ignoring me was like being suffocated.
Finally, he broke. “Kai, talk to me.”
I jerked at my nickname. For the first time, it sounded awkward coming from his lips. I shook my head and started pulling fuzz balls off the blanket on the bed. After so much time, I didn’t know what to say to him.
He stood from the chair and sat on the far side of the bed. “You and I both know you can’t stay mad at me forever.”
Funny, he didn’t know how stubborn I’d gotten since he’d left, since he’d stopped answering my messages.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a devilish half-smile cross his face. “Don’t make me resort to the ketchup joke.”
A snort escaped before I could stop it. Something about that stupid joke got me every time. I studied him. His pale blue eyes were full of the same love and kindness they’d always held. He didn’t look like a prisoner, but his mere presence set off waves of confusion in my mind. How had he ended up here?
Despite my confusion, a smile tugged at my lips. I’d missed him. He was the one person I wanted more than anyone right now. The one person I needed when shit hit the fan. He was my comfort zone.
If he was here, then things were far more complicated than I’d imagined. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question, but I already know the answer.”
“You haven’t returned any of my messages. You’ve ignored me for months. What kind of mess are you in?” The real question I wanted to ask was what kind of mess had I gotten myself into?
“They need me.” He inched closer. “And we need you.”
“We? So that’s it? You’re one of them?”
His single nod sent ripples of anger through me that left me seeing red. After everything we’d been through together, he was ready to throw it all away.
“How could you do this to me?” I asked. “You’ve lied about everything.”
“Just give them a chance.”
“A chance?” He had to be kidding. This wasn’t a ball toss at a carnival.
“You want me to betray everything I’ve ever known?” But I didn’t need an answer from him. He’d already betrayed our former life. Not only had he ignored me, but he’d joined the Ghosts.
“You already have just by being here.” His tone had a hard edge.
He was trying to drag me down with him. “I didn’t have a choice. They were going to turn me into a lab rat if I stayed. You have no idea what they did to me.” I shook as I tried to stave off the painful memories of the needles and the probe. At a time I needed him most, he hadn’t been there. And the painful realization was written all over his face. Maybe I hadn’t lost him.
Jake moved closer, pulling me into a hug.
My muscles eased, but I drew away. “How I can trust you? Trust them?” He was a terrorist.
How could the one person I needed most be a terrorist?
He laughed—not his usual carefree laugh, but a deep, menacing one. I shivered.
“You’ve questioned me your whole life,” he said, “but you’ve always loved me. Isn’t that enough?”
“No. I refuse to be the Ghosts’ guinea pig.”
“You wouldn’t be a guinea pig.”
“Then help me understand why I should help them.”
He opened and closed his mouth three times, then he shook his head. It was like he wanted to tell me something but couldn’t find the words. Just like that note. He never seemed short on words when he was writing, and yet here we were.
“Fine. If you can’t tell me why I should be here, then tell me how you decided it was the right place for you?”
His gaze dropped to the floor. I prepared myself for the lie about to slip from his lips, but when he lifted his head, tears welled and were seconds from spilling down his face. I wanted to reach out my hand, but I wrung my fingers in my lap instead, still unsure what to make of Jake’s decision.
“After the accident, I lost my best friend. It changed my priorities.”
Of course he meant the motorbike accident. The one that had prevented me from ever getting on a bike. Mom and Dad never tired of reminding me. Everything always went back to the accident with Jake. It was his go-to excuse. But it was also why we’d gotten so close. Despite everything, I wasn’t going to let him get away with that excuse. Not like Mom and Dad did. “Denny’s in a coma. He’s not dead.”
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