Tracker220

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Tracker220 Page 17

by Jamie Krakover


  I stretched for the next good crevice in the side of the building, but my sweaty fingers slipped off the edge. I grabbed for my previous hold then waited for my pounding heart to slow. After wiping my palms on my shirt, I attempted to pull up again and successfully secured the hold. Two more moves. I struggled up another arm length. One more move and I could reach the windowsill.

  When I grabbed on to the ledge and hauled myself up, I was sweating through my clothes and gulping in air. Despite that, the climb was exhilarating. From the height, the cars and sidewalks below seemed so trivial.

  “Damn,” I muttered. Why had I left my curtains closed?

  Pressing my ear against the cool glass of the window, I listened for signs of my parents. Silence. Maybe they were on some kind of temporary assignment or were sleeping. A pang of regret passed over me. I’d give all my art supplies to see them just for a second.

  I paused again to listen for movement. Still nothing. I scaled across the building toward the living room balcony. I reached for secure hand and footholds. It wasn’t much different than climbing to Lydia’s window, except I was moving in the opposite direction. Ten reaches later, I jumped over the railing to our balcony.

  I squatted by the edge of the window and peered inside. The whole apartment was dark. Not a single item in the living room was out of place, as if no one lived there. How strange. My parents were never neat.

  I crept along the balcony to catch a glimpse down the hall toward my parents’ bedroom. The digital displays of family photos hung on the wall. Darkness loomed on glossy screens holding my family’s smiling faces.

  I couldn’t see the images from outside the window, but I knew them well. Family dinners and birthdays, Thanksgiving, and Chanukah. Snapshots of all the best traditions, things I’d never thought I’d miss. But now having lost everything, I clung to the memories.

  Everything I’d grown up with and believed in carried so much more weight. I’d lost all the best parts of myself, the happy moments, and my most favorite of all—us by the lake.

  We’d go for Tashlich to cast our sins away. Jake had never missed it until a couple of months ago, the first time he’d missed it. At the time I had assumed he went to the campus Hillel to celebrate. Now I knew the real reason why. It wasn’t the same without him secretly throwing the bread at the ducks, even though he was supposed to cast it into the water. He’d chuck it right in the middle of the ducks and laugh as they scrambled to be the first to get it. Not even Dad’s stern insistence that we take it seriously scared us.

  Jake and I would struggle to control our snickers. And even after getting a few quiet moments to reflect, Jake would side-eye me, and we’d lose it all over again. My gut twisted knowing I’d never hear his laugh again.

  I couldn’t even remember what it sounded like anymore. If it weren’t for my bum tracker, I’d pull up a vid to remind myself, but all I had was the memory. And the next time I cast off my sins, I’d have a lot more to be sorry for.

  My insides ripped apart.

  I needed to find my parents. But what then? Would I rush inside, hug them, and tell them everything, including what had happened to Jake?

  I didn’t know.

  The shadows in the hall threatened to envelop the happiness oozing out of the photos and squash it forever.

  I climbed on the opposite railing and reached for a hold on the side of the building. My fingers cramped, and I released my hold. I kneeled down and leaned against the building for support. Flexing my fingers a few times, I waited for the cramping to stop. I just needed to check my parents’ bedroom then I could head back. No one would know I’d been here.

  When the ache in my hands dulled, I grabbed the handhold again. I shoved my foot into a gap on the wall and pulled myself onto the building. My whole body shook as I slowly made my way toward the windowsill outside my parents’ room. My fingers tingled and I paused to steady myself before proceeding through the last few maneuvers.

  Balancing on the window ledge, I peered inside. Their bed was made perfectly, as if no one had ever slept in it, but there were suitcases lying open on the chairs next to the bed. Clothes and shoes spilled out of the cases and some items had fallen to the floor. Dread coursed through my veins like an IV full of acid. Why would they leave in the middle of packing?

  I rested my forehead on the cool glass. It seemed like they’d been trying to pack in a hurry, but if they weren’t here and their clothes were, where had they gone? Or maybe the better question was: Who or what had made them leave without their stuff?

  My heart pounded. The hour I’d promised Bailen was nearly up. I’d have to find those answers later. I climbed back to the living room balcony and bolted across it. I sat on the railing and reached for hand and footholds leading me back to my bedroom window. As I stepped onto my windowsill, a red light with a blinking TW chat bubble appeared in the corner of my eye.

  Twenty-One

  Goose bumps erupted on my skin. Cold, spidery fingers twisted in my gut. Why was my tracker active again? There was only one way to find out. I knew I shouldn’t, but I blinked twice to open the message.

  17:00

  I blinked twice. The message collapsed out of view. Were they nuts? More tests? That didn’t sound like them. And I was already home. Where were they? I froze, framed in my window staring at the concrete thirty-five floors down. I waited for signs of life from inside the apartment. I wanted to see them more than anything. But the voice of doubt whispered in my mind, It’s a trap.

  The familiar click of the front door sounded from the entryway. Heavy footsteps padded closer to my bedroom, accompanied by muffled voices I didn’t recognize. An icy chill swarmed my body. A voice screamed inside my head.

  Run.

  With the familiar click of my bedroom door, I snapped back to reality. I kneeled, clinging on to the edge of the window with my hands. Swinging, I dropped onto the balcony below then immediately vaulted over to the next window ledge. From there, I scaled the wall down three more stories to the fire escape.

  Chat bubbles with the initials LW flooded my vision. Lydia. I caught glimpses of OMG YOU’RE ALIVE and WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? before I minimized them from view and focused on my escape route.

  I risked one final glance at my window and locked eyes with an agent wearing a wicked expression that told me he would catch me no matter what it took. Another moment passed before he yelled something into my apartment. I jumped over the railing and landed on the floor below. I continued to catapult over railings until I reached the ground.

  Despite my cramping leg muscles, I sprinted to the dumpster and grabbed my bike. My head filled with crazy theories and possible truths while I started the engine. The tires squealed as I pushed the bike to its limit. The moment I had enough space, I engaged the flying mechanism and soared into the sky, checking to make sure the authorities weren’t tailing me as I turned toward the Hive.

  My worst nightmare was a reality. If my parents weren’t home, and they weren’t on transfer, then the authorities had them. I said a quick prayer for their safety. I’d never forgive myself if I’d gotten them killed.

  I lowered into the woods toward the barn. My body stiffened and bile ran up my throat. A wave of horror whipped through me. If the authorities were at my apartment, and they had my parents, then there was only one thing left for them to hunt.

  Me.

  The authorities were using my parents as bait. And they’d only found me because of my tracker’s mysterious reincarnation. Or maybe they had been watching my place? How could I have been so stupid?

  A second wave of horror wrapped itself around me, making each breath more difficult. If my tracker was active, I’d just lead the authorities right to the Hive.

  I wanted to vomit. The tires squealed in protest as I skidded into the barn and nearly ran over Peyton.

  “You idiot! Watch what you’re doing!”

  A group of Ghosts in dark gear with flashlights surrounded me.

  Peyton stared daggers at me
that threatened to cut me in two, then rolled her eyes at Bailen. “See, I told you she’d be fine. Kaya’s a big girl. Chill out.”

  My chest tightened. “We’ve got a problem,” I blurted out before anyone could say anything else.

  “What kind of problem?” Peyton raised her fist in my face. “If you bring harm to the Hive, I will make your life a living hell.”

  “I’d never intentionally hurt anyone.” But despite my best intentions, we were moments from being overrun by authorities. And it was all my fault.

  Bailen stepped between us. “Enough, Pey. Let her talk.”

  He spun around, grabbed my arms, and looked me square in the eyes. “What is it? Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”

  “My… My tracker… It’s back…” I shook my head, trying to clear out the haze, but it didn’t help. “I’m not sure what happened. I got a message from my parents. I think it was a trap. The authorities showed up at my place as I was leaving.”

  “You went home?” His expression twisted into a mixture of confusion and horror.

  “Yes, but I didn’t go inside.”

  “Crap! Code Nine. We gotta move.” Peyton shot me a death stare then followed the others through the trap door.

  Bailen remained behind. “What were you thinking? You knew you couldn’t go home. That’s the first place the authorities would watch for you.”

  “It was something Harlow said about my parents. That they’re gone. I didn’t feel right about it. I thought if I just got a peek inside.” My shoulders slumped like I’d just been caught sneaking out. I should have told him, let him help me. But I knew if I had, he would have tried to stop me. “Then I got this strange message. I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do or where to go.”

  His expression hardened. “Peyton’s right. We have to clear out.” Clutching my hand a little too tightly, he dragged me through the trap door.

  When we reached the computer room, people were tripping over each other. A blue light near the ceiling swirled ominously over the chaotic scene.

  Bailen led me to his desk. He pushed me into a chair and pulled a kit out from one of the desk drawers. I flinched at the sight. It resembled the kit the authorities used to jumpstart my tracker.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Masking your tracker signal. We don’t have time for TROGS. And the only version I have right now isn’t mobile.” His eyebrows furrowed. “This will hurt.”

  The needles gleamed, daring me to run, but I knew I couldn’t. I swallowed hard as he picked up a needle and filled it with an orange liquid. “Where are you putting that?”

  “Your arm.”

  “Do it.” I rolled up my sleeve and squeezed my eyes shut. After a tiny prick, it was over. The traces of the tracker windows faded to a ghostly transparency. A few moments later, they disappeared from my vision completely.

  “How long will this last?”

  “I flooded the programming in your chip. It should hold for a few hours then come back slowly. As soon as we’re moved, I’ll switch you over to TROGS. Assuming we all make it.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  He pursed his lips as if he were trying to avoid yelling at me. “It’s fine.”

  Before I could say anything further, Bailen disappeared into the chaos of people, leaving me alone in the mess I’d made.

  I searched for some way to help, but every time I bent down to grab something, someone else swooped in and took the item before I could. After a few attempts, I gave up and watched them scurry like ants coming out of an unearthed hill.

  Across the room, Jeremy carried Emily on his back. She reached out to me. “Kaya.” I shoved into the sea of people. Everyone bumped me and pushed me toward the exit. Before I knew it, I’d lost sight of them. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t find Emily. Everything was my fault.

  As the equipment disappeared, the people cleared out with it, making it easier to pick out individuals. I ran across the room to Bailen.

  “What can I do?”

  He plopped a heavy black-and-silver box in my arms then spun me around without a word.

  “Would you talk to me?” I asked.

  He grabbed another box and stormed toward the exit.

  I hurried after him. “Bailen, wait. I said I was sorry.”

  “And I said it was fine.”

  The edge in his voice struck me hard. I wished he’d yell at me and get it over with. I’d screwed up, and that guilt was more than enough. But Bailen icing me out was too much.

  When we reached the barn, he dumped the equipment into a container on the back of the bike. Outside, a giant truck hovered a foot off the ground. Peyton stood in the back, taking tools and computers that people passed her.

  “Where will we go?” I asked.

  The only response I got was the sound of the container on the back of my bike slamming shut. I grabbed Bailen’s shoulder.

  “Talk to me, please.”

  “Start the bikes. I have to grab more gear.”

  Not exactly what I’d hoped for, but it was a start. Before I could respond, Bailen had vanished again. I didn’t like the sense of loneliness that filled me every time he took off. I knew everyone had a job to do, and the authorities could show up at any second. If Bailen hadn’t flooded my tracker, I’d have been able to see how close the authorities were. But it had to be done, and here I was left in the middle of chaos, completely alone. And yet I felt suffocated by his silence and I couldn’t handle it. Bailen, on the other hand, remained focused on the task. Like some kind of warrior instinct had kicked in—a warrior who wanted nothing to do with someone who had betrayed them.

  The commotion in the barn dwindled. Fewer and fewer people remained. Bailen’s father scurried around with spools of wiring and then disappeared behind the truck.

  I climbed on my bike and secured my helmet, waiting for Bailen. A minute later, he emerged from the trapdoor with another load of gadgets. He dropped them into the storage container on his bike. He hopped on and his voice filled my helmet. “Follow me. Stay close.”

  He revved his engine, burst through the barn doors, and whipped around the truck. I tailed close enough to see steam rolling off his tires, coiling like a cobra. We wove through the trees, keeping to the shadows. Branches tore at my shirt and jeans. The cool night air burned the newly formed scrapes on my arms and legs. I wanted to inspect the wounds but didn’t dare lose sight of Bailen.

  My head throbbed. A slight buzzing rang in my ears. I gripped the handlebars tighter and continued to plow through the underbrush. The deeper into the forest we went, the more my head pounded. Then the buzz shifted to a whistle like a wind blowing through my ears.

  “Bailen, I’m getting dizzy,” I said into the helmet.

  A long silence persisted before he said, “Hang in there. We’ll be there soon.”

  If I could hold on a little longer. But I didn’t have time. The outlines of apps started to glow in my vision. No. It’s too soon! My hands and feet tingled. I squeezed my hands into fists in an attempt to regain feeling, but the tingling moved up my arm. The thudding in my head became unbearable. I couldn’t focus on anything. The rhythm of the pulsing pain flooded my mind. I had to keep going. It was just a little farther. But I wasn’t sure I could do it anymore.

  A chill ran through my body. I tried to hit the brake and pull to the side, but my body was completely rigid. I’d lost the ability to move. My bike sped on under the weight of my unmovable foot. My voice screamed inside my head as the bike narrowly missed tree after tree. I struggled to form coherent thoughts. The throbbing made it impossible. The authorities had control of my tracker.

  My muscles trembled. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I fought against my tracker for control of my body. If only I could get Bailen’s attention. But even he couldn’t stop the rollercoaster of insanity.

  The trees around me blurred. All sound morphed into a horrible buzzing in my ears. I tried to pry my hands from the handlebars to grab my h
ead, but they wouldn’t budge.

  My foot lifted off the accelerator against my will.

  The bike’s engine stalled. It ripped through the underbrush. Twigs cracked underneath it. The bike groaned. I plowed deeper into the woods, whipping through shrubs. Leaves and dirt spewed up on both sides of me like a geyser. I silently pleaded for the bike to stop.

  It kept rolling.

  Jump off!

  I mentally commanded my body to move.

  No response.

  Shit!

  My breath caught in my throat. My pores filled with sweat as the bike careened toward a giant tree. Bailen’s bike shrank into the distance.

  Time slowed to a crawl. Everything but the tree blurred into oblivion. My insides twisted. The tree loomed closer and closer. I tried to slam my eyes shut, but they were pinned open. They quickly grew dry and painful. I’m going to die and there’s nothing I can do about it. At least I’ll be with Jake soon.

  If by some chance I live through this, I won’t hold back.

  My thoughts.

  My feelings.

  No regrets.

  As my bike slammed into the trunk, pain exploded through my body like the sun incinerating me from the inside out.

  Twenty-Two

  Unknown faces leaned over me before my eyelids drooped closed again. Moments later, an awful vinegar smell assaulted my nose. I squinted under the bright lights. My body ached like I’d been used as a soccer ball. I lifted my heavy arm, but it stopped partway up with a snapping sound. A glistening chain connected a band around my wrist to the chair I was lying in.

  “Ah, she’s awake.”

  I flipped my head in the direction of the male voice, the room slowly spinning as I went. The small room had white walls devoid of any decorations. Scalpels, needles, and clamps filled the silver tray next my chair. The harsh light gleamed off the tools as if they were mocking me.

 

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