No Refuge Page 2

“In broad daylight?” Marshall asked. “With hundreds of people outside who might recognize us? The last time I checked the darknet, the reward on our heads was approaching two million dollars. And when I say ‘on our heads,’ I mean it literally, because the only reason they want us taken alive is so they can behead us on live TV.”

  Francesca shivered. Marshall had explained earlier that the darknet, or deep web, was the restricted-access portion of the internet utilized by the underworld, where drugs, arms, even children could be bought and sold anonymously without fear of tracking by the authorities. It was a panacea for criminals and terrorists around the world, and unnamed radical groups were fueling the fervor for the capture of Jake and his friends—with a growing pot of money.

  Crowdfunding at its worst.

  Lacey said, “It doesn’t matter. We’ve got to do it. I love Doc for trying to protect us, but we’ve got to get out from under the government’s thumb while we still can.”

  “What about wheels?” Marshall asked.

  “You kiddin’?” Tony said. “We’re surrounded by parked cars.” He pulled a folded wire coat hanger from under the couch. “And I’ve got a skeleton key.”

  Tony’s smile was forced. The normal twinkle in the big man’s expression was gone, and that spoke volumes to Francesca. If tough-as-nails Tony was worried, they were in big trouble. How would they survive out there on their own? A selfish part of her wished the friends who had been with them at the airport had stuck around. But once the videos appeared, the homecoming celebration had broken up quickly. Jake’s Air Force pals Cal and Kenny, who had yet to be implicated, had reluctantly returned to their duty station in San Diego, and Tony’s family had been whisked away by a couple of his cop buddies. Becker and Jonesy had wanted to leave, but they’d been front and center on the videos so Doc’s government team had insisted they remain. Becker had winked and said, “Sure, mate. No worries.” But ten minutes later the Australian Special Forces operatives had vanished into the crowd, and by now were lying low in the outback. As for Lacey’s friends Pete and Skylar, whose help had meant the difference between life and death for all of them, they’d scoffed at the notion of accepting protection from the government. Hollywood was the stunt team’s home turf, and they’d insisted they could take care of themselves.

  It’s just us, Francesca thought, searching for courage in the eyes of her friends but not finding it. Jake’s death had taken a piece of each of them. And they don’t even know the worst of it yet. She choked back a sob. They looked at her, and the deep concern that radiated from them broke her resolve. She burst into tears.

  Lacey moved to embrace her. “We’ll find a way past this.”

  Francesca shook her off. “No, we won’t. I won’t.” She dropped her face into her hands. Her voice quaked. “It’s Alex.”

  “Oh,” Marshall said with a sigh. “Of course. What he’s been through is unthinkable. It’s no wonder he hasn’t spoken a word since it happened.”

  “He’s a tough kid,” Tony said. “We’ll stand by him. He’ll snap out—”

  “No!” she cried. “He won’t snap out of anything. He’s extremely sick.”

  “Huh?” Tony said.

  “My boy,” she said between sniffles. “He’s dying.”

  “W-what?” Lacey said.

  Marshall gaped.

  Tony leaned forward and placed a hand on her knee. “No. How?”

  The words tumbled out of her. “I found out that morning. Before we were all taken. I was going to tell Jake that night, but now…” Her chest hitched.

  “Dear God,” Lacey said.

  They let her cry for a moment, not pressing her with the questions she knew were spiraling through their minds. Marshall rushed to the bathroom and returned with a box of Kleenex. She took one and dabbed her eyes and face. “The doctor said his body’s cells are aging out of control. He wanted to bring Alex in for a bunch of tests.”

  “But he seems fine,” Marshall said.

  Tony said, “It’s gotta be a mistake.”

  She shook her head. “No. Not a mistake. There were a few subtle changes over the past few months that I ignored—his hair growing faster, his voice breaking a couple times, and even when Jake commented that his physical coordination playing catch had seemingly improved overnight.” She bit her lower lip. “I discounted it all, attributing it to an early onset of puberty. Then, two weeks ago…” Her gaze lost focus as she relived the moment. “I was holding his hand when I noticed the texture of his skin had lost its softness, and when he returned my gaze, I saw something in his expression that reminded me of my grandfather. Alex has always seemed wise beyond his years, but this was something different, and the closer I looked the more I realized his eyes had actually changed. It was as if they’d lost some of their luster.” She shivered at the memory. “That’s when I took him to the specialist. He ran a full battery of tests, and I played it off to Alex as a special physical the whole family was going to have after everything we’d been through. I met with the doctor last week to go over the results. They were irrefutable. Alex’s body is aging too fast, and the doctor’s not sure why. But the tests he conducted so far indicated it’s not something that was inherent since birth, like progeria or other aging syndromes. In Alex’s case, the genetic anomaly appears to have been recently acquired from some...external source.”

  “External source?” Tony asked hesitantly.

  Lacey gasped. “Oh my God.”

  “The grid,” Marshall said. “He was connected to it.”

  “Damn,” Tony said. “How long before, uh…I mean—”

  “S-six months.”

  Chapter 3

  I SUCKED IN A BREATH and flattened myself against a wall. It felt as if a giant hand had reached inside me and squeezed the breath from my lungs. I wasn’t a crybaby, but I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling down my cheeks. Was I really going to die before Christmas? Denial rushed through my head faster than one of my brother’s rants.

  I examined my palms, rubbed them together. Mom said they used to be softer, but to me they seemed the same as always. I clenched my fists, and they seemed stronger than ever. I felt fine. Well, except for my dad dying, and the guilt I’d felt over killing those soldiers, and the worry I had about the mess we were in. But other than that, my body didn’t seem to be aging too fast. My shoes still fit. I didn’t have aches and pains like older people, or memory issues, or wrinkled skin, or silver hair, or even that funny odor—

  I stopped myself. I knew better. I’d been connected to an alien force that had invaded me from head to toe. It would have killed me then and there if my dad hadn’t joined the link and helped me control the terabytes of data that had flowed into my head. With his help, I’d been able to stuff it all away deep in my mind, and ever since then I’d done everything I could to keep it buried. But a part of me always knew the truth: It must have changed me. I just hadn’t known how. Until now.

  I forced myself to move closer to the crack in the door.

  ***

  Francesca stiffened when she noticed Doc pocket his phone and walk toward them. She wiped her eyes, using the motion to disguise a head shake to the others. Doc didn’t need to know about Alex’s condition. They took the hint. Tony turned around and said, “What’s the news, Doc?”

  Doc’s clothes were wrinkled, and the usual twinkle beneath his frameless spectacles had vanished. He sighed. “They know we’re here.”

  Tony stood, his fists clenched. “Who knows?”

  “My bosses in Washington.”

  “Crap,” Marshall said.

  “There’s more,” Doc said. “Homeland is seriously worried about Passcode. The realization that the software used in the Spider headsets had allowed Jiaolong’s team to subliminally acquire personal information and passwords from so many top-level cyber gatekeepers has got CSC and USCYBERCOM at their highest threat levels. All because of a video game.” He was referring to the Office of Cyber Security and Communication and the US Cyber Command.


  Francesca tensed at the mention of Jiaolong. The megalomaniac game creator who’d orchestrated the kidnapping of her family and friends had been responsible for the uploaded video files that had placed them on the world’s Most Wanted list. It was because of him that Jake was dead.

  Marshall nodded at Doc. “I’m not surprised. The Homeland agents freaked out during my debrief when I gave them the list of beta testers from the game’s leader board. I know most of them by reputation. They represent a cross section of some of the top cybersecurity specialists in the country. It was a piece of cake to lure them into the beta test program, because like me and everyone else in our industry, they love video games. Between them, they have top secret access to some of the most secure government, military, utility and financial networks in the country, and anyone with combined access to all their networks could change the shape of the world.”

  “But they’ve all changed their passwords since then, right?” Tony asked.

  “Sure, but that doesn’t mean someone didn’t gain access beforehand and drop in a back door.”

  Doc said, “And that’s why they’ve sequestered every one of them to work together to figure it out, drilling into their networks for signs of any intrusions. It’s a massive undertaking.”

  “To say the least,” Marshall added. “Trillions of lines of code. Forget about finding a needle in a haystack. It’s more like trying to find a particular needle in an Olympic-sized pool full of needles.”

  “But I don’t understand,” Lacey said. “How does this affect us?”

  Francesca gasped as she realized the truth.

  Doc’s expression tightened. “They’ve learned that Alex may be the key to unlocking the mess. They’re coming for him. Worse yet, with so many people involved, we have to assume that word of his involvement has leaked beyond government channels. And that means others will come looking as well. It places all of you at even greater risk than before.”

  ***

  My stomach dropped. Half the world already wanted my mom and friends to pay for terrorist acts they didn’t commit, and now they were at greater risk than that? Because of me? It felt like all the air had left the room. I couldn’t catch my breath. My mind swirled, and for the first time I knew how my dad must have felt. He’d blamed himself for endangering all of us, and in the end he’d sacrificed his life because of it. I glanced over my shoulder. My brother and sister were still on the couch, my sister lost in her music and Ahmed watching TV. As I looked at them, my mind superimposed glowing red targets on the backs of their heads.

  This time it was my fault.

  The room closed in around me and blood pounded in my ears. With fists clenched, I squeezed my eyes closed, trying desperately to push away the realization of what I had to do. Was it possible? Could I even do it? I’m only eight.

  I wanted to cry but refused to let it happen. Instead, I thought of my dad, of the love he’d had for all of us, of his determination to do whatever was necessary to protect us.

  Of his courage.

  I clamped my jaws shut to steady myself, and narrowed my gaze on the hallway leading to the bedroom where I’d left my backpack.

  ***

  Francesca moved toward the door to the adjoining room. She was reaching for the handle when Tony intercepted her.

  “Hold on,” he said, taking her arm.

  Her skin flushed as she turned to face him. She was going to get her son and nobody was going to stop her. She was about to yank her arm free when something in Tony’s expression gave her pause. He made a subtle nod toward Marshall, Lacey and Doc, who were behind him and staring at them.

  Tony squeezed her arm gently and whispered, “We need to implement our plan right now.” His grip on her arm loosened, and his voice returned to normal. “Maybe it’s best if we don’t alarm Alex. Let’s think this through…together.”

  Her mind raced. She wanted to hold her son but Tony was right. Alex wouldn’t be safe until they escaped their protection detail. Doc was well intended but the government pulled his strings. They needed to get him to leave the room. She exchanged a look with Tony that told him she understood. Then she took a deep breath, and fainted.

  ***

  I pulled my baseball cap low and slipped out the rear exit of our room. In the courtyard below, a group of kids giggled and splashed in the shallow end of the rectangular pool, edging away from a boy with his eyes closed yelling, “Marco!” The surrounding players shouted, “Polo!” as they vaulted away from the boy’s efforts to tag them. It was the kind of fun I’d never have again.

  None of them paid any attention to me as I made my way to the staircase and down to the ground floor.

  My family loved me unconditionally and I loved them just as much—the same way my dad had loved us all. It was that very same love that had instilled in him the desire, the need, to protect us at all costs, a caring so deep he’d not given a second thought to sacrificing his life on our behalf. He’d dived an airplane into a helicopter to stop a madman and his evil granddaughter from escaping with a weapon that would’ve doomed the world to global panic.

  A part of me suspected he could have found a different way—if he’d wanted to. But I’d seen the resolve in his eyes when he said good-bye. He hadn’t planned on living through it. He’d wanted to once and for all remove himself from our lives, as a man constantly surrounded by danger, pursued by the terror that had infected the world, someone whose very existence had placed us in harm’s way time and time again.

  But it hadn’t worked, had it? My dad’s visage lived on in the doctored video, and the identities of my mom and his friends had been leaked. The threat against us had increased one hundredfold. The world had found its villain, the man—and his associates—on whom they could place the blame for the hardships of their lives, clinging to their anger with a death grip. It would take a miracle to sway them from their belief.

  And now, in the last few minutes, not only had I learned my life would be cut short by some alien infection, but that I was also standing squarely in my father’s footsteps with a target on my back, one that would bring pain, or worse, to my family and friends.

  I couldn’t allow that.

  Like father, like son.

  ***

  Francesca hated seeing Doc’s genteel nature right then. Her fake faint had only served to elevate his concern for her. Tony had caught her and laid her on the couch. But when she’d fluttered her eyes open and asked Doc to run down to the gift shop to get her some aspirin, he’d asked one of the guards to do it. That had been ten minutes ago.

  Ten precious minutes.

  Now Doc hovered over her, dabbing a damp washcloth on her forehead. She forced a smile while her mind raced for a solution. Before leaving, the guard had reported the forest fire had been brought under control and the roads had reopened. There’d been a clamor of cheers outside. Car engines started and horns honked as traffic began to move. The noise was soon drowned out, however, by what sounded like a dozen motorcycles approaching the motel. The motors revved and throbbed, and it seemed the bikes were lining the parking area around the coffee shop. One by one the engines switched off.

  Tony fidgeted near the couch. Marshall subtly stowed his laptop into his backpack and zipped it closed. Lacey had disappeared toward the bedrooms to gather the other packs. They were ready to go. They simply had to get rid of Doc.

  Three short knocks on the front door signaled the return of the guard with the aspirin. Tony moved to open it.

  “I’ll get it,” Doc said, standing up. “Or have you forgotten it’s not safe for you to show your face out there?”

  Tony hesitated. “You’re right. Thanks.”

  “Doc, wait,” Francesca said. She motioned him close.

  “What is it, dear?”

  She lowered her voice. “Uh, I hate to ask, but as it turns out I think what I need is Midol, not aspirin.”

  His eyes widened a fraction in understanding. He cleared his throat. “I’ll have my man—�
�

  “Oh, God, no!” she gasped, playing up her embarrassment, hoping to appeal to the older man’s sense of chivalry. “You can’t tell him.”

  “Oh, of course. I’ll take care of it personally.”

  She smiled, this time for real. “Thank you, Doc.”

  Chapter 4

  I HESITATED WHEN I reached the ground floor.

  The motel’s parking lot was a beehive of activity. Highway traffic was flowing again and guests were anxious to get back on the road. Trunks slammed shut, motors turned over, and cars nosed into the slow-moving line of vehicles.

  My mind catalogued the scene, zeroing in on the two tour buses I’d noticed earlier. The silver buses were adorned with purple racing stripes that swept along the sides and up around the backs, inset with a Headway Tours logo. They were still empty, but there was a group of kids mingling near the front door of one. It swung open and a heavyset woman with a blond bun and rosy cheeks stepped out.

  She said something to the group, tapping her watch and motioning toward the coffee and gift shop. She pointed to the tallest of the boys, an African-American kid wearing a black Oakland Raiders T-shirt. He was the only one wearing jeans instead of shorts. He shook his head and waved at the other kids as if to suggest one of them should handle whatever she’d asked him to do. He began to turn his back on the woman, but she grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. She leaned in and said something that made the boy’s eyes go angry. They stared at each other and the moment stretched. The other kids inched backward. Finally, the tall boy shook his shoulder free and tromped toward the door leading to the gift shop, his fists balled.

  It was imagining what my father would do in this circumstance that propelled me toward the shop—and the kids inside that, like me, weren’t long for this world. I made it to the entrance the same time as the tall boy. He looked twelve or thirteen, with a strong face and lanky build. I smiled and opened the door. He frowned and pushed past me. I followed him in.

  As soon as we stepped inside, he shouted louder than an angry football coach, “It’s time to go!” Between the gift shop and the adjoining restaurant, there had to have been at least forty kids inside, not to mention a dozen or more adults. Every one of them turned his way.