6 Digit Passcode (5 page)

Fray nods like he understands, but I know he doesn’t. He’s too young. Or at least, I hope he is.

“Do you feel better now?” he asks me.

“No.” I step back out of the room, my body still turned towards my mother’s, but my eyes firmly focused on anything but. “No, I don’t.”

I feel a hand groping at the sleeve of my jacket, searching until it finds my own and squeezes on it gently. I take his hand in mine, and I don’t know which one of ours is shaking.

I should move. I should close the door. I should walk out of this house and never come back. But I can’t.

After a moment of silence, Fray says, “Papa isn’t downstairs. But Mommy is still here.”

This surprises me. Sometimes I forget how smart he is. He’s six years old; he shouldn’t be thinking about things like that.

Before I can think of a response, he continues.

“Where did they take Papa?” he asks. I look down; there is a stain of blood on my left shoe that I can’t get off no matter how hard I scrub.

“I don’t know,” I tell him. I feel like I owe him my honesty. “Maybe they didn’t come here for Mommy. Or maybe somebody took him away to bury him and didn’t know that Mommy was upstairs.”

Fray inclines his head. “Or maybe Papa’s still alive,” he says with his chin pressed into the neck of his coat.

“Maybe.”

Another lie. I am getting very good at lying. But if it protects Fray’s innocence, I am willing to do anything. He’s too young for this – for any of it.

“We should go,” I say. “Crissy and her parents are probably worried about us. And it’s my turn to help with dinner, so we can’t be late.”

I hesitate, then pull the door to my parents’ bedroom closed behind me. There is blood on the doorframe that I can see even after it’s shut.

I should bury my mother. I should clean the filth off of the floors and the walls so that it looks like the Digits never came here. But I don’t think I could open that door again, even if I wanted to.

I shake my head. “Come on, Fray. If there’s anything you forgot to grab last time, you should get it now. We’re not coming back again. That’s a promise.”

“No. I don’t want anything. I want to leave everything here.”

I wonder what he means by that. I feel exactly the same way, but probably for a different reason.

“Me too.”

Fray walks ahead of me, pulling me along by my hand. He moves so quickly that I almost trip down the stairs, and he doesn’t look back at me even once.

As soon as we’re out the door, I tug my scarf off and take in a deep, shuddering breath of cold air. I feel jittery, like all of my senses are on high-alert.

I feel guilty just leaving my mother’s body like that. Some part of me actually hopes that the Digits come back and take her, too. Or maybe one of our neighbors will come looking for her, realize she’s dead, and give her a proper burial. I wish I was brave enough to do it, but I’m not.

This past week has shown me how cowardly I truly am, and how strong Fray is in comparison. Or perhaps he’s just better at keeping his feelings inside.

I’m scared and I’m sad and I’m lonely.

By the time we return to Crissy’s house, I’m crying again, but I don’t even notice until she points it out to me.

***

The next morning, I am getting ready for school when I hear a knock at the front door. I pause with a brush halfway through my hair and listen.

Roma answers the door, and her subsequent gasp resonates down the hallway and into the bathroom. I set down my hairbrush and creep into the doorway, pressing my ear against its frame.

“I – we weren’t expecting you.” Roma’s voice is wavering more than I’ve ever heard it do. I peer around the corner, and immediately understand why.

There is a young man standing opposite her. He’s slim, with hair so blond it’s nearly white, and skin that looks smooth and stiff like porcelain. But it is the red chip glowing in the middle of his forehead that gives him away.

What’s a Digit doing
here
, of all places?

I don’t hear what he says in response, but whatever it is, it seems to upset Roma. She wrings her hands together and shifts her weight from one foot to the other like’s she’s anxious.

The next thing I know, she’s turned around and is beckoning me towards her. I freeze. How long has she known I’ve been listening?

Slowly, I pull myself out of the bathroom and shuffle down the hall. I can hear Fray getting dressed in our room, pulling out drawers and riffling through his meager supply of clothing, and I am envious. All I want is to run into the room with him and lock the door behind me. I wish I had stayed in the bathroom. Would it have made a difference if I had?

The Digit jerks his lips in a crooked smile as I approach. I’ve always found that expression creepy on their faces. There’s something unnatural about those…
things
smiling that unsettles me.

“What’s going on?” I ask Roma, standing awkwardly at her side and doing my best to avoid looking at the man in the doorway.

Roma doesn’t answer, instead shooting me a look that is full of both pity and caution.

“Are you Everly Garrow?” the Digit asks me. His voice sounds so… human.

I nod, chancing a glance at him. He looks me up and down like he’s analyzing me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had a scanner in his brain or something. If he even has a brain, that is. Maybe that’s what his microchip is for.

“I need you to come with me,” the man continues. “There is something I need to discuss with you.”

Roma leans towards me and bumps her arm against my shoulder. She’s not looking at me anymore. What’s going on?

I choose my words carefully; I don’t know what my mother said to the Digits that got her killed, but I can’t afford to make the same mistake. “If this is about work,” I begin, “then it’ll have to wait. I’ve got school today. I don’t work again until Friday.”

“It needs to be discussed now,” the Digit repeats. “I have already informed your teachers of your absence. This won’t take long.”

I’m starting to get kind of annoyed. What right does he have, coming into my home –
place of residence
– and telling me what to do? I understand that the Digits are in charge, and I’ve never questioned that fact before. But my parents were just murdered by their people. What more are they going to do to mess up my life?

Apparently, this. No school – which, to be honest, I won’t miss very much – and a forced interrogation. Great.

“So, what is it? I don’t really have much to offer, just so you know. My grades aren’t even very good. I’m sure there are loads of more qualified people you can talk to about – whatever it is you want to talk about.”

I’m feeling a little nervous now, though I would never admit that to anyone. I have the uncomfortable sense that this has something to do with my parents, but I’m really hoping I’m wrong. I don’t want to talk about them, especially not to the people responsible – even if inadvertently – for their murders.

“Come with me,” the Digit says, ignoring my comments completely. He gestures outside and holds the door open for me with one hand.

“Wait, right now? I’m not even ready. I still have to brush my teeth, and Fray will probably need help tying his shoes. And I’ve got to walk him to school, since Crissy’s working today. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

I realize I’m rambling only after it’s too late to stop. When I’m uncomfortable, I talk a lot more than I should. The silence bothers me. It makes me think too much.

“No,” the man says, with a bit more authority than before. “Now.”

I can’t tell if it’s because I’m angry or frightened, but my stomach is churning and I feel like I’m going to throw up. I hate this power that the Digits have over us all. I should be able to say ‘no’ to something I don’t want to do, but I can’t.

That’s what my mother tried to do, and I don’t want to end up like her.

“Go, dear.” Roma finally looks at me, and her expression is still unreadable. “I’ll take care of your brother. Be back by dinner, though. It’s meatloaf; your favorite.”

She’s trying to cheer me up, and in some ways, she’s actually succeeding. Whatever I’m going to be doing, I’ll be done before dinner and I’ll get to come back home afterwards. So it really is just a few questions.

“
Fine
,” I spit out, directing more malice at the man than I probably should. He doesn’t say anything, just pushes the door open wider and waits for me to walk past it.

I do. There’s a lump in my throat that I can’t swallow down. I keep thinking about my parents. Last time they were alone with these
creatures
they died. And I get the feeling that my brother and I were supposed to die with them.

I have to be careful.

Chapter five

“You don’t need to be so tense,” he says, though his voice suggests exactly the opposite. “I’m not going to hurt you. I know who you are – we all do.”

He pauses, and I almost say something, but I manage to hold myself back. We’re walking side-by-side, but somehow, my strides are longer than his and I have to actually slow myself down to match his pace. If I look closely enough, I can see a slight limp in his left leg as he walks.

Huh. Either he’s purposely walking crookedly, or not all Digits are as perfect as they appear to be.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” My pulse starts racing and my head jerks back before I’ve even properly registered what he’s saying. “I assure you that I had nothing to do with it. And the punishment will be grievous for those responsible when they are caught.”

My head is pounding, and my legs begin shaking so badly that I have trouble keeping up with his slackened pace. He waits for me, and his kindness surprises me. Is he trying to be nice to me just because he has a job for me to do? Because he’s trying to manipulate me into forgetting that it was
his
race that murdered my parents?

Or is it possible that the Digits have some semblance of emotion, some human aspect to them after all?

I’m not sure I want to know the answer. I would rather just go on hating the whole lot of them than have to pick and choose which ones I trust and which ones could be out to kill me.

“Thank you,” I say, forcing the words out. “Do you… have any idea
why
they…?”

Immediately after the words leave my mouth I regret them. Curiosity is a dangerous thing, especially now that I am walking beside a man who could destroy me in any manner of ways if I so much as put one finger where I shouldn’t.

But he doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he seems amused.

“Why your parents had to die?”

My stomach clenches at his use of the words ‘had to’; that makes it seem like my parents did something to
deserve
being murdered. But I ignore the thought and nod instead.

“That is an excellent question. You shouldn’t be afraid to ask the things you seek answers to. As I told you before, I do not intend to harm you.” I don’t believe him, but I don’t tell him so. Contrary to what he says, I know better than to think that I can truly speak my mind around him. “But I’m afraid that I don’t have an answer for you. I didn’t cause your parents’ deaths. Only the person who did can tell you their reason for doing so.”

Maybe they didn’t have a reason
, I think. Maybe my parents were innocent. They did nothing to deserve what happened to them. Of all the things I do not know, that’s the one thing I am certain of.

We walk halfway across the town before we arrive at what appears to be our destination. People on the streets don’t look twice at us, and I understand why – from a distance, Digits look exactly like humans. It’s only when you get close to one that you realize what you’re facing, and by then it’s too late.

The building my escort leads me to is large and unassuming, made of dark brown bricks that are worn and cracked like they’ve been around for years without having ever been repaired. He opens the door for me, and I hesitantly step inside. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t even know what I’m here for. Is it a factory? Or maybe an office?

But it’s not anything that I would have guessed. It’s a laboratory; or at least, a scaled-down version of one. There are several chairs positioned behind desks that form a circle around the center of the room. On each table is an electronic device that I do not recognize. There are a couple of computers, but they’re far more advanced than the ones I’ve used in school. And in the very center of the room is a circle painted on the floor, with wires and metal instruments attached to the ceiling above it and television monitors on each side.

What am I doing here?

“Don’t worry,” the Digit who brought me here tells me, resting one hand on my shoulder; it’s surprisingly light. “It’s just a few questions; think of it as a sort of test – like the ones you take in school. After you’ve finished, you can return to your life as normal.” He removes his hand and holds it out to me, stepping back and watching me until I take it. “We’re not all as bad as you might think. My name is Cyrus. It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Everly.”