Deadman's Switch & Sunder the Hollow Ones (9 page)

The walls of the container are covered an inch thick in slimy green algae and the surface is carpeted with mosquito larvae and a grayish-green sludge. Kelly skims it off as best he can before dumping in a couple gallons of bleach we tote down with us from the storage closet. Then I climb in to wash the gore off. But neither the smell nor the slime nor the mosquitoes bother me. I scrub until my skin is raw and even the dirt under my nails disappears.

After everyone is cleaned off, Kelly and Jake go back downstairs to watch the tram entrance. They're an odd team, particularly because of the friction between them over me, but also because of the way Jake has been acting in general. He's unpredictable. Kelly is logical and consistent. And secretive. I'm not sure I can trust either of them.

I go back and sit with Micah. He finally regains consciousness a couple hours later.

“What time is it?” he asks, bleary eyed. He's obviously still out of it, though, since he thinks he's late for school.

“Classes don't start for another week and a half,” I tell him. But this only makes him more agitated.

Last week, we'd all sat around dreading the inevitable horror of the first day of our last year of high school. Now there's nothing I'd be more happy to do than to sit in a boring, overheated, overcrowded classroom.

“Where are we?”

I limit the information I give him. How do you tell someone in such a delicate mental state that he's stuck on an island full of zombies, not to mention people intent on adding us to their Undead rosters? How do you explain you've just dumped an IU with a gaping hole in her chest and a bunch of body parts with human teeth marks on them into the room right next door? How do you explain that we've been kidnapped by a company that makes—of all things—video games?

“You're in the hospital.”

It'll suffice for now. Maybe later, when he's stronger, I'll tell him some more.

Ash, Reggie and I take turns making sure he stays in bed. He protests, but he's weak and doesn't put up much of a fight. Kelly returns a couple hours later. He holds up a bottle of antibiotics he retrieved from the medical cart on the abandoned tram. After chastising him for not telling us what he was doing, I inform him that the pills won't help if it's a virus.

“They won't hurt, either.” Later, when he divvies them up between us, I watch as Reggie and Ash pocket theirs. I do the same. Jake swallows his.

Kelly settles into a chair next to the door of Micah's room. “I figured out what was wrong with the tram. The emergency brake needed to be manually disengaged. Wish we'd known about it before.” He reaches into a pocket. “Pulled the fuse from the control panel after I brought it back. Same with the rest of the trams. Hid the rest down there where we can get to them when we need to. Now no one else can use any of the trams, only us.”

Fuses are old tech, just like my brother's jeep and Micah's car, so a bit mysterious to me. It continues to surprise me that Kelly knows so much more about such things. More than I ever knew he did, anyway.

“One of us should go back to the mainland,” I say. “We could get help.”

“From who? The police? Arc owns them.”

“My brother. Grandpa.”

The way Kelly's face hardens tells me he doesn't trust either of them. Eric works for Necrotic Crimes Division, and Grandpa… Well, the Undead are his children, so to speak.

But I know Kelly's wrong.

“I think we're on our own here,” he says.

He stands up and says he's going to go relieve Jake. “You should get some rest, too.”

“We need to come up with a plan.”

“Rest first,” he urges. “You need rest.”

What I need to do is get us all off the island. But I nod and watch him leave without arguing. I stay in Micah's room for a little while longer, watching, praying for his recovery.

It alarms me, how much weight he's lost. I realize with a sudden jolt how frail he looks, lying there, his skin sallow, the rings under his eyes.

He's been a close member of our group since he moved here just over a year ago, and yet he's never really been a part
of
us, instead always somehow…above us. He slipped right into the leadership role that none of us wanted to fill. We willingly followed.

There was never any jealousy among us, neither because of this, nor for his attentions. We all idolized him. Just being in his company was enough. He helped us achieve more than we ever could have without him. Always so passionate and willing to experiment, to take risks. More intelligent. More capable. More…

Well, he was just more.

But now that's all changed. The only way I can explain it is like when you look at a beautiful scene and realize that what you're viewing is about as close to perfection as you'll ever get to experience. And then to suddenly see it marred.

I can't help but feel a little disappointed.

I get up stiffly and remove the IV needle from his arm and throw the setup away. The bag is empty anyway and there isn't another to replace it. He doesn't even wake. As for the urinary catheter, I leave it in for now.

I silently pray that his body heals soon, at least enough to take the strain of moving him.

Even more than that, I worry about his mind. I fear the reality of our situation might just break him, possibly irreparably.

I fear it might be too late. He might already be broken. Just like the rest of us seem to be.

 

 

“I know you're out there, Kelly,”
I say. It's the next morning, shortly before ten. After a long, restless night, I'd finally managed to sleep. I've been up now for less than an hour after crashing hard for almost six following my midnight-to-three watch. “Come on in.”

He sticks his head tentatively around the doorway. “How'd you know it was me?”

“Been tracking you.”

He comes in and flops down next to me, bouncing the thin mattress where I'd spent the night, and glances over at Micah's old computer tablet in my hands. “Keeping tabs on me, eh?” he says, trying for lightness but not quite managing. There are circles under his eyes, and his unshaved face is stubbly with whiskers. “Not even married yet and you've already got me on a short leash.”

I frown, but don't bite at the all-too-obvious bait.

A week ago, in sort of a round-about way, he'd asked me to marry him. He'd sent me a picture, a giant marriage proposal spray-painted onto the side of a building in downtown Long Island City. But I couldn't answer him then. Even before I realized we were being attacked by IUs, I'd already been paralyzed with fear.

A month ago, there wouldn't have been any waffling. It would've been an unequivocal no. There were a million reasons not to get married, the very least of which was our ages. Yes, people get married sooner now than their parents did, partially because of the shorter life expectancies, but seventeen is still too young.

Besides, he was supposed to go to college in a year. I would've just dragged him down.

Then came the post on his Link from Arc and his strange reaction to me asking about it. Suddenly it seemed like I might be losing him, and not to some out-of-state school, but to something far more sinister and irrevocable.

But now…

Now, marriage seems like the least important thing in the world, a non-issue, a fantasy that happens to other people.

So why am I so afraid of facing it?

And why do I want it so badly that I can almost taste it?

“I just checked on Micah,” he says, shifting the subject when it becomes clear I won't talk about his proposal. “He's asleep. What are you doing?”

I'd been scouring the tablet, hoping to find something—anything—that might help us figure how to break the failsafe. I'd stumbled across the tracking app Micah created before we came to LI the first time. It was buried deep inside what can be described as some kind of incomprehensible organizational system of files and programs, either completely insane, or arcane, or absolutely brilliant. How he finds anything on this thing—or his Link, for that matter, since it's the same way—is beyond my puny powers to comprehend.

Not that the tracker app is of much use to me. Now that all of our old L.I.N.C. implants have been replaced, it can't see any of the rest of us other than Kelly, who still has his original. Now, without the new identity codes, we're as invisible to the tracker as the island's thousands of un-implanted Infected Undead.

“Looking for the hack of the ArcWare codex that Micah came up with,” I answer, and then, realizing nobody ever told Kelly about it, I explain: “After you took off alone to save Jake, he finished it using Ashley's self-learning algorithm. But you would've known that if you weren't off gallivanting around here with Jake.”

“You're not going to let me off the hook for that, are you?”

“Nope.”

“Well, as I recall, I wasn't gallivanting. I was rescuing.”

“And I was worried sick.”

He sighs. “What do you need the hack for?”

“I figure if Arc developed a failsafe, then it's got to have a code, right?” He nods and waits for me to go on. “And code can be hacked, which means we might be able to block the failsafe using software.”

“How do we get the hack into the implants?”

I shrug. “I doesn't matter. I can't find a damn thing on here anyway.”

“Reg and Ash are working on the servers. Maybe they'll come up with something.”

He stands up, offering his hand. I take it and let him pull me up. But instead of leaving, he wraps me up in his arms. I can feel the tension inside his body, like it's a herculean effort to touch me. He still doesn't know if I'm sick or not. I feel fine, but who knows how long it might take for me to start showing symptoms.

I yield to his touch, suddenly realizing how much I've missed it. I lean into him and close my eyes and pretend we're not here in this hellhole, that we're somewhere else, anywhere, home, school.

After a few moments, I lift my face. There's only a couple inches difference between our heights. He leans down and our noses nearly touch. His eyes flick between mine. Then he surprises me with a quick, dry peck to the forehead before releasing me. “I'm going to check on Jake.”

I'm still standing there, hurt and stunned, when Reggie finds me. “There you are. Come with me.”

“Where?”

“Server room. Looks like we finally caught a break.”

 

 

I follow Reggie down the hall
and through the smashed doorway and find Ashley sitting on the floor, her legs crossed beneath her. She's huddled over her Link. When she looks up, her face brightens. “You've got it!” She gestures for the tablet. “Gimme! I've been looking for that. I was afraid we'd lost it.”

“What's going on?”

She hurriedly connects some wires to the tablet and scrolls through a bunch of screens, cursing under her breath about how she can never find anything on it.

Finally she holds it up and shows us streaming code.

“They're Arc's machines, all right, just as you suspected. I recognize some of the code from when we hacked into
The Game
. It's not the only thing coming through here, though. There are several thousand individual streams passing through these machines, maybe forty or fifty thousand at any given time.”

I lean over and shrug as I watch the code flash by. “Data streams. So what?” How Ash could possibly see distinct patterns in it is beyond me.

“So, what we're looking at is
The Game
.”

“Raw code?” I say. “We already have a hack for it.”

She shakes her head. “Not the base program. Still haven't located the root files yet. It might be that these servers just annotate the raw data coming in and deliver it to Arc Entertainment for editing. Looks like everything coming out of Gameland, though. But that's not what I wanted to show you. Look here.”

She swipes the screen and it clears. Then she taps it a few times and a schematic pops up with several red dots.

“Micah's tracker? I was just looking at it. But what are all those dots?”

“It's actually not his tracker, though it's very similar.” She points. “These dots are us, our new implants. Well, most of us, anyway. Kelly's not here, obviously, because he didn't get one.” She expands a section of the schematic and the dots separate and gain alphanumeric labels. “This cluster here is the three of us. And…this one over here is Tanya. Jake's way over here, down near the baggage claim.”

“Well, at least we know he's doing his job,” I murmur. Of course, it doesn't tell us if he's awake or not. “What's that one?”

“That's Stephen.”

“They're tracking him, too, then.”

“Looks like it. But that's what I wanted to show you. See, there's no one else in the entire airport.”

“Our mystery missing person is really missing,” I say.

Ash nods and taps the screen again with a flourish. “That was me sending our new identifier codes to our Links so Micah's tracker app on them can be updated.”

I stare at the six dots on the tablet screen. There should be seven. “Where's Micah? He should be there, too.”

Ash shakes her head. “We looked. He's not in the system.”

“I'm not understanding.”

Reggie holds up Micah's Link. “We can still see him on the app on his Link, so we know his implant is functional. It looks like he never got the new implant.”

“Maybe because he was so badly hurt?” I suggest.

“Maybe.”

“So, you're telling me the failsafe shouldn't affect him then, either?”

They both nod. “You just didn't know because he was passed out on the tram from all the drugs you gave him.”