Authority, page 16
part #2 of The Tracker Sequence Series
While I expected some sort of trap, I’d misjudged whoever this was, completely underestimated them. They were downright vengeful.
I inched around the room a couple more times as I searched for something I might have missed in the first pass, but there were only mud walls and the light beating down from overhead. Checking the door once more for good measure, I resigned myself to the fact that I was here for the foreseeable future. At least until someone decided I needed food or water, or they wanted to elevate this game to the next level. In the meantime, S.I.R.E. was enjoying the show.
I leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, propping my back up. I stared at the camera, daring whoever this was to make a move. When I got bored, I examined my black utility boots and tried to piece together everything that had happened to figure out where I went from here.
Why this room? Why this place? None of this made any sense. I blinked to open a chat bubble to S.I.R.E., then paused. Maybe this was exactly the point. A distraction so I wouldn’t keep chasing S.I.R.E. Or better yet, maybe the room was designed for me and me alone. I had to think like S.I.R.E. Bailen did this often when he was trying to get in the head of the competition. Think like the enemy, he’d always say.
Bailen… Maybe there was a chance of him finding me, assuming he wasn’t so mad he didn’t care where I’d disappeared to. Surely the others would. They’d miss me, as would Mom and Emily. As I retraced my steps, I realized S.I.R.E. had planned around that as well. Someone would probably find the bike, and maybe the flashlight. But with the cameras, S.I.R.E. would find a way to distract and drive them away on another wild chase, hurting someone I cared about in the process.
I rose from the floor and circled underneath the light, inspecting it and the camera slowly as I went. Maybe I could knock out the camera without damaging the light. I slipped off my boot and threw it at the light fixture, not so hard to shatter the bulbs or knock it from the ceiling but strong enough to hit the camera.
My aim was off. The light clanged and swayed a bit, but the camera stayed put. Afraid to miss again, I circled back to the door and examined the creases. It was a solid piece of metal, the wiring to the locking mechanism hidden somewhere inside the walls.
I dug my fingernails into the dirt. A little embedded itself under my nails, but there was no visible dent or crack in the mud wall. Using my nails would take too long to get to the wiring. I was out of viable options.
I slid back to the floor and lay on the ground, staring up at the light, hoping for a new perspective. I positioned my cheek on the cold, hard floor and blinked, waiting for inspiration, but nothing came. My body sagged in defeat; my muscles twitched from exhaustion. I hadn’t slept much in the last few days, and now it was catching up to me. If S.I.R.E. had stopped playing the game, then I was done, too.
The light above flickered—or maybe in my tired state, I was seeing things that weren’t there. But then a loud sizzle and a crack erupted. The bulbs in the fixture shattered, taking the light with it. I covered my face as tiny shards of glass rained down around me. I shook off my clothes and sat upright, feeling for the wall and the door. It was still closed, so I leaned against it. Now what?
A chat bubble with J.W. appeared in the corner of my blackened vision. J.W.? I only knew one J.W. and he was dead. I opened the profile and inspected it. Now S.I.R.E. had taken this too far. Impersonating Jake? This was no longer a game. It was beyond personal. I briefly thought about ignoring the message, but my curiosity got the better of me. I let the thought of the chat bubble fill my mind and blinked twice in quick succession.
A low breath escaped my lips as I began to read.
J.W.: We don’t have much time.
I froze in place, afraid to spook the imaginary spirit in the room. This was not what I’d expected. Very different from S.I.R.E.’s tone and actually very Jake-like, which I knew was impossible. A million thoughts whirled through my head. I tried to pick through them and decide how to respond. I let the words fill my mind and blinked to send them.
K.W.: I’ve apparently got all the time in the world.
A subtle nod to my precarious situation, but the usual kind of humor I used with Jake. If this was tied to Jake somehow, they’d pick up on the tone.
But I shook my head and cursed myself for getting my own hopes up. I was there when he’d died. And while the Ghosts knew about his death, we hadn’t told many other people, even after I’d reconnected with Mom and Dad. It didn’t make sense.
Maybe someone had hacked his tracker. Or cloned his alias. The thought sent a jolt of anger through me. How could someone do such a thing? Maybe this was another elaborate trick. I dug deeper into the profile, opening different descriptions, favorite music, favorite book, his bio, reading each component line by line. It appeared identical to how I remembered it, right down to the jokes and puns in every section. This was either him or an incredibly accurate duplicate copy of his profile.
J.W.: Time is all relative to the individual.
J.W.: A long nap for you, an infinitesimal series of calculations for me.
What an odd thing to say. While the light teasing felt like a remnant of Jake, the words didn’t align. They also weren’t as condescending or cryptic as S.I.R.E. either. Maybe this was a third party.
K.W.: No time for naps. I need an escape plan.
K.W.: Can you help me?
I silently added, whoever you are. While I wasn’t sure I could trust J.W., anything was better than waiting for S.I.R.E. to make their next move.
J.W.: By my calculations, there are two exits to the room.
I started to ask how they knew that, but my tracker must have been traceable. While Jake knew things about tracking chips from his time with the Ghosts, he was never a coder. He had other skills that must have been useful to them.
That thought hit me like a ton of paint cans. I’d never really known what he did for the Ghosts. There was never time to ask. I’d had one conversation where I reconnected with him, when he explained why I should join the Ghosts. I should have asked him then, but I didn’t. Instead, I wasted the time I’d had, and I cursed what was stolen from me. All things considered, whoever was on the other end of J.W. knew enough to hack a dead tracker, meaning they probably weren’t Jake. But maybe they could still help me—if I could even trust a person impersonating my brother.
I refocused on J.W.’s reply. Two exits. If there really were two, where was the second one? I’d searched the room pretty thoroughly. What had I missed? But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I hadn’t searched the whole room. I’d only searched the walls.
K.W.: Trap door?
J.W.: Yes, but it’s a trap…
J.W.: Not in the traditional sense, though.
More riddles.
J.W.: Find the door, find your answers.
Before I could ask any more questions, the alias and the profile disappeared, like it had never existed in the first place. What kind of person or tracker account could just disappear off the grid? I mean, I’d gone off grid, but my tracker was designed to glitch. It was an anomaly. But I had to think differently. This wasn’t the tracker network I knew growing up. This was a loophole, and probably some kind of backdoor network. It was a possible failsafe designed to function when the tracker network went down, or something designed to be more than the tracker network but disrupted mid-development.
The second option felt more likely, based on the unpolished nature of the responses. I wasn’t dealing with well-vetted tech. I was dealing with someone’s last ditch effort to maintain control over people and whatever was hiding in the dark corners of the network.
J.W. and S.I.R.E. felt like opposing forces. While J.W. was probably from the shadows, S.I.R.E. was front and center. S.I.R.E. had made it very clear from the beginning that they had all the power and some ability to act on it. But how was S.I.R.E. unaware of J.W. and vice versa? The answer I was seeking felt just out of reach.
I slowly crawled in the dark, running my hands over the hard floor in search of some kind of latch or hole that might indicate a trap door. I methodically crawled from one wall to the other, then inched over and crawled back until I hit the far side of the room.
Nothing.
What had I missed? Was the mechanism in the ceiling? No, it couldn’t be. There was no access to the ceiling unless… It seemed so obvious. I couldn’t believe I’d overlooked the possibility. It had only been six months since I’d been opening doors by hand, but it had quickly become the new norm. This room required an active tracker. While the loophole had given S.I.R.E. access to mind-control others, my active tracker functioned differently. I didn’t have a switch allowing for mind-control, but I did have access to some kind of network. My tracker was the key to solving this mystery.
I reached out for an unlocking app and thought about unlocking a door. When the app activated, it told me there was one door, but I didn’t have permission to open it. That door must have been the main door to the room. Checking again, I found the second door. This one I did have access to. I thought about unlocking it. A loud hiss erupted from the ceiling. A metal clank made me jump, then a light from above flicked on, illuminating a metal staircase that descended from where the light fixture used to be.
I scrambled to my feet and climbed the stairs to find a small, circular room with floor to ceiling computer terminals and monitors. It was like some kind of secret control center. But it was impossible to know who had set all this up.
“Ah, Miss Weiss. You’ve finally solved my riddles,” said a familiar voice.
Chills ran up my spine as I turned in the direction of the voice. On one of the monitors, a familiar but unwelcome face appeared—that of Rufus Scurry.
His hair was longer than I remembered, curlier and scragglier than his usual clean-shaven, polished business look. He wore a nondescript gray shirt, not a vibrant gray but a dull, faded one that highlighted the trials he’d been through. His face looked older, like many more than six months had passed, but the sneer that crossed his lips was unmistakable. He wasn’t done toying with me, not by a long shot. He intended to make me pay for everything that I’d done.
“What do you want?” I blurted before I could fully process everything. If I could see him, he could likely see me. It wasn’t clear from the video monitor where he was or why he’d chosen to lure me to this place rather than face me in person. My mind swirled more and more as the evil grin on Rufus’s face grew. He knew he was about to win a chess match he’d masterfully plotted out. He could see the panic building inside me and was enjoying the show.
But when his creepy smile fully formed, he sat quietly watching, taking in his moment of triumph. I quickly realized how woefully unprepared I was for this situation. J.W.’s warning of a trap had given me no indication to expect something of this magnitude.
“Sit down. We need to have a chat.” Rufus pointed to the single beat-up office chair behind me.
I sat, but not because he asked me to. I wasn’t sure my knees wouldn’t give out on me. “About what?” I spat.
“About how you’re going to repay your debt to me.” If he’d had a mustache, I was certain he’d be twirling it. It was quite clear he was enjoying every minute of watching me try to maintain my composure. He had me exactly where he wanted me—waiting for me to squirm and make a mistake.
“You’ve already taken everything from me! I have nothing left to give!” I screamed at him. I wanted to burst into tears because I knew I still had just about everything to lose, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“I want the only thing you have left.” His grin disappeared, and somehow the blank look was more frightening than his previous expression. “Your freedom.”
Nineteen
After spending years under the control of the authorities and the tracker network, I didn’t have any freedom left. Even though I’d given the world a newfound sense of freedom, I’d quickly learned that I’d signed myself up for a lifetime of cleaning up the mess I’d made. My current situation was no exception.
“If this is freedom, then take it. I don’t want it.” Despite the recognition of truth, my words didn’t change the glee Scurry experienced during our exchange. And to make it worse, I wasn’t sure how he’d even managed to set up the conversation. He was supposed to be in a maximum-security prison without access to any technology. I hadn’t heard any news about him escaping since we last checked on him. Either someone was allowing this, or he’d weaseled his way into a better situation.
“I need a favor from you.” His words dripped with an air of authority that he shouldn’t have in his current situation.
“You’re going to answer my questions first,” I shot back before he could sway the conversation further in his direction. The more I kept him on his toes, the better chance of him slipping up and telling me something that might help me out of this mess.
“Sure, I’ve got all the time in the world.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.
My head swirled as the words I’d just shared with J.W. repeated almost verbatim from Scurry’s mouth. Maybe J.W. was a ploy like the rest of this. I scrambled to come up with a good line of questioning, but my mind came up empty.
So I started with the basics. “You’re S.I.R.E.” It intentionally wasn’t a question to let him know I was on to him.
He nodded but said nothing.
I waited, hoping he would expand, but he didn’t. “So is a four-letter username a new protocol?”
“No, just simply a name—mine, to be more specific.”
I gave him a confused look, which made his smile widen.
“My first name isn’t Rufus. It’s actually Elliot… Elliot Rufus Isaiah Surry.” He leaned back against the bed, waiting for the light bulb to go off in my head.
E-R-I-S… or S-I-R-E backwards. I should have known it was another part of his game.
“What do you really want?” The words spilled out before I could stop them, but I knew deep down there was more he was withholding.
Scurry leaned forward, anticipating this question most of all. “Isn’t that obvious?”
“Enlighten me.”
“If you have to ask, you’re not as smart as I thought you were.”
The answer was simple, but with Scurry, it was never what it appeared to be on the surface. There were always a million things underneath the initial intent that had to be dug up like an ancient tomb. Even still, I needed to hear him confirm it. “You want your life back.”
He winked at me, a small gesture that was goading me to go on. He wasn’t going to indulge me with any concrete answers.
“The real question is, why? You mind-control the world, then what’s left? Where’s the fun in that?”
He laughed, not the mean, sadistic kind that usually erupted from him but a genuine laugh. “You and I aren’t so different, you know.”
Great. More half-answers. “We are nothing alike.”
“No?” He uncrossed his arms and stood. Then shuffled to the far side of the room to pour some water. The camera panned out, showing more of the space, a bed and the single chair he’d been sitting on. Near the bed sat a small end table with a single pitcher of water. The walls and floor were rough unfinished concrete.
It didn’t tell me anything other than he was still locked up some place without many resources beyond a camera that was likely meant to keep an eye on him. Of course, he’d figured out how to hack and manipulate it, just like he did everything else.
“You want to control everyone. I want to set them free. That’s opposite ends of the spectrum.”
“You exchanged one cage for another.”
I scoffed but quickly composed myself, attempting to erase any sense of emotion from my expression. “Things are a lot better off now without the tracker network.”
But I wasn’t sure I believed those words. I’d seen both worlds, and neither seemed like a good solution. The right answer definitely wasn’t a full-on mind-controlled and monitored world. On the flip side, taking away technology that had some positive influence wasn’t exactly the answer either. My thoughts flicked back to the old couple on the street. Were they really better off without the health monitoring capabilities of their trackers?
The sneer returned. Scurry sensed my internal doubt. “The world devoured technology and proved they enjoyed being mindless zombies. I merely quenched their insatiable hunger for it.”
“Technology sure, but they never asked to be your personal mind hacks.” And in that moment, I knew the answer wasn’t one or the other, but both. A little of each. With everything came a balance. We just had to find the right parts to include. “You know there are real people behind those trackers with lives, hopes, and dreams. They’re not your pawns.”
“No, they aren’t. They used the technology with reckless abandon and let it control their lives. They needed someone to show them the way.”
He was sick. He thought people needed him and his tech. In reality, he’d taken it all too far and was afraid to give up the power. Despite all the ramblings of a madman, one question remained in my mind. “Why me?” I asked.
“That, my dear, should be obvious.”
I gritted my teeth to avoid showing him how angry I was at all these games and half-truths. Had he ever seen me as more than a chess piece in his game? I crossed my arms and stared right at the screen, hoping the camera caught my expression that plainly said I was done playing.
When he realized that I wasn’t going to answer his manipulative questions, he said, “You were the one person standing in my way. Without you, I rule the world.”
“Rule? When you finish, there will be no one left to think for themselves. You’ll be nothing more than a glorified puppet master.”
