Authority, page 4
part #2 of The Tracker Sequence Series
Wes nodded. “It’s more than just calming him down. It was like he wasn’t himself. He wasn’t present in the moment. It sounds impossible, but I thought it might be tech related in some way. I knew you dated that tech guy, so I came straight here.”
“That tech guy?” Bailen scoffed.
I shot him a look telling him to knock it off. This was serious.
“Where’s Harlow now?”
“Hell if I know. I wasn’t going to stick around after that uncontrolled outburst.”
“How do you know it wasn’t a joke?” But as soon as the words left my mouth, I knew that’s not what this was. Harlow liked competition and the occasional practical joke, but the Harlow I’d seen earlier in the day didn’t seem equipped for either of those things.
“This was no joke. Even Troy looked scared and took off after I intervened. I’ve never seen Harlow not be able to snap out of anything. It was like someone else inhabited his body.”
“What do you mean by that?” Bailen sat forward in his chair, suddenly reengaged in what had happened.
Wes jumped up from the chair. “What do you mean, what do I mean? Whatever that was, wasn’t Harlow. The dude full-on wigged out on me, went silent and stared into space like he was comatose or something. When he snapped back to it, he screamed, started throwing things, and chased me. The guy’s lost his damn mind.”
As the words sank in, I studied Bailen. None of this made sense. Maybe Wes was right about it being a tech thing. Especially since Bailen perked up with the hint of a new challenge to solve. Something in what Wes said sparked an idea. Bailen’s puzzle-solving expression returned, the one I hadn’t seen since before we took down the tracker network.
“How long did he go silent for?” Bailen asked.
“I don’t know. I didn’t time it. Maybe a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.” Wes pulled tufts of his hair again and sank back to his chair, putting his head between his knees as if reliving the scene was too much for him.
Bailen tapped his fingers on a nearby keyboard but didn’t actually type anything, like the clicking was helping him think. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say someone hacked his tracker.” Now Bailen was typing something into his computer, but I couldn’t see what he was up to.
“Isn’t that impossible?” The words spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them, only because I knew I had single-handedly destroyed the satellite link between our trackers and the communication servers, taking down the entire network. While Rufus Scurry had engineered a loophole in people’s tracking chips that allowed them to be mind-controlled, once we shut down the network, there was no way to access it anymore.
“Most likely, but let’s say hypothetically there was a backup.” Bailen was grasping at straws, wanting there to be a mystery to solve, so he could have a bigger purpose again.
“I doubt there’s a backup. Besides, we watched that server go dead.” There was no way I’d let Bailen drag me down his rabbit hole.
“Think about it though, computers have backup batteries. You think Global Tracking Systems would invent a device that widespread and not have a failsafe in case the original malfunctioned?”
“Sure, there are usually backup plans, and I wouldn’t doubt Rufus Scurry had one, but they arrested him and put him in a place no one will ever find him. If you’re so sure, ask for an unscheduled check-in on Scurry.”
“I already did.” Bailen spun his computer around to show the image sent in reply.
I barely recognized the man in the black-and-white image. Scurry’s hair was longer than I remembered, curly and scragglier, and his facial hair was overgrown like he hadn’t been allowed to use a razor. His face looked older, as though many more than six months had passed. He sat on a cot with a single book on the small table beside him. His eyebrows had a murderous arch to them like he knew he was having his picture taken and who was requesting it.
A shiver ran up my spine. I looked away from the image. I didn’t want to see him ever again. “See, right where we left him. What makes you think there’s someone else out there capable of this?”
Plenty of people were angry about losing their trackers, but the rioting stopped months ago. I couldn’t believe there was someone else out there that knew about the loophole and wanted control of people.
“I saw Harlow before. There was something about how he looked. I was willing to write it off the first time, but this I can’t ignore.” Bailen’s expression was as serious as stone.
“He looked tired and stressed.” I glanced at Wes, but he still had his head between his legs, unable to process anything around him. “I doubt it’s anything more.”
“Think about it for a minute. There’s always someone out there pushing boundaries. Who wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to restart the tracker network? We should have planned for this.” Bailen shook his head as though disappointed the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before.
“Even if that’s what happened, we have no proof.” We had severed the connection between trackers and the satellites that allowed for instant access and connection. But I wondered if that was something easy to fix or restart.
“There’s only one way to find out what’s going on.” Bailen had already retrieved his old go kit from the top shelf at the edge of the room and was filling it with equipment. “We’ve got to run some diagnostics on Harlow’s tracker.”
“Good luck finding him. He followed me for a little while, but I’m not sure at what point I lost him.” Wes’s muffled voice interrupted Bailen’s scurrying around the room.
He had a point. Without active trackers, finding someone wasn’t as easy as pulling up a computer and hunting down their tracker coordinates. We’d have to retrace his steps from his last known location.
Bailen seemed a bit flustered, but I couldn’t tell if it was Wes’s words that had shaken him or if it was because he was trying to remember all the things he needed to bring in his kit.
“We’ll start at Harlow’s roof and see if there are any clues. Hopefully, there’s something to lead us to him,” Bailen said.
It seemed like an obvious first step, but with Wes so shaken and Bailen in mission mode, I didn’t think either of them was fully processing what needed to happen.
“Can we bring Jeremy?” Even though Jeremey hadn’t been around as much the last few weeks, he still came to the Coderie on Fridays to help out and share his coding skills from his time with the Ghosts. If we were going to make any progress, I needed another clear mind—and some muscle in case we found Harlow in the state Wes had described.
“Already ahead of you. I pinged him a little bit ago.”
As if on cue, Jeremy rounded the corner with a black box identical to Bailen’s.
“All packed up?” Bailen asked.
Jeremy nodded and held up his kit like it was lighter than air. Those kits contained a ton of equipment, but Jeremy had enough strength to lift a truck, so to him it probably was an easy load. “Yep, I’ve kept it on standby ever since the riots.”
“Then let’s hit the road.” Bailen headed for the door with a purposeful stride.
Jeremy wasn’t far behind, leaving me to deal with Wes.
“Are you okay to come back with us?” I asked.
Wes lifted his head and met my gaze, looking through me rather than at me.
“WES!” I shook his shoulders. “Snap out of it.” I didn’t think I could handle any more zoned out guys today.
Wes slumped in a way that made his almost six feet of height appear insignificant.
I rubbed his back. “Come on, we need your help. I’ll be there the whole time. We won’t let Harlow hurt you.”
He nodded and shuffled his feet toward the door. That was the best I could ask for. We met Jeremy and Bailen on the street corner outside the Coderie.
They chatted about what they might find and their approach to investigating Harlow’s possibly defunct tracker. I only caught every few words because I couldn’t help staring at Wes and the distant, confused look on his face. He was so shaken by what happened. As out of it as Harlow had been, maybe Bailen was on to something—but I wouldn’t join that train of thought until I saw Harlow again.
The shadows of the high-rise buildings felt like they were about to swallow me whole. While the world was changing, nothing was simple. Some people were thankful to have their privacy back, but many more hated that the tracker network was gone. Even if they didn’t know the Ghosts were directly responsible, it seemed like half the world indirectly blamed me for what had happened. And it wasn’t a total lie.
A loud scream tore me from my thoughts.
“Somebody, help my husband! Help! Help me, please!”
Bailen and Jeremy tore off down the block toward the screams. I bolted after them, glancing to check for Wes, who had no sense of urgency. At least he was still moving in the right direction, even if it was at a snail’s pace.
I skidded to a stop next to Bailen, who was inspecting an elderly man lying on the sidewalk. Bailen put his ear to the man’s chest, listening for breathing and a heartbeat.
I stepped around Jeremy and approached the elderly woman standing over the man. “Ma’am, what happened?”
“He clutched his chest and collapsed. He has a heart condition.” Tears streamed down her face. “Can you call 911?”
“What’s 911?” I asked, confused by the question. I silently cursed myself for leaving the sat phone at the Coderie yet again.
“It’s how we used to call for help. I thought they said they were going to reinstate it.” The woman let a long wail.
I hadn’t remembered hearing anything about it, but it seemed like one more broken thing in our world, post trackers.
“He’s still breathing, but I think he needs a hospital,” Bailen said. Without waiting for any of us to respond, Bailen scooped up the man and ran in the direction of the hospital several blocks east of where we were.
The old lady’s tears turned to loud sobs. “His tracker used to alert us of irregular heart rhythms. But ever since…” She wailed and clutched her pearl necklace. She sniffed and snatched a Kleenex from her purse. “His health has been declining. With the tracker readings, we knew when to go to the hospital.”
She shook her head and slowly shuffled along the sidewalk in the direction Bailen had run off, mumbling about being married over sixty years.
I stood where the woman left me, unable to move. Stunned that despite all the bad we’d eliminated, we’d still left voids in the world. Trackers weren’t all bad, of course, but ever since I’d joined the Ghosts, I thought the bad far outweighed the good. A small part of me wondered if I’d been wrong. Wrong to give up on the technology. Wrong to shut down the tracker network. Wrong to make that decision for everyone. Who was I to decide this?
Jeremy snagged his and Bailen’s kits and nudged me as he stepped up to the next street corner. “Come on. I’m sure Bailen will meet us there.”
I nodded and checked to make sure Wes was still headed in the right direction. He scuffed his feet, approaching the corner as if nothing had just happened. His hands slid into his jeans pockets and his shoulders slumped. His head was down, gaze fixed on the cracks in the sidewalk. Despite his state of shock, I almost envied his inability to register what had just happened.
When the signal changed, Jeremy, Wes, and I crossed the street and headed down the block to Harlow’s apartment complex. While the path to Harlow’s was clear, the destruction of the tracker network and the benefits we’d lost left more and more questions in my mind.
Five
Ten minutes later, we stepped onto the roof of Harlow’s apartment complex. The party had long been abandoned. Several picnic tables had plastic cups and paper plates strewn across them, many with half eaten food and discarded drinks. There was no sign of anyone. The light breeze picked up some of the empty plates and cups, scattering them around the rooftop.
Jeremy inspected the leftovers from the party, starting with the table, while I walked the edge of the roof looking for clues. I tiptoed around two small piles of broken glass. At least that part supported Wes’s story. Passing the empty cooler with broken remnants from the water balloon excursion, I ducked behind some of the chimneys in search of Harlow. We used to hide between them and make out. It was the only place we could get some privacy. But not even the blankets or candles we usually left behind were anywhere to be found. Our entire relationship had been erased. Maybe Harlow had been too.
I circled back to the main part of the roof, inspecting the plates and cups as I looked for signs of poison or other foul play, not that I knew what any of that looked like.
“Find anything?” I asked.
“Only an abandoned party, but I feel like we’re missing something,” Jeremy said with a sense of determination I hadn’t seen since we’d thwarted the authorities.
I nodded in agreement. My brain was scrambling for other explanations for Harlow’s weird outburst. The ironic thing was, if the tracker network was still active, Bailen or Jeremy could hack it to see if the food or drinks had any chemical imbalances or other anomalies to explain what had happened. But alas, everything came up empty.
I sat next to Wes at the end of the picnic table, where he stared off into the distance at the other high rises. I placed my hand on his shoulder, careful not to spook him. He didn’t flinch but also didn’t acknowledge my presence. “Anything else you can remember?”
He shook his head ever so slightly, then continued to stare into the distance as though searching for answers to his unspoken questions.
I crossed the roof to where Jeremy squatted over some empty alcohol bottles. “Do you think they were drunk?”
Jeremy lifted one of the bottles and sniffed it. “Probably, but based on what Bailen said, this didn’t seem alcohol related.”
He was likely right, but I couldn’t find another explanation. The tracker scenario was looking more and more plausible. I didn’t have the strength to admit that maybe this wasn’t over like we had thought.
“We should go down to Harlow’s apartment and see if we can find any clues there,” I said.
“Sounds like a plan. Lead the way.”
I glanced back at Wes, who was still staring into space. He wasn’t going anywhere, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to drag him through any more potential trauma. I knelt next to him. “Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”
He nodded and slowly rose from the bench, making his way to the stairs.
I followed behind, with Jeremy on my heels. A couple of flights down, Wes opened the door and disappeared behind it, likely headed for the elevator. Jeremy and I continued on, stopping once we reached the fifty-second floor. I paused before opening the door. The last time I stepped through this exact door, I’d caught Harlow cheating. Despite being on Harlow’s floor earlier, there was something about the door that stirred a visceral reaction within me. Something I wished I could forget. However, it was also the night I met Emily, and I wouldn’t change that for anything. There was always some good with the bad.
I mustered up the courage and yanked the door open, walking to the right, toward his apartment. When we reached his door, I knocked. The door creaked open as if the place had been the scene of a robbery. The living room appeared identical to how it was a few hours earlier.
I stepped over the threshold. “Harlow? Are you home?”
The silence that met my call was deafening. Blood pulsed in my ears. I motioned for Jeremy to follow me. He did without a word.
“Harlow?” I tried again from the living room. “It’s Kaya.” I paused, unsure if I was talking to thin air or not. “Wes told me what happened. We want to see if you’re okay.”
Nothing. I rounded the corner and crept down the hallway toward his room, the first door on the left. The door was open, so I peered in. Here was the disaster I had expected to find in the entrance. He was normally pretty organized other than his desk, which always had books and clothes from soccer practice draped off the chair.
But this was quite a different scene. His closet looked like it had thrown up all over the room. Dirty dishes were on almost every surface. His soccer trophies were everywhere, with broken pieces by the wall, lying forgotten. Even his posters of soccer legends and favorite actresses had been ripped from the walls, some hanging in pieces and others fallen to the floor.
This was not the Harlow I knew. There was something going on with him, something I didn’t have an explanation for. Where was he? I continued down the hall to his sister’s room. The door was wide open and looked unlived in. She was about to graduate college, so I wasn’t the least bit surprised by the cleanliness there.
I crept further down the hallway and peered into the bathroom on the right. Nothing out of the ordinary there unless you counted the giant soccer ball shower curtain that was probably more enticing to an eight-year-old. Harlow had played for as long as I could remember.
“Harlow? It’s Kaya.” I tried again even though it wasn’t likely to make him manifest in a deserted apartment.
Pivoting away from the bathroom, I stepped back down the hall toward the living room, since the only thing left at the end of the hall was Mr. and Mrs. Green’s room. I motioned to Jeremy to do the same when a quiet creak sent shivers down my spine. I froze and listened, expecting another noise, but none came. I rocked on my foot, testing the floorboards, and was met with silence. Someone was in the apartment.
I waved to Jeremy and pushed a finger to my lips. I tiptoed toward the last door at the end of the hall, hoping I didn’t find any squeaky floorboards. When I reached the door, I tapped it twice with one knuckle. I’m not sure why I knocked, maybe fear of what I might find inside. The door shifted with a creak, so I pushed it the rest of the way open.
The dark room had shadows from the bed and nightstands, as well as a chair from the corner, but no people shadows.
“Harlow? Are you in here?”
I stepped inside the bedroom, feeling out of place. The hair on my arms stood on edge, like something might jump out at any moment. The closet door was cracked. I reached for the knob to pull it open. It was pitch black. I fumbled for the light.
