Authority, page 5
part #2 of The Tracker Sequence Series
When I flicked it on, I screamed and leapt backward into Jeremy, who I’d completely forgotten was behind me. I grabbed the Jewish star hanging from my necklace and twisted the chain between my fingers while I waited for my breathing to calm.
Harlow sat in the middle of the closet floor, wide eyes staring down at his torn up, bloody knuckles.
“Harlow?” My voice was shaky so I tried again. “Harlow, are you okay?”
He didn’t move or say a word, still frozen in shock.
“Can you get a closer look at his injuries?” Jeremy whispered so softly I almost missed what he said. He was much better under pressure than I was.
I gave him a single nod, then took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. But I didn’t have time to waste. I stepped toward Harlow. He lunged forward. I jumped away from him, my breathing heavy, and landed on Jeremy’s toe. “Sorry,” I muttered.
“Stay back. I can’t trust myself.” Harlow’s voice was raspy and slow, unlike his usual tone. I couldn’t tell if it was pain, sadness, or something else.
“What’s going on?” I whispered, afraid to spook him further. Before, an episode like this would have triggered the authorities, or someone would have alerted them with a tracker. If we called someone now, it would probably be hours before anyone showed up. We didn’t have that kind of time. It was up to me and Jeremy to keep him calm while my insides were screaming at me. “What happened?” I asked again, trying to get Harlow to say more.
“I don’t know. And that’s exactly the problem. Just stay away. Before I hurt you, too.” The words came out so quickly they blurred together.
Too? How badly had he hurt Troy? Wes looked relatively unscathed, but Harlow’s knuckles were pretty raw. What had Harlow done? “Wes is fine; he went home. He told us what happened, or at least some of the story. Maybe you can fill in the rest?”
Harlow clenched his fists and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, smearing a light trail of blood across his face. “I wish I knew.”
“How about we talk through it?”
He nodded.
I was pretty sure that was all I was going to get from him, so I continued. “Can you come out of there so we start at the beginning?” I didn’t really want him to lunge at me again, but it seemed like he was calmer and more aware of his surroundings. Plus, I needed him to move so Jeremy and I could help him.
Harlow’s gaze snapped to his hands. His eyes widened as he saw his torn-up knuckles for the first time. He turned his hands over and revealed more tiny cuts and scratches with dried blood across his palms. Pushing past me and Jeremy, he darted for his parents’ bathroom on the other side of the room. He rushed to the sink, flipped it on, and started scrubbing his injuries, wincing as water seeped into the open wounds.
Then I remembered what Wes said about him throwing bottles and the broken glass piles. He possibly had some glass still in those cuts. I searched the drawers and grabbed the tweezers just in case.
“Harlow?” I said softly, but he wasn’t registering I was there. I looked back and caught Jeremy searching the area. When he came up empty, he shrugged his shoulders, then nodded toward Harlow, silently encouraging him to talk to me.
I inched toward Harlow with my hand outstretched. Arm shaking, I gently touched his shoulder with two fingers. “Harlow?”
He whipped around, startled like he had been on the street a few hours ago. His gaze shifted toward me, finally realizing I’d said his name, but not seeming to understand. His shoulders slumped. He sank to the floor, leaving the sink still running. He dragged his knees to his chest and buried his face in his hands, not caring that they were soaking wet.
I stepped closer and reached slowly for the faucet. When I was certain he was done being startled, I turned the handle on the sink and shut off the water, then sank to the floor next to him. I rubbed my finger over an uninjured patch of skin on the back of his hand. When he didn’t fight me, I gently pulled his hands down from his face.
“May I?” I held up the tweezers and pointed to his hand.
“Sure.” He winced as I grazed a tender spot on his palm.
“You know you can tell me anything,” I whispered, staring at my work so I didn’t have to make eye contact with him.
He nodded. “But not this.”
I blew out a long, slow breath in an attempt to stay calm. “Why not?”
“You already hate me. After this, you’ll never speak to me again.”
“Hate you?” I squeezed his shoulder. When he didn’t flinch, I grabbed his cheeks and tilted his head upward, forcing him to make eye contact. “I could never hate you. I want to help. Because I care about you.” Despite growing in different directions, we had come to a mutual understanding that we weren’t right for each other. While things had been rocky since, I didn’t wish this pain on anyone.
“You could never understand.” He peeled my hands off his cheeks. His head slumped down.
“I’m listening. Help me understand.” I had no idea what this was really about, but if he was struggling to explain it to me, it had to be something serious. He’d always been easygoing, even when we’d broken up. He’d been upset, but it didn’t seem to affect him like this. If I couldn’t get him talking, then I wouldn’t be able to help him.
“Your tracker is dead. You could never understand.”
“Try me,” I said through gritted teeth. I’d been through hell because of my tracker—thinking I’d done something to cause my tracker to glitch, then running from everyone I cared about to protect them. The authorities had wanted to lobotomize me, and the Ghosts had wanted to study me. While I wouldn’t have Bailen and the rest of the Ghosts as friends without the whole mess, I’d still lost a lot, including my brother. Harlow’s words stung, but this was bigger than a one up competition on how much pain trackers had caused.
Dread circled me as the meaning of his words sank in. He’d said my tracker was dead. Not his. I was afraid of what came next, but I needed to hear him say it.
“I went through things no one else experienced or understood, so while your situation may be a bit different, I bet I can sympathize.”
He nodded once, as if he was trying to tell himself that it was okay to talk to me about this. Hopefully, the secret he’d buried was ready to come out.
“I’m losing time again.” He rubbed his face and groaned in pain. “Larger chunks than before. It scared me, but now I’m starting to get flashes. I’m not sure if it’s memories or nightmares. But if I’m doing something and not remembering, then I need to stop it.”
I sucked in a deep breath. As much as I wanted there to be an explanation for all this, what I dreaded most was looking more and more like reality. Harlow was clearly under a lot of stress, which can do strange things to people. I hoped it wasn’t what we all feared it might be. Either way, I was worried. “Harlow, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know if it’s real. And I didn’t know if anyone would believe me.”
“I would. The Ghosts would.”
“Right, I’m supposed to talk to my ex and her new boyfriend about my issues. Sure.”
Fair point. I could see the hesitation. “But you’re talking to me now.”
He shrugged.
Before he could refute anything, I added, “I appreciate you letting me try to help.” I opened my arms to invite him for a hug. He side-armed me. It stung a bit, but when we broke up, we must have given up hugging privileges. At least this was forward progress. “If you really think it’s your tracker, maybe we can look at it?”
“I guess.” The soft words slipped through his lips without recognition that he’d said them.
I turned to Jeremy and waved him over. He stepped up with his kit and took out the sensors. “May I?” He held the sensors in front of Harlow’s face.
“Sure. What have I got to lose?”
I grabbed his hand and rubbed my thumb over the back of it, careful to avoid his roughed-up knuckles. It was more in an effort to comfort him, but when he squeezed my hand in return, I felt relieved. Maybe we were okay. Maybe.
Jeremy attached the sensors to Harlow’s temples and the base of his neck, then ran the wires to his laptop, one I hadn’t seen in over six months. One I thought we would never need again.
Jeremy booted up the program. The sensors buzzed to life. Harlow sat still, unaffected by the vibration.
I glanced at the screen, eyebrows furrowed. I’d gotten used to reading some of the tracker diagnostics, but this one was a mystery. I turned to Jeremy, hoping he had some answers, but he shook his head. “After your anomaly signal, I’d thought I’d seen it all.”
“But?” I asked.
“I’ve never seen anything like this. The reading is showing the tracker is offline and online at the same time, which doesn’t make any sense.”
“Do you think it’s similar to when my tracker shut down, but it was still putting out a low-level signal?”
“Not exactly. It’s like it’s saying the reading is true and false at the same time. We’re going to have to get him back to headquarters and get Bailen to help examine this further.”
Harlow shot to his feet and ripped the sensors from his temples with a single tug. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jeremy winced. “Careful with the equipment.”
“Sorry.” Harlow shrugged, handing the leads back to Jeremy.
I rose from the floor and reached to peel the third sensor off the back of Harlow’s neck before he damaged it further, but he dodged like a prize-winning fighter. I dropped my hands in frustration.
“Harlow, you can’t keep going on like this.”
His head fell, but he said nothing.
Maybe another angle would work better. “When are your parents coming home?”
“Monday. I think?” He rubbed his face again. “I’m not even sure what day it is anymore.”
“Friday,” I answered automatically more out of sympathy than anything else. “Since no one is around, why don’t you come by for Shabbat dinner tonight.” I nudged him playfully with my elbow. “Lydia will be there. It’ll be like old times.” Despite my calm tone, I silently hoped he’d take the bait. I couldn’t leave him alone like this all night.
Harlow let out a laugh but quickly clamped his mouth shut, like he couldn’t allow himself to be happy.
Friday night dinners with Harlow and Lydia had grown to be a tradition—well, at least before my tracker glitched. And before Jake… I couldn’t let myself finish the thought. While I didn’t cry every day anymore, Jake’s death still hit me at the strangest times. Mostly when I was thinking about things he would have loved but would never get to see.
This weekend was supposed to be the first reemergence of those dinners. I’d been missing those connections with the people I cared about. Maybe it was fate that Harlow might be there after all. Lydia could help bring him back from whatever this was, and Dad could provide some insight into what was happening. Either way, Harlow needed a break from reality.
“Come on. I won’t take no for an answer. Besides, my parents will be glad to see you.”
Harlow lifted his head until he finally made voluntary eye contact for the first time. “They don’t hate me?”
“Why would they hate you?” Harlow and I were friends long before we’d dated. Even though things didn’t last, they never blamed Harlow for our breakup. My parents still respected him and said hi to his family at temple.
“After everything that happened.”
I threw my arm around Harlow and hugged him even though he didn’t reciprocate. “Just because we grew apart doesn’t mean they don’t want to see you. You’re family.”
He shrugged, not completely convinced.
“Besides, who else is going to finish off an entire plate of kugel?”
He laughed, then let himself fully smile and embrace it. The Harlow I’d known before was coming back a little.
“I need to shower,” Harlow said, returning to a serious tone.
I glanced back to Jeremy, who had packed up his equipment.
“I can hang here for a bit if you want,” Jeremy said.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Harlow groaned.
“It’s just in case something else happens. I can monitor it.” Jeremy held up his kit.
“Whatever dude. TV’s in the living room.” Harlow disappeared down the hall, leaving my earlier invitation unanswered.
I nodded a silent thank you to Jeremy, feeling a little better about having to leave to set up for Shabbat dinner.
Jeremy angled his head toward the door and I nodded. Nothing else I could do here. If I loosened Harlow up a bit, there was a chance he’d let the Ghosts take a closer look at his tracker. The more I distracted him, the better. If I could get Harlow to show up to dinner, then we could start to understand what happened before anyone else got hurt, or worse, he hurt himself.
Six
I rounded our dining room table one last time, checking every place setting for silverware, plates, and water cups. Then I laid out the candlesticks, Challah, and wine for Shabbat dinner. A knock at the door distracted me from my final count of the wineglasses. I gave up and made my way through the living room to the front door. No need to check the peephole to see who was here. It was mishpuchah, so I pulled open the door.
Bailen stood in the entryway in khakis and a teal button-up shirt that accentuated his green eyes. His wild brown hair was the only thing untamable.
“You look nice.” I leaned in and kissed him. “Hope everything went okay at the hospital.”
“Got there just in time. They’re monitoring him overnight, but I stayed until his wife got there.”
I stepped aside to let Bailen move into the entryway as I closed the door behind him. “It’s a good thing you’re fast.” I nudged him playfully with my hip.
He grabbed my waist and pulled me in close for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate, like he hadn’t seen me in a week—which was ironic because we’d practically spent the whole day together, and over the last six months, we’d seen each other almost every day.
I stepped back from the hug and intertwined my fingers with his, leading him toward the couch. He plopped down in the center, and I nuzzled in next to him, allowing him to put his arm around me.
“How’d it go with Harlow?” he asked casually, but his tone dripped with concern.
“It’s complicated. I’m not sure he’s going to let us help him.”
“I know you can be very convincing.” He lightly tickled my side, and I giggled.
“Apparently not convincing enough.” My gaze dropped to the floor, letting the laughter fade. I wondered if my Shabbat dinner invitation would go unanswered.
Bailen put his fingers under my chin and lifted my head. “What’s wrong?”
“I didn’t want to admit it, but I think you were right.”
He smirked, enjoying the admission. “I’m always right, but what about specifically?”
“Harlow’s tracker. Jeremy picked up a weird signal.” I paused to collect my thoughts. “He thinks the network, or part of it, is active again. Someone might be exploiting the loophole to mind-control Harlow through his tracker again.” I sighed as my shoulders drooped. “I don’t know if I can handle another tracker catastrophe.” My words couldn’t convey the ominous cloud building inside me, the one that told me I knew the truth but didn’t want to accept it.
Bailen ran his fingers through my hair, sending a shiver down my back. “Why do I always have to be right about the things I don’t want to be right about?” He bent down and gave me a quick, reassuring peck on the lips. “Whatever this is, we’ll tackle it together.”
I squeezed his hand. “Together.”
The front door swung open and Lydia strolled in. She plopped onto the loveseat next to the couch. She’d spent so much time here, my parents had given her tracker unlock access. When the tracker network came down, they’d given her the code to the door. “Sorry, did I interrupt something?”
“Nope. How’s your day off been?”
Teacher development days were the best, but Lydia’s parents always insisted she do something educational with single days off from school. I’d offered to let her join the coding sessions with the Ghosts, but she passed to work on her robotics build for the upcoming competition.
“Productive. We adjusted the arm so it’s about ninety percent effective. We’re going to crush this competition.”
“That’s awesome. I can’t wait to watch the bot in action.” Robotics competitions were more exciting than soccer games. Like soccer, they required strategy, but there was also problem solving on the fly and teamwork—without all the chest bumping. And the competitions were infinitely harder now without the direct tracker connection to the bots.
Bailen stared at me. “How come no one told me there were robots?”
I elbowed him and laughed. “Don’t you think you have enough going on right now?”
“But robots!” He laughed as he tried to fake pout.
“It’s a school team, so as much as I’d love to have your coding expertise, if you joined, it would disqualify us.” Lydia shrugged with a look that said she was truly sorry, but her hands were tied. “The team would never let me hear the end of it. This is the first time we’ve made it to nationals, so we can’t do anything to jeopardize our chances.”
“Did you hear that? She called me a coding expert.” Bailen’s smile was brimming with more pride than when he was right about something.
“I believe she said coding expertise, not expert. But thanks for inflating his ego a little bit more.” I kicked the toe of Lydia’s boots.
“No problem.” She laughed. “Whatever I can do to help out your relationship.”
“Dinner’s ready,” Mom called from the kitchen.
“Coming.” I called back, but the dread began to swirl. What if Harlow wasn’t coming? What if I wasn’t as convincing as I could have been? Ex-boyfriend or not, I couldn’t let him struggle through his time lapses on his own. Shabbat or not, I resigned myself to go hunt him down after dinner.
