The Survival Code, page 13
“Wait. Wait,” comes a muffled reply. “I’ve...something...say something.”
“Yeah, what’s that?” I ask as Toby removes the gun from a holster and makes a disgusted face as he passes it to me. It’s a Glock 22. A classic. My dad would approve.
The chamber indicator says it’s unloaded.
Also weird. Who comes to a confrontation with an unloaded weapon?
“Snuhflahk.”
It sounds like snowflake.
Dad’s safe word.
“Let him turn over,” I tell Toby.
Navarro rolls over slowly into a seated position. Blood runs down the side of his chiseled face. I got a pretty good shot at his nose.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me the first time,” he almost growls.
“Who are you?” While I wait for an answer, I shove the gun into the waistband of my jeans and force myself to step forward and search his pockets. I’m ready with another palm strike if he decides to try anything. Instead, he stays calm and relaxed. The guy smells like a campfire and juniper and some kind of spicy aftershave.
MacKenna and Charles come out of the closet.
“I told you,” MacKenna says. “His name is Gus Navarro.”
Navarro doesn’t resist as I search his pockets. “You don’t remember me? That hurts.”
It’s intended to be a flippant comment, but it has a soft edge. Like his feelings really are hurt. Meanwhile, the things I’m pulling from his pockets cause my stomach to churn. A pocketknife. Waterproof matches. A plastic flask. A few small flares. A box of ammo.
Everything looks familiar. Like a Dr. Doomsday survival kit.
My heart fall into my stomach. “Why would I? We don’t have any classes together.”
“What’s going on?” Toby asks, glancing from me to MacKenna. “You two know this guy?”
“He goes to our school,” MacKenna says.
I straighten up. Try to look as tough as possible. Stare right into the guy’s dark, brooding eyes. “I want answers. And if I don’t get them, I’m gonna load this Glock, and I will totally shoot you in the head. Who told you to say that?”
“Snowflake?” Toby repeats. “That’s important in some way?”
“It’s the safe word,” Charles says.
“Who do you think, Susan?” Navarro smiles.
Like he’s enjoying this.
Like he’s already figured out that I won’t really shoot him.
My pulse quickens at the sight of his lopsided grin.
Which sucks. I’ve already given up any advantage that we might have had due to superior numbers or Dad’s training.
The last interior pocket of Navarro’s windbreaker contains an orange SAT phone and a thin wallet. Rifling through the billfold, I find a couple hundred in cash and a driver’s license.
Gustavo Navarro. That’s his name. He’s eighteen and on top of everything else, he actually has the nerve to look good in his driver’s license photo.
“Gustavo Navarro,” I say out loud, trying to make sense of this.
“I go by Gus.”
My brother scoots out from around MacKenna and approaches Navarro. “I am Charles Maxwell III.” He holds out his hand before I can stop him.
I sigh internally. Dad was never really able to cultivate a sense of distrust in Charles. My brother likes authority figures. He’ll spill his deepest secrets to the mail lady. Gustavo Navarro, clad in his survivalist uniform, fits that bill. He shakes my brother’s small hand.
I toss the wallet in Navarro’s lap. “Why are you following us?”
His smile fades. “My job is to make sure you get on the road. But Dr. Marshall didn’t tell me there’d be anyone besides you and your brother. I don’t know what’s going on here, but whatever it is, it’s not part of the plan.”
“You’re not part of the plan,” I say.
The conversation is unnerving Toby. “You’re saying Dr. Marshall sent you? Sent you to help us?”
Navarro stares at me when he answers. “To help you? No.”
Charles plops down on the bed next to Navarro. “Did my dad really send you?”
MacKenna makes a face. “And do you know what’s really in those tofu nuggets?”
A weird sort of frustration builds up inside me. Almost like riding a bike down a steep hill. I’m going too fast and the brakes won’t work.
Toby wants more information. Charles wants to make new friends. Even MacKenna is relaxing and leaning against the white wall.
“Dad wouldn’t send anyone, Charles. Rule number six is trust no one. And even if he did send somebody to help us, it wouldn’t be a boy we’ve never met before.”
The smirk slides off Navarro’s face. “I’m a man. And we have met before. Last summer? At PrepperCon?”
PrepperCon? Great. I snort. “So you’re one of those idiots who follows my dad around and hangs on his every word?”
MacKenna nods enthusiastically. This might be the first thing we’ve agreed on in months.
Navarro shoots me a dark look. “Yeah. I’m such an idiot. Well, I got you here, didn’t I?”
Of course. It hits me then. “The messages on the laptop? That was you?”
“How did you do that?” MacKenna asks.
I already know the technical details. The real question is why.
Toby preempts me when he says, “Why would you do that? Did you have something to do with what happened at the banks?”
Navarro rolls his eyes. “All I know is that I got a call from Dr. Marshall yesterday. A little after noon. He sent me the script, told me how to run it and then said to meet you here. Except you left the bunker and you weren’t headed here. So I followed you. Going to a college campus in the middle of a riot was stupid, by the way. Very, very stupid.”
Well, that explained his presence in the Student Union kitchen.
“If we’re so stupid, how did we make it past the National Police?” MacKenna returns.
Navarro stands up and we all jump. “Relax. I’m just getting my hat, okay?”
Toby shakes his head. “I’ll get it.” He hustles out the door and returns a second later with the hat, then drops it on the bed next to where Navarro stands.
Navarro sits again. “Thanks. And in answer to your question, you made it past the National Police because I took out the campus surveillance systems. They would have found you in about thirty seconds if they’d been able to see you on the IPTV.”
This makes sense. It explains how we were able to get off campus without being spotted. But there’s something off about it too. Navarro doesn’t seem like a hacker.
“You took the security systems off-line?”
His face flushes pink. “Well, Dr. Marshall did.”
My breath catches.
Navarro’s saying he had contact with Dad. Today.
Charles grins. “You talked to my dad? Did he say when he’s coming back?”
Navarro shifts, and a look of uncertainly falls over his face. Like he’s suddenly realized he’s going to have to be the one to put into words that Dad isn’t coming back. He pats my brother on the shoulder. “He didn’t say, little man. It was a pretty quick conversation. Susan? You want proof?” He points to the orange phone in my hand. “Redial the last number I called.”
I frown. “How do I know it’s not being tracked?”
He shrugs. “You know the deal. It takes about ten minutes to obtain the position of the SAT phone based on a call. You don’t like what you hear? Hang up and get out of here.”
Oh God. This guy sounds like he’s been spending all his weekends with my dad.
Navarro twists his lips into a wry smile. “Oh sure. I know what you’re thinking. How do you know I didn’t make a call when I got here? I didn’t. But if I did, you’d already be pretty screwed. Another twenty or thirty seconds won’t change your fate.”
I find myself smoothing down my hair with my sweaty fingers and then hating myself for how totally stupid this is. I have to focus. Focus.
I pick up the phone and redial the last number in the menu.
The call gets answered on the first ring.
“Is it done?”
Dad.
It’s Dad’s voice.
I have to bite down on my own tongue to keep from crying. “Is what done? Dad. Dad. We’re in some—”
Charles jumps off the bed. “Dad? Is that Dad? Can I talk to him?”
I have to twist and turn to keep the phone out of my brother’s grasp. “Some...um...trouble and...ah...”
“I’m being watched. My location may be compromised. I sent someone to help. I told him all about the trip we took. The one to Snowflake. You may need to make some route modifications, but generally speaking, stick to the Evac plan. I’ll meet you when I can. If I can.” Dad’s voice is hollow. Tired.
“Someone?” The panic I’ve been fighting off since the explosion at First Federal flares up. When I speak again, there’s nothing tough about me. I glance at Navarro. “This guy? How will that help? And we can’t follow the original plan. Mom and—”
“No details.”
“Dad!” Jesus. I’m going to throw up. The remnants of the protein bar are forcing their way back up. “What the hell is going on?”
“Did you get my message? I told...uh...the boy everything that’s safe for you to know.”
Charles is making swipes in the air, grabbing for the phone. “Tell him about the riot! Tell him I solved the clue!”
I have to put my hand on Charles’s forehead to keep him from taking the phone. “Message? Dad. Listen to me. J—um—my stepfather—he’s in jail and Mom thinks—”
“I know.” Flat. Unaffected.
He doesn’t even ask about us. Or say where he is. My building anger is almost a relief. It’s a relief to feel something, anything, besides complete and utter terror. “You know? Well, if you know, then it has to be really fu—”
“Is that language necessary?”
We were very nearly crushed by a building. We were chased out of our house in the middle of the night. And my dad’s big concern is maintaining a PG vocabulary? “—obvious why the plan isn’t going to work.”
“You need to follow the plan. That’s how you’ll be safe.”
“What about Mom?” I ask through clenched teeth. “She told us to find you. She wants—”
“I know what she wants. This isn’t going to end the way she’s hoping.”
God. It’s like he can never say one real thing. “I won’t abandon Mom just because that’s what you did.”
There’s a pause. “I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”
“Meet me? Where? How will you...” I trail off.
“Jinx. Trust no one.”
The line goes dead.
I’m talking to myself and holding a silent phone to my ear.
I open up the motel room door and stumble out, falling onto the concrete, breaking one of Dad’s big rules by leaving the room without determining that it’s safe. MacKenna comes out too. Maybe we’re on friendlier terms now, because she holds my hair while I heave into a planter. I haven’t eaten since that protein bar, so next to nothing comes out and all the stomach acid stays in my throat.
That might have been the last time I’ll ever speak to my father, and he didn’t even tell me he loves me.
I guess I didn’t tell him either.
When I stagger back into the room, MacKenna on my heels, Navarro’s still sitting on the bed while Toby stands near the door. They don’t say anything, and I avoid their eyes as I go into the bathroom to rinse out my mouth.
When I come out, I pull a chair in front of Navarro. Try to seem tough. Try to seem normal. “Okay. What’s the message?”
He smiles. Folds his hands in his lap. Like it’s already occurred to him that the best way to push my buttons is to be calm and unconcerned. I wonder what else my father told him. “You need to get some rest. We have a long drive ahead of us and plenty of time to talk.”
“We’ll talk now.” I stand up straight, plant my feet shoulder-width apart, put one hand on my hip, smoothing my T-shirt to make sure the gun in my waistband is in Navarro’s line of sight. “My father said he gave you a message for me.”
Navarro smiles even wider. “Yep. I see Dr. M put you through Ludvach’s How to Intimidate with Body Language seminar. Good. That stuff’s important.”
I bite down on my lower lip and fight the urge to take the gun and throw it at his handsome face. “Listen. If you think—”
He stands up too. He must have also done the seminar and manages to be much more intimidating than me. “Marshall gave me a job to do. I’m supposed to get you going on his Evac plan to Mexico. Once we cross the border, you get your message. We leave after dark.”
MacKenna joins us and we form an odd circle. “I don’t care what that crackpot Dr. Doomsday has to say. He’s not in charge. Neither are you.”
“I’m not here for you, princess,” Navarro tells her. “So you do whatever you want. But do you really think you can go back to your McMansion and your swimming pool and your fancy clothes? By this time next week, Jay Novak will be the most hated man in the country. The Opposition is out for his blood, and The Spark is trying to deny they’ve ever heard of him. I don’t know how you think this is going to end, but it’s not with you and your dad having a nice steak dinner together.”
“Screw you,” she says, between clenched teeth.
Stomach acid still burns the back of my throat. “Why don’t you just tell me what my dad said?”
“You know why.” Navarro moves even closer, making it clear how much taller he is than I am. “That message is my ace in the hole. Otherwise, we both know that you’ll ditch me the first chance you get.”
I fiddle with the fraying edge of my striped sweater. I can’t believe I have to ask this of a complete stranger. “Do you have any idea where Dad is?”
Navarro shrugs. “About as good of an idea as you do.”
“We need to find him.”
“Find Maxwell Marshall?” Navarro says, his voice laced with skepticism. “You don’t find Dr. Marshall. He finds you.”
Toby watches this conversation from his position in the corner near the door.
It feels stupid to keep standing around. I sit down in the chair again. There also doesn’t seem to be any point in keeping basic things from Navarro. Dad obviously did send him, and we aren’t getting rid of him anytime soon. “My mom thinks that Dad could use his influence with The Opposition to help Jay.”
“Influence?” Navarro repeats, almost chewing on the word. “There’s no way that The Opposition is gonna help Jay Novak. There’s also no way that you’re gonna find Dr. Marshall if he doesn’t want to be found.”
“Well, aren’t you a big ray of sunshine,” MacKenna snaps.
“We should find Dad,” Charles says uncertainly, watching Toby for a response.
“We should figure out what’s up with that laptop,” MacKenna says with far more conviction. But a sympathetic, motherly expression crosses her face.
Navarro’s dark eyebrows travel up his forehead.
Trust no one.
Whatever is going on with the laptop isn’t something we should discuss with a stranger. Particularly one who’s operating according to a set of secret instructions that he got from my father.
Before he can ask questions, I say, “We have to keep going no matter what. We may as well follow the drill. The best way to find Dr. Doomsday is to follow his plan.” Plus, if there’s any truth to what Dad said on the phone—that he’ll meet us—he will expect to find us on the Evac route.
“Good. Then we leave tonight—around seven. As planned,” Navarro says.
Toby finally speaks and, when he does, he directs his remarks to Navarro. “It seems like it makes sense for us to work together.”
Navarro nods. “For now.”
DR. DOOMSDAY SAYS:
SURVIVAL MODE IS THE ABILITY TO TUNE OUT ANYTHING UNRELATED TO ONE’S CURRENT SITUATION. DISASTER IS RARELY SUDDEN. IT BUILDS LIKE A STORM, APPARENT TO ANYONE PAYING ATTENTION TO THE WEATHER.
We settle into a tense silence. But Navarro’s presence throws off the rhythm of the drill.
He leaves the room to get some ice for his nose. When he returns, he spends his time in the desk chair with a cold pack on his face while Charles peppers him with questions. My brother doesn’t let me get a word in, but it’s just as well. I doubt Navarro would answer any of my questions. Toby takes a seat on the bed near the window and turns on the news, flipping through the channels. MacKenna lies down on the opposite bed and resorts to reading the Annika Carver book. Every once in a while, she glances up when we hear Jay’s name on the crappy TV.
There’s never much of an update, and most of the networks are covering the situation at the bank. Discussing the implication for the economy if First Federal can’t recover its records. There are executives in suits trying to be reassuring. A woman with a tearstained face tells the camera that she worries she won’t be able to buy groceries if her bank card won’t work. A computer expert does her best to explain the malware.
I get out the glucometer and take Charles’s blood sugar reading again. He doesn’t squirm like he usually does. The number is high. Which is to be expected. Because of the stress. Also because my brother probably ate a candy bar in the camper when I wasn’t looking.
Digging around in the yellow bag, I find the insulin pen and give Charles his dose. After that, I hunt around for a large bag of almonds and bring them over to where Charles sits next to Toby. “Here. You need to eat these.”
He makes a face. “I don’t want almonds. I hate almonds. They taste like dirt and they’re gross and take too long to chew. You know, the almond is not even a nut. It’s a drupe. They—”
Everything is a fight. Sigh. “Charles! You have to lower your blood sugar or—”
