Killswitch (20 page)

“I'm sorry about Amos. If you can get him here, Dr. John will treat him. But the treatment might not change the outcome.”

Chase nodded. He pulled the door open and left the principal of Storm on the River to her work. Now he had to find Mel. To apologize. Again.

He found her with Switchblade in the clinic, loading a few basic medical supplies into a duffle bag. Dr. John wasn't around.

“You got permission to take this stuff?” he asked.

“No, I'm stealing it.” Switchblade stuffed a bottle of antiseptic into the bag.

“Seriously?” Chase pulled open the top of the duffle to look inside.

“Oh, come on, you know I wouldn't take this stuff. Dr. John gave it to us.” He grabbed the bag away from Chase and zipped it shut. “Look at you walking all over the place. Somebody pray over you, man?”

They probably had, but he didn't acknowledge the question. “Switchblade, could I have a minute alone with Melody?”

“Yeah, I know you messed up again. The girl don't like it when you get all sorry for yourself.”

“OK, that's enough, Switch.” Mel spoke for the first time since Chase entered the room. “Why don't you go check on our ride?”

“You sure you want me to leave you alone with the miracle man?”

“Yes. Please. Take the bag and we'll meet you out front.”

He hoisted the duffel over his shoulder. On his way out, he slapped Chase across the back. “She's all yours, Charlie. Don't mess it up. Might be somebody waiting to clean up after you.” Then he winked at Mel.

She huffed and crossed her arms. Looking at Chase she asked, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I'm an idiot. A few months with an exoself didn't change that. Now that it's gone, I'm back to being a
stupid
idiot. I'm sorry. No more self-pity. I'm going back to Blue Sky Field and I'll do what I can to help. Even if it's not much. And if all I can do is fall deeper in love smartest girl in the underground, then so be it.”

A smile crept in to replace the sour expression.

“And you're not just any girl. You're
my
girl.” Chase put his arms around her. “Forgive me?”

“Seventy times seven.” She held him close.

“Huh?”

“Bible.”

“Oh.” He pulled back and lost himself in her lovely face. “Come on. Let's go home. Back to Blue Sky Field where we belong.”

She took his hand in hers and led him out of the building and into the sunlight. The vehicle this time was an old sedan fitted with an electrical charging system. Dr. John was outside with Switchblade, and he joined Chase and shook his hand.

“I heard about your leader. I'm sorry,” the doctor said. “I probably couldn't help him anyway. We don't have that kind of medicine.”

“Word gets around fast in this place,” Chase said. He looked to the building behind him to find the leader of Storm on the River watching from her office window. She gave him a wave and he returned the gesture. Turning back to Dr. John, he said, “Switchblade doesn't know about Amos. You didn't tell him, did you?”

“No. He was too busy asking about
your
health. That's a good friend you've got there. He's got your back.” The doctor smiled and leaned in. “He's the one who punched you, right?”

“Did he tell you that?”

“Not in so many words, but the combination of guilt and concern…I just figured.”

“A few days ago I could beat him up. Now, he knows he can take me.”

“Like I said, the guy's your friend. Keep your friends close. It's a scary world we live in.”

Goodbyes were shared, complete with hugs and blessings. Chase was getting more comfortable with the Christian life. He loved the way they spoke to each other. The way they loved each other. The way they loved
him
.

But it wasn't his life. It was theirs. Maybe the two-hour drive back to Herouxville would offer a chance to learn more about this stuff. “From
these people
,” he said with a smile. Amos told him God had a sense of humor. He must have a lot of patience too.

“What did you say?” Mel asked.

“These are good people.” He climbed into the back seat. Not much chance of the ride going smoothly. Everything he'd done since he got to Quebec led to trouble. Why would a country drive in an old car be any different?

Mel got in next to him. Switchblade took the driver's seat, and they pulled away from the old school.

“Something ain't right,” Switchblade said. “You two sitting back there and me playing chauffeur. What's with
that
? Let the black guy drive the old junk car while the transhuman and his girl ride in the back? You two better not start up nothin' back there.”

Mel lifted her eyebrows. Chase scooted closer and kissed her.

“Hey now,” she said. “Only thing I'm starting up is my computer. I've got work to do.”

She pushed Chase away. But then she smiled and ran her hand through his hair.

He needed a barber, if not his personal presentation assistant from Synvue. She'd kept him well groomed. Now he was a mess. Unkempt and unshaven. He might as well go with the beard after all. Only Mel didn't seem crazy about it. He stroked her hair.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“I want to know how your signal got to my computer after you got…turned off. And I want to understand the killswitch.”

“I wish you all would stop using that word,” Switchblade said. “I keep thinking somebody's gonna kill me. You know? Kill Switch. Gives me the creeps.”

“Sorry, buddy,” Chase said. “Maybe we should call you something else. What's your real name?”

The man craned his neck to give Chase quick stare-down.

“Watch the road,” Mel told him. “Let's try to get home without any more disasters.”

“Yes, ma'am. Driving Miss Melody. And Mr. Robot.”

Chase smacked him across the back of his head.

“Hey! You still got some punch in you, man. Even without the wired muscles. You two carry on. I'll be quiet. I know my place—I'm the chauffer.”

Chase laughed, leaned back, and closed his eyes. Mel tapped the keys on her computer. Switchblade softly hummed some old tune. Probably one of those hymns. The tires met the road with a peaceful rhythm.

They were going home. He'd rest for now. But before the end of the day's journey, maybe these people—two of the closest friends he'd ever had—would answer the questions nagging at him and pulling him into something he just didn't get. Leaving him homesick for a place he'd never been.

But that empty feeling was nothing more than the hole left in him when the exoself was stolen. The other friend. The one that made him who he was. He wanted it back. That's all.

He opened his eyes and watched the rush of trees and open fields. No way God had anything to with the ache inside him. He let his eyes fall shut. No way.

32

The next time Chase opened his eyes, an ashen cloud cover had overtaken the blue sky. Mel leaned against his shoulder, her breathing heavy, her computer pushed to the side on the seat. Switchblade drove on in silence. A few snowflakes touched down on the windshield and then melted away. Seemed too early in the season for snow.

“Switchblade, you doing all right up there?”

“Aside from your obnoxious snoring, I'm doing just fine. We'll be home in ten minutes.”

“Great.” He stretched and yawned. Mel nuzzled closer but didn't wake. Chase studied the view out the window to his side. Along the bleak horizon where gray hills met the gray sky, a single drone flew in the same direction the car traveled. At the same speed, it seemed. It appeared to be about a mile away and it flew close to the ground. Chase stretched as far as he could with Mel resting on his shoulder and looked out the back windshield. Not a car in sight.

“Hey, do you see that drone?” he whispered.

“Been out there for the last hour. Figured it was headed back to the plant. Maybe somebody got more drones than they needed, considering they never ordered any drones to begin with.”

“Slow to a stop. Let's see what it does.”

Switchblade checked the side mirrors. Then the car dropped its speed. In seconds they were sitting still in the middle of the country road.

And the drone stopped too. It hovered for a moment before it repositioned and headed toward them.

“Oh, crap. What do I do now?” Switchblade yelled.

Mel sat up and grabbed Chase's arm. “What's going on?”

“We've got company.” Chase pointed out the window.

Mel grabbed her computer. “Switchblade, drive.”

“Where to? It's coming after us.” The car lurched forward and then sped up.

The small computer in Mel's lap surged to life, and she pulled up a map of the local terrain. “There's a road just over the next hill. It turns off to the right and ends up at the entrance to some caverns. We'll ditch the car and hide in a cave.”

Switchblade increased his speed. “And get trapped? This thing is probably already calling for backup. We'll never get away if we end up cornered.”

Chase looked at the screen on the laptop. It still registered his location. “Can't you get that thing to stop tracking me?”

“No. I tried,” Mel said. “I can't throw them off, Chase. You were the only who could pull stunts with the Feds.”

Chase put his hands on the sides of his head and let out a groan. “I can't believe this.” He slammed his fist into the backside of the driver's seat.

“You calm yourself down, Charlie. I know you're missing Sparky. Right now we gotta do what we can to get out of this.” Switchblade veered to the right when he reached the hilltop. “You think we should wait it out in a cave?”

“Why not?” Chase threw his hands up. Then he had an idea. A human thought and nothing more. “Yeah, take the road to the cave.”

Switchblade made the turn too sharp and the car's left wheels came off the ground and then dropped back with a thud. The drone was still a good half mile away, which meant they had about half a minute.

The old boarded-up entrance to what used to be a roadside attraction for spelunkers fell into view.

“Stop here,” Chase said. The red dot still flashed on the computer screen. “Melody, leave the laptop in the car.” Chase flung his door open. “Come on—get out! Run!”

Mel and Switchblade followed his example and jumped from the car. They all ran for the cave. The entrance was overgrown with vines. Boards were nailed across to keep out trespassers. It took Switchblade's strength, not Chase's, to pry the wooden planks loose.

Chase grabbed Mel's hand and pulled her into the darkness. Switchblade followed. They ran maybe forty yards before they heard the explosion. Then silence. Waiting for the sound of more forces coming for them, their backs against a cold rock wall, they didn't move. Light from what must have been the burning car crept into the cave and lit their faces.

The fire died down at last and Chase eased to the front of the cave.

“Where are you going?” Mel asked. “Don't go out there.”

“I'll just take a look.”

“Not without us, Charlie.” Switchblade ran after him. Mel caught up and took Chase's hand. They stood together at the mouth of the cave. Nothing. No sounds of drones or vehicles on the ground. Chase perused the parking area. The car was still there. Undamaged. The drone, what was left of it, lay in a smoldering heap. He stumbled to the car and opened the door. From the back seat the computer flashed a number. A code.

32-7.

33

“The exoself,” he whispered. “Hey, old friend.” He picked up the laptop and carried it back to Mel and Switchblade. “It's here. It's been right here the whole time.”

“Chase, what are you talking about?” Mel asked.

“Your computer sparked the protection code. It blew up the drone. Like I did in Atlanta.”

“Sparked?” Switchblade asked. “You mean to tell me you think Sparky is holed up in Melody's computer?”

Chase flipped the screen around and showed them the number. “It left its signature. How else could you explain what just happened?”

“How come it took so long for the Feds to track you? You've been close to that computer since we found you in the truck.” Switchblade circled him, staring at the small laptop.

Mel took the device from Chase and hit a few keys. “I think it was my fault they found us.” She glanced up. “After we left Gagnon, I started trying codes to figure out how the killswitch got activated. I must have inadvertently disabled whatever the computer—the exoself—was doing to hide us. Well, to hide
you
, Chase.”

Switchblade crossed his arms and then ran his hand across his face. “You're buying this? You really think the exoself is in your computer?”

“It makes sense,” Mel answered. “The whole time I was running code I was getting updates from different branches of the underground. Information I wasn't requesting. It just kept coming. Whatever I did to open us up to being tracked must have corrected itself when the drone got near.”

“I don't know, Mel.” Chase took the laptop from her, pushed the screen shut, and held it to his chest. “Maybe you didn't interrupt the code. People are still looking for me. Maybe they got into the system long enough to catch my location.”

“It's possible,” Mel said.

“Then they know where we are,” Switchblade said. “And the drone probably sent an image of the car.”

“You're right about the car, but I'm willing to bet the exoself scrambled the coordinates and they've lost our location. That must be what happened when the truck crashed. The exoself put me somewhere else.”

“No, man, that's crazy. They knew you was in the truck,” Switchblade said. “Been nagging on me for two days. Why didn't they pick you up when they had the chance?”