SOS
I can’t believe Emerson.
He left us standing here without one word of explanation. The moment he saw that InstaQuest he took off at a run, unfazed by the howling wind and rain.
I should have gone with him. I tried, but Dr. Carlyle stopped me. No way was he letting another student barrel off into a thunderstorm. I stood by helplessly as Emerson turned the corner around Grier Hall and disappeared. I have a sick feeling in my stomach that I know where he’s heading.
Maybe Dr. Carlyle has a point. The Overlook is treacherous enough without the added danger of flash floods and lightning strikes. Nora wouldn’t be reckless enough to head that way in a storm…
Not unless she didn’t have a choice.
Dr. Carlyle blocks my path outside. I turn and race upstairs toward the second floor instead. “This way!” I call over my shoulder. “We need a laptop. Now!”
I shove my way through the first open door. Nora’s room. Empty. Her laptop sits abandoned on her desk. I flip it open as Dr. Carlyle enters. My fingers fly through the keystrokes, pulling up the command prompt.
Winthrop Secure Server [10.0.10.240]
<c> 2015 Intellisoft Solutions. All rights reserved.
C:\ Augmented-Reality.exe_
I can’t believe I typed that filename in front of him. If my fate weren’t sealed already, this would do it. But I don’t have time to worry about saving my own neck. I beckon Dr. Carlyle to watch over my shoulder as the system logs in. An array of video feeds populate the screen, and I maximize one of them. “Look! Look at this!”
The grainy image shows a locked gate, a rusted No Trespassing sign dappled by golden sunshine, and the gently swaying shadows of leafy branches.
“There’s no one there,” Dr. Carlyle says. He reaches for the laptop, but I knock his hand away.
“Watch!” I pull up the source code editor and scroll to the lines of code I left in place for the past three days. I delete the OVERLAY statement. Hit return. On the other half of the screen, the live feed updates. Back to real time. The weather changes in an instant, from hazy sunshine to pouring rain.
“Dear lord,” Dr. C mutters, but I ignore him. There’s something else different about the scene. Those markings on the ground weren’t there yesterday when I hiked to The Overlook to watch the search. I zoom in close to get a better look.
Three letters come into focus, scrawled in the mud at the base of the locked gate.
S O S
“It’s them! We have to get up there!”
The image goes blank for a split second, replaced by pure white light. Then a peal of thunder roars outside, loud enough to make the window of Nora’s dorm room rattle. Dr. Carlyle claps a hand on my shoulder to keep me in place.
“No, Maddox.” He shakes his head grimly. “It’s too unsafe. No one’s going anywhere until this storm passes.”
* * *
I whirl around at the sound of Reese’s cry. Emerson kneels on the ground with his sister motionless before him. There’s an odor I can’t quite place, coming from their direction—a faint electrical smell, like burning wire.
What happened? I stumble a few paces toward them. Was she hit by lightning? Something dark oozes from Reese’s left temple, staining the clifftop at Emerson’s knees.
I lift my eyes to him, and only then do I notice the object he’s holding. He shields it from the rain with his chest, juggling it back and forth between his hands like a hot potato. Sizzling hot.
My mouth drops open, and another piece of the puzzle clicks into place. Of course. That Maker Project from TeenHack… I remember thinking it sounded detailed enough to work in real life.
M
Turn any cell phone battery into an electroshock security device (stun gun). Detailed step-by-step instructions…
“What did you do?” My eyes fly to his face. “Did you tase her?”
Emerson turns toward me. “I—I didn’t mean—She was trying to—” He cuts himself off, swallowing the words. He looks almost as shocked as I feel.
“What’s the voltage on that thing?”
“It shouldn’t be enough to knock her out!” A trickle of blood seeps from Reese’s forehead. Emerson stuffs the phone in his pocket and mops her face with the hem of his T-shirt. “She must’ve hit her head when she went down.”
I rush to his side. “Is she breathing?”
He nods, looking past me toward the trailhead. He grabs Reese beneath the armpits and drags her away from the edge of the cliff. “Help me. Take her feet.”
I obey. We won’t be able to carry her down the flooded steps, but maybe we can find a place to shelter until the storm passes. We make it only a few feet before Emerson lets go of her armpits and sinks down onto his haunches. He drops his head into his hands.
I glance at the waterlogged trail. The rushing water looks more turbulent than it did a moment ago. But how deep is it? Maybe I can make it down without being washed away. Maybe if I scoot on my butt from step to step… Maybe. “You stay here with her,” I say to Emerson, approaching the top of the staircase. “I’ll go for help.”
“No. Stay.” Emerson stands and catches me by the arm. His eyes meet mine and narrow slightly, as if he’s seeing me here for the first time. “Wait,” he mutters. “Who are you? Are you Lowercase?”
I nod and lower my gaze, suddenly self-conscious. My eyes land on the rectangular outline in his pocket. I could almost smack myself in the forehead for not thinking of it sooner. That thing is more than a stun gun. It’s his phone! “Do you have cell service?” I ask, gesturing impatiently. “Call 911!”
Emerson remains still. He studies me, his forehead furrowed as if struggling to make sense of my words. Finally, he removes the phone and flicks it on. “Good,” he says slowly. “This is good. This is what we’ll do…”
I wait for him to place a call, but he doesn’t. Instead, he points the phone’s camera lens at my face. He squints at his screen for a moment, then drops his arm to his side. “Come here.” He takes a step toward me. “I need your help.” He grabs my wrist and tugs, pulling me away from Reese, back in the direction of the clifftop.
I wrench my arm, resisting. “Stop! What are you doing?”
“Relax.” He releases his grip. “We need to shoot a video.”
“What video?”
He holds up the camera lens again. “Listen to me. You won’t get in any trouble. You changed the code by accident.”
What?
“The hazard alert code,” he continues. “You wrote it, right? So…maybe you made a typo. You changed the parameter yourself.”
I shake my head slowly back and forth. “No. I didn’t. You know that—”
But I realize he isn’t asking me a question. He’s telling me the lie he wants me to repeat.
I press my palm across my mouth. What’s wrong with him? His sister has a head injury, and he’s worried about some computer program?
He edges a step closer, and I backpedal. I can hear the police tape behind me, fluttering in the wind and pounding rain. He holds his phone in one hand, but he no longer wields it like a camera. More like a weapon—a stun gun. Would a shock from that thing be enough to make me stumble backward?
“This is important,” he says. “This isn’t a joke. Have you heard of corporate liability?”
“Your sister is bleeding!”
“I know, and I will help her in a sec. But this is business. I have a fiduciary responsibility to my investors. Do you know what that word means?” He pronounces it slowly like he’s talking to a little kid, but he doesn’t stop to explain. He comes closer still—uncomfortably close. “Of course you don’t,” he murmurs. “You’re just some teenager at camp. No one will blame you. You made an innocent mistake.”
I stay frozen where I stand, too afraid to back up any farther.
Emerson stops his relentless approach. He frames me in his camera sights again. “OK? Got it? I’m starting the video. Say you changed the code, and that you’re sorry. You’re so, so sorry. And then we’ll call 911, and no one will get in trouble. Do you understand?”
No. I don’t understand. I only know that I feel trapped. I don’t know this man, and I definitely don’t trust him. I clamp my lips shut tight. I’m not doing it. He can’t make me speak words that I don’t want to say.
But the problem is I’m cornered—trapped on this exposed slab of rock, rapidly filling with puddles. He blocks my path back to the safety of the trees.
I don’t dare try to push past him.
I don’t dare do what he says.