The Rule of Thoughts (8 page)

Gerard confirmed his suspicion. “Anything you want to say to my daughter can be said to us.”

Sarah finally found her voice, rock-steady. “Mom, Dad, this will be easy. There’s no way anybody could fake being Michael. If this guy is telling the truth, I’ll know in three minutes, tops. But we really need to be alone.”

Michael almost blushed at that, though it was true. Everything they had to talk about would freak her parents out. And she was probably dying to know what had happened after she’d been virtually killed by the lava.

Gerard and Nancy exchanged looks, understandably wary. “I’m almost eighteen,” Sarah said. “If you can’t trust me by now, then you never will. If he’s my friend, I want to be alone to talk. If he’s not, what can he do in three minutes?” She gave him a once-over that seemed to say,
Look at him; the kid couldn’t hurt a fly
.

Gerard stood up and moved next to Michael, leaned toward him until it seemed certain he’d topple into Michael’s lap. He wore a musky cologne.

“Stand,” he commanded.

Michael did as he was told, and then, using his free hand, Gerard patted him down like a seasoned cop.

“Dad,” Sarah groaned.

Gerard finished up and took a step back. “All right, then. We’ll be in the kitchen. One peep from my daughter and I’ll be back in here faster than you can blink.” He sniffed, then took his wife by the hand. He stopped right before he left the room and looked back. He seemed to be stifling a smile when he added, “And … nice to meet you.”

Michael released a big breath. The man was softening.

Sarah quickly walked forward until she was only inches away from Michael.

“Okay,” she said. “Convince me.”

They sat on the couch, turned to face each other. Sarah pulled her legs up under her, one arm draped over her ankles as she solemnly stared at Michael. So many emotions bubbled inside him, but mostly he just felt an overwhelming sense of how surreal things had become. This girl was his best friend—one of two, anyway—and yet they’d just seen each other for the first time. And for him, the first time since becoming a human.

“I … It’s hard to know where to start,” he said.

“Wherever you need to,” she replied, green eyes blazing. “I need to know it’s you, Michael.”

He nodded. “Yeah, okay. Well, I was with you when you got killed on the Path. The lava. I wanted to die and come back to the Wake with you, but … you made me promise to finish. And I did. I guess.”

“Not good enough, moron. Kaine was watching everything we did. You could’ve been told what to say. Or seen it yourself.”

Michael sighed. He’d suddenly lost all patience for proving himself, because he had something much bigger to say that would nail her jaw to the floor in shock. But how did he get there?

“We met at Dan the Man Deli,” he began. “You and I love bleu chips, Bryson hates them. He says they smell like feet. On a troll.
Lifeblood
is your favorite game. You tried hard to match my Experience Points, but I was always a little ahead. Bryson didn’t care as much, as long as he was close. We have a fort programmed on the outskirts. No one knows about that. Only the three of us.”

A smile grew on Sarah’s face as he talked, but she didn’t show any sign of wanting to stop him. Maybe she enjoyed seeing him struggle a bit.

“One time we couldn’t find Bryson and we had a joint mission in
Lifeblood
. We searched all over. We finally found him at the Gorgon Nests making out with that alien chick. We never did find out if she was a Tangent or not.”

Sarah made a noise that might’ve been classified as a snicker.

Michael kept going, the memories pouring out of him in a rush. He didn’t have to dig deep; they were all there,
close to the surface, most of them pleasant, fun to talk about. Hacking into places they shouldn’t have been. Being chased by VNS agents before such things had literally become life or death. Gaming stories, good and bad. Sharing it all made him feel warm inside—not just remembering all the good times they’d had, but knowing that the Mortality Doctrine process had truly transferred everything that made him … him.

“Okay, you can stop now,” Sarah said. “I believe you.”

Michael was in the middle of a story about a game called
Deceit and Destruction
, but he happily shut up midsentence. His face was warm, almost hot. She knew it was him; he’d stopped worrying about that almost from the get-go. But now he felt like a heavy chunk of steel had been placed on his heart. He had to tell her the truth: that the friend she knew as Michael was trapped inside a guy once named Jackson Porter.

The HoloProj continued on the wall, showing news story after news story. Michael had almost forgotten about it, the noise drowned out by his hammering thoughts. He stared at the images for a minute, needing the distraction, then looked at Sarah. She could tell something was wrong.

“Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re holding back?” she asked. “And not just about what happened on the Path after I died.”

Michael sighed. It was now or never. It had to be now. “You’re right. I haven’t told you all of it by a long shot. I don’t even know if you’re going to believe it. I wish you could just read my mind.”

“Spill it, kid.”

The words had barely come out of her mouth when the house rocked with a gunshot in the kitchen. They heard a woman’s scream, followed by the clanging of pots falling to the floor and the loud cracks of dishes breaking. Then the gun fired again. This time no one made a sound.

Sarah was up off the couch, moving before Michael could grab her. She was across the room, heading for the kitchen, Michael on her heels.

“Sarah, stop!” he yelled. “Stop!”

She didn’t even slow down. Michael imagined someone waiting for her, gun loaded, ready to kill. He tried to catch her, but she was too far ahead. He slipped into the hallway, ran toward the kitchen. Sarah stood frozen just past the doorway. His heart lurched: he was expecting another gunshot. Expecting his world to crumble in front of him.

But nothing happened.

He threw his arms around his friend, pulling her back several steps. Then he saw what she saw. The kitchen was a disaster—drawers and cupboards thrown open, pots and pans everywhere, broken dishes scattered across the tile. The back door had been rammed open and hung crookedly on one hinge, swaying slightly. And there was blood. Not much, but it was definitely blood.

Her parents were gone.

Sarah trembled, raised her hands to cover her mouth. But she didn’t make a sound. Michael ran into the backyard—a wide patio and a lawn with a few small trees—and looked around but didn’t see anyone. He went back in, found Sarah, tried to pulled her into his arms. But she resisted. Instead of being wet with tears, her face had reddened with anger.

“What …,” she started to say, but didn’t finish. Michael felt just as speechless.

He searched the kitchen for clues. On a granite island in the middle, in a clearing in the debris, lay Sarah’s father’s gun. It looked as if it had been placed there deliberately, on top of an envelope. The envelope seemed so foreign—people hardly used paper anymore. Michael was sure there was something horrible written inside; he just knew it.

“They left a note,” he whispered to Sarah.

“What?” she asked, understandably dazed. “Where?”

He pointed and she grabbed it.

It was as if they’d been shifted back into the Sleep, immersed in a VirtNet game. Sarah seemed to be moving in slow motion as she picked up the envelope, tore it open. Even the words of the NewsBop anchorwoman seemed warped as they echoed down the hallway. Michael’s vision blurred as he stared at Sarah’s hands, removing the message.

She unfolded the paper and scanned it quickly. Then she looked up at Michael, tears welling in her eyes.

“What does it say?” he heard himself ask. His voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel—it seemed barely louder than the anchorwoman’s. He couldn’t focus on anything, and there was an odd ringing in his ears.

Sarah had gone even paler. She looked down at the paper again and read the words aloud.

“This is your last warning. Never again doubt the consequences of disobedience. Obey, and they live. Disobey, and they die. Help me, Michael, and live forever.”

Michael’s heart sank. Now his problems had spilled over into Sarah’s life, jeopardizing her parents. Kaine was insane. He was totally, utterly insane. He’d taken—and probably hurt—Sarah’s parents just to prove he could. To ensure he’d get what he wanted.

But something was off. The NewsBop lady’s voice hit him in waves. It took a few moments until what she was saying finally sank in, a light piercing the fog of his jumbled mind.

“Oh no,” he whispered. “No.” How could everything have fallen apart so suddenly?

“What?” Sarah asked, the look on her face reflecting the terror Michael felt.

Without answering, Michael turned and left the kitchen, following the anchorwoman’s voice to the living room, where the HoloProj still broadcast its images onto the wall. He didn’t want Sarah to see, didn’t want what he’d heard to be true, but there just wasn’t a choice. Sarah was already beside him, staring at the screen.

A huge picture of Jackson Porter filled half the wall.

Jackson Porter. Also known as Michael.

Words scrawled across the bottom talking about a nationwide manhunt for the missing teenager, wanted for crimes
related to cyber-terrorism. A large monetary reward for anyone with information.

He turned to look at Sarah, and the look on her face broke his heart.

“I can explain.”

How many times had he heard someone say that in the movies? He might as well admit guilt. Sarah’s expression didn’t change. Michael figured he had ten seconds before she pulled up her NetScreen and called every official authorized to carry a gun within a hundred miles. Or worse, she might attack him herself.

“The Mortality Doctrine,” he said. “I was just about to tell you. It’s Kaine. He did this to me. To that kid, Jackson Porter.” He pointed at the wall, but the NewsBop had finally moved on to another story, mercifully removing his face from the enormous screen.

“What are you talking about?” Sarah responded. At least she’d stayed.

“Look …” He searched for the words to begin his story. “Can we sit?”

“My parents are
gone
!”

Michael knew he was about to lose her. “I know, I know.” He could see how upset she was and wanted to touch her, to connect with her somehow.

Before he could, though, she turned from him and walked away, reaching up to squeeze her EarCuff. Over her shoulder, she said, “For all I know, you distracted me so one of your buddies could kidnap them. Next you’ll be asking for ransom. I’m calling the cops.”

“I was a
Tangent
, Sarah.”

She stopped in the doorway. Her NetScreen hovered in front of her, illuminating the hallway with an eerie green glow. With a few swipes of her fingers she’d already reported her parents’ abduction. Hopefully,
just
the abduction. She had to do it; he knew that. But he also knew he couldn’t be around when the authorities showed up.

She finally faced him again. “Okay. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know that you’re Michael. You better go before the police arrest you. Obviously I won’t tell them you were here.”

Michael desperately wanted her to understand. “It’s what Kaine was doing. He lured Tangents to find him, setting it all up so he could find the best programs for his experiment. I think he even duped the VNS. I passed the test, and somehow he transferred my … whatever you wanna call it. He put me in the body of this guy. Jackson Porter. He killed him.
I
killed him, Sarah. I … stole him.”

Sarah was looking at the floor. A tear dropped from one eye. In the Sleep, she’d almost never cried.

“Kaine sent two guys to take me to some meeting, but I got away,” Michael continued when she didn’t respond. “This news report about Jackson might be a trap. Kaine setting me up. Or, hell, maybe Jackson really
is
a cyber-terrorist. I don’t know! I set up a fake ID and tried to come here without anyone knowing. But I’m sure Kaine assumed I’d search for you.”