The Rule of Thoughts (9 page)

“You need to go,” Sarah said.

“What?” Michael couldn’t imagine leaving. He needed Sarah. “But we have to talk.”

She moved toward him, reached out and clasped his arm, squeezed.

“Let’s hope Kaine found us only because he knew you’d come
here
,” she said. “Not because he’s cracked your identity. But you
have
to go. Find a safe place. Let me know where you are somehow. I’ll find you, then we’ll find Bryson.”

“Okay.” She was going to help him. His eyes welled up in relief.

A few seconds later he was running down the street, darkness falling on the world as the sun sank for the night. He didn’t know if Sarah even realized what she’d been saying, but Michael had heard it just the same.

Because of him, her parents were gone. Maybe dead.

He ran until he could barely catch his breath, through neighborhoods and empty streets, until he reached the outskirts of the city. When at last it seemed he might collapse from exhaustion, he stopped. Bending over, he pulled air into his lungs, willing his heart to slow down. He wasn’t sure what he’d been running from: the police, Kaine, or the truth about what he’d brought down on Sarah and her family.

Night had swamped the world now, but he couldn’t imagine sleeping ever again. The threat of dreaming—seeing images of Sarah’s parents tied up in the back of some car, the spray of blood on the kitchen floor—terrified him. How
much blood had he seen in his many years of gaming? None of it had prepared him for the real thing.

He found a cab, made it back to his hotel. Then thought better of it and
changed
hotels. Just in case Kaine had figured out his fake identity, Michael decided to start all over. And this time, he tried harder. He dug deep, pulling programs down behind him and picking apart others to cover his tracks. Firewalls and triple-protection Hider codes, anything and everything he could think of.

It took him all night. He finally fell asleep when the first rays of dawn glowed behind the curtains. Later, sometime in the afternoon, a knock at the door woke him up. Inexplicably thinking that somehow Sarah had found him already, he bolted from the bed and ripped open the door before even taking a look through the peephole.

Stunned, sure he was still dreaming, he stared at his visitor.

Dark skin, dark hair, pretty.

“You never should’ve called me Gabriela,” she said. “That’s when I knew something was wrong. Very wrong.”

Michael had been through a lot, but he was pretty sure he’d never been quite as speechless as he was at that second. As he stared at Gabriela, his mouth literally dropped open.

“Just let me in,” she said, her face stern but not unkind. “I have no idea what’s going on, but I think I deserve some answers.”

“Um, yeah,” Michael replied. Dazed, he stepped back and pulled the door open wider. “I guess I can’t run away this time. It’s my hotel room, after all.”

She smiled, but her eyes revealed the truth: she hadn’t liked that stunt in the city too much. “Thanks.” She stepped inside and took a seat on the little couch next to the kitchenette, leaning back and crossing her legs like she owned the place.

Michael looked away, into the hall, as if something out there would give him a hint on how to proceed. Nothing but
ugly patterned carpet and drab walls awaited, so he closed the door and turned to face his new nemesis: his girlfriend.

He grabbed a chair and dragged it over, the long scrape of wood against linoleum cutting into the awkward silence. He took a seat and waited. Gabriela still hadn’t said anything. He put his hands in his lap and stared at them. He felt like he was ten, about to receive a punishment from his mother.

“Well?” she finally prodded. “Go ahead. Talk. You know how to do that, right?”

Michael looked up at her. “There’s no way I could possibly explain to you what’s going on. Trust me. Even if I did, you’d never believe it.”

“All I know is that you have never, not once, called me Gabriela. Until I finally tracked you down in the city.” She leaned forward, something like pleading in her expression. “It’s
always
been Gabby. And you were acting totally normal the last time I saw you, all Mr.
I love you, Gabby; kiss me, Gabby; stay one more hour, Gabby
. Now it’s like you don’t even know me. I can see it. You’re not looking at me. You’re looking at a stranger.”

Michael shrugged. “That’s one hundred percent true.”

“Then explain it to me! What’s going on? I know you too well to think this is some ploy to break up with me. Did you get hit in the head?”

A laugh burst from Michael’s chest, and he had no idea why. He rubbed his face with both hands, took a deep breath, and looked Gabriela in the eye. “Listen. I’m not … Oh man. This is crazy. I can’t do this.”

“You can. Or I’ll call the cops.”

“The cops? Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I saw on the NewsBops that you’re a cyber-terrorist?”

This time Michael started laughing and couldn’t stop. He was going certifiably insane.

“Not funny,” Gabriela said coolly. “Not even remotely.” Michael composed himself. “I know. I know. Look, something’s happened that if I explain it, it’ll sound crazy. It deals with the Sleep, and Tangents, and artificial intelligence, and all kinds of mucked-up stuff.”

Gabriela threw her hands up and leaned back into the couch. “God, if I hadn’t spent the last year falling in love with you, I would smash you in the—”

“Okay, fine!” Michael yelled. “You want the truth? Here’s the truth: My name is Michael. I was a Tangent—completely programmed. But I thought I was real. And somehow my intelligence was
downloaded
into the brain of Jackson Porter.
Your
boyfriend. What happened to him, I have no idea. But he’s not up here anymore.” He tapped his left temple. “
I
am. I’ve got the body of Jackson Porter and the mind of someone else. There, that’s it. That’s the truth.”

Gabriela’s face had frozen, her lower lip trembling—Michael couldn’t tell if it was out of sadness or anger. Her expression changed several times, remaining impossible to read. The moment stretched out as she stared him down with those piercing dark eyes. Then she stood up.

“Just how …,” she began, then stopped. She pinched the bridge of her nose, took a deep breath. “Just how stupid do you think I am? How can you … how can you be such a coward to lie to me like this? I’m not going to sit here and beg for the truth. I can’t believe I risked being grounded for
the rest of my life to come chasing you. Good. Bye. You need serious help.”

She gave him a long, sad look, but try as he might, he couldn’t find a response. Mostly, he just wanted her to walk out the door and never come back. But then, a part of him …

“Have a nice life, Jax,” she said, so calmly that it stung. “You want to act all crazy—run and hide, pretend whatever—fine. I’ll be there for you when you finally see a doctor and get some meds.” She shook her head and walked toward the door. “I need to go to Atlanta to see my dad. He’s sick, and I thought you would care, but just forget it.”

Michael was suddenly on his feet. “Wait! Just … wait.”

She turned and looked at him, her expression blank.

“How could I possibly make that story up?” he asked. “You … you even said when you came here … that you could tell I wasn’t Jackson.”

She laughed bitterly. “I meant that, I don’t know, metaphorically, for God’s sake. Something is
wrong
with you. You’re
not
the Jax I know. You really expect me to believe someone switched your brain with someone else’s? How can you even go there when my dad …” She stopped and whipped around, opened the door.

“Your dad what?” Michael shouted.

She didn’t answer, stepped out into the hallway. Started pulling the door shut.

“Your dad what?” Michael yelled again.

But the door slammed so hard it shook the room, and she was gone.

He thought about chasing her, but how could he? As guilty as he was of hurting Gabriela, how could he possibly put that ahead of finding his friends? He needed to figure out his own life. Get back into the Sleep. Find out if his family still existed in the artificial world.

He remembered why he was in that hotel in the first place. In another city.

For Sarah.

She came to him two days later.

It was an excruciating wait. He almost went crazy, but he was too nervous to leave, and he didn’t want to enter the Sleep until Sarah could do it with him. Especially since the three-day ultimatum from Kaine’s messenger on the train—the lady who’d jumped to her death—came and went as he hid in anonymity.

He sent Sarah several encrypted messages during the wait, using a trail of clues about places they’d been in the VirtNet to lead her to his new hotel. Then he paced his room, trying not to worry that she’d decided not to come. Or that something had happened to her. Or that Kaine had caught up with them. Sarah would have to take care of things with the police, deal with family—not to mention how insanely upset she must have been. But his stomach didn’t care about all that. Until she knocked on his door, he was sick.

And then there she was.

“I’m really sorry, Sarah.”

It was all he could say. He sat on the edge of the bed, she
on the chair by the desk. They’d shared a long, silent hug, and once he did speak, the words felt laughably inadequate.

“Michael …” She paused, and he suddenly wished she wouldn’t say anything. He wished he’d never gone to look for her, though he couldn’t imagine what he’d do without her.

“Look,” she said. “I have to believe my parents are alive. And, well … and that the police will find them. I have to. Plus … our lives got flushed a long time before this happened. It’s not your fault.”

Michael burst out in a huge laugh before he could stop himself. “Yeah, right. It’s
totally
my fault! I’m the one who dragged you and Bryson into this mess.”

Sarah let out a grunt of frustration. “That’s exactly the opposite of the point I’m trying to make. Bryson and I could’ve easily said no. We could’ve run away. We didn’t have to follow you onto the Path. It was our choice, and I don’t want to hear you blame yourself again. Especially about my parents. Kaine probably would’ve come after me and my family eventually. I know way too much. Michael, you’re my best friend, end of story. I’m part of this.”