Incarceration

Chapter Twenty-One

"Get up!" The harsh voice cuts through the walls and my eyes flick open. There's a banging on the glass and rolling over I can make out the indistinct outline of a guard peering in at me.

"Get up!" he says again, banging harder.

No. Just go away. Leave me alone.

"Hey!" There's a second voice now. "He said get up!"

I groan, roll out of bed, and drag my way to the door, wincing in pain.

"Where are we going?" I ask weakly as I'm shoved down the hall.

"Game Control," he grunts.

Game Control? Did he really say Game Control? It worked! My heart fills with relief and excitement. Use the code, I remember. But for what? To escape? To help Wyatt?

I'm shoved into the familiar desk in front of the monitor. For the first time, I'm excited to see it. Use the code. I repeat in my head. Thomas walks away as the first prisoner steps into the room. I quickly minimize the viewing window to find a desktop full of unknown folders, each labeled with a letter A-Z. Every folder has lists of files, each with a name. Lucas Sanders, Emily Wall, Esther Lin. Are these prisoners? Where do I even start?

I decide to start in the right corner, opening each folder and clicking on the files one by one. At first, I don't know what I'm looking at. The files are full of seemingly random combinations of letters, numbers, and symbols. I keep clicking different files, hoping one would produce some kind of answer, but each results in pages and pages of gibberish. I stare at the screen, unable to comprehend the meaning of anything. Is this code? It doesn't look like computer code. Maybe "code" doesn't mean computer code. Could I be wrong?

I frantically search through the files. No. There has to be something here. There has to be! File after file after file results in the same page of nonsense. How is this possible? I begin to sweat, growing angry with frustration.

When I get to the folder labeled M, clicking it reveals a list of files. Lithia Madison, Janet Marks, Harriet Maxwell. Harriet Maxwell? My heart begins to race. This is what the note must be talking about.

I click on the file. Nothing. It produces the same document full of nonsense. Dammit.

"Maxwell!" Thomas calls me from across the room. I jump and quickly open the viewer again.

"Yeah?" I call back, palms beginning to sweat and eyes glued to the screen.

"Time's up. Let's go!"

I relax and get up. Frustrated, I return to my cell.

Iker, Amara, and Royce spot me before I spot them and when I do, I can see them talking excitedly to each other and motioning me over to sit with them. I take the empty seat and am immediately hounded with questions.

"Where were you?" Amara blurts out as soon as my butt touches the chair.

"What happened with the computers?" Iker leans in.

"Did you get stabbed?" Royce asks dully.

I shake my head. "It's nothing big. I just got hurt." I shrug it off.

"Again?" Iker asks, amazed. "How bad?"

"Not too bad," I lie. "I got my temp job back, so I don't have to play for a couple more weeks. That's a plus."

"I wish they'd let me out of the game," Iker pushes the peas around on his plate drearily.

"How's the job?" Amara quickly cuts in.

"Frustrating," I say. I explain about the files. "I know there has to be something on there. Something worth knowing," I tell them, exasperated.

Iker looks up from his meal. "They're encrypted."

"What did you say?" I look back at him.

"Wait, Iker," Royce begins. "Max, are you trying to break out or something? What's with all the snooping?"

A knot catches in my throat. I know I can trust them but I don't know if I can take them.

"Yes," I say, slowly and hesitantly.

"You have to take us," Amara pleads. "Max, please."

No. Please don't ask me that.

"I don't even know if I can get myself out yet," I say, beginning to sweat. "I'm trying, but I still haven't found anything."

"We can help you," Royce says calmly. "If you're saying there's a way out using some sort of technology, Iker and I are your best shot figuring it out."

"You?" I ask, surprised.

"He may be software," Royce explains, "but I'm hardware. Trust me, if getting out involves anything in Game Control, you need us."

I knew they were right. Do I tell them about Wyatt? I decide against it—for now, it's not important.

"Okay," I say. "You guys are in."

"Great." Royce leans back in her chair. "Okay, Iker, explain the encryption thing."

"It's a way to hide files," he says, "so no one accessing the computer can read them."

"How do I get by it?" I ask.

"You need the password," he mumbles through a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

My heart skips a beat. "Would it be like a string of numbers?"

"Could be."

4435982. The numbers pop into my head at once.

"You know the password?" he asks.

"Yeah, I might," I say, now lost in thought.