Elevated (Book 1): Elevated (16 page)

“Based on the department headers, he’s on the fourth floor,” Aaron whispers. “Or, at least, he would be. Have you heard from Zach?”

Shaking my head, I instinctively pull out my phone and check for texts. Nothing.

“Don’t know why we trusted him,” Aaron whispers.

“It was his idea.”

“That makes it worse.”

The tour guide finishes his story on the atrium design and ushers us towards the elevators. My head snaps around when I catch a blond man with wiry hair running out of one the elevators. Maddock talks on his phone. “Heading to Basic Cuisine right now. Keep them entertained.”

Zach’s plan is working. It should buy us an hour at least. Now we only have to sneak into Maddock’s office. Of course, that doesn’t sound easy even in my head.

We keep waiting for an opening to sneak off, but this tour runs like clockwork. With such a big building to see, the guide keeps everyone at a brisk pace. I get excited when we’re lead into a room set up like a movie theater, before I notice that he plans to stand by the only exit.

The film presentation is a horror show of footage of Unsounds, back before GEMO technology was tightly controlled. Private businesses had to register to run GEMO, but many cut corners and didn’t document everything. Some sent Elevateds out into the world without making sure their powers were safe. Chaos reigns as the video shows us the carnage from Silencers, Bursters, and Disintegraters. It’s a miracle the world wasn’t destroyed.

“And this is progress,” Aaron whispers.

The video then shows the progress of laws leading to the Elevation Day bill, which allows every citizen the equal right to the treatment in their 17th year. To keep us safe, Unsounds now live far away in isolation. Don’t I know it.

The lights turn on and the doors open into an exit hallway containing a display of names. It’s a list of all the Unsounds the government has captured, probably around 500. Above them is an etching of the words “Prevented Chaos.” Each name has a plaque with the date of the GEMO treatment and their current location. Most dwell in the Ruby Ward, the largest living facility for Unsounds. Few pictures exist of any of the wards, since most people don’t care about the living conditions of the Unsounds.

“I love how they call them wards and living facilities,” Aaron says. “Sounds better than prisons doesn’t it?”

“They aren’t prisons,” Shelly says. “I visited one once. Nice digs. Oh, and they have great food. Especially compared to school.”

“Your dad visited a ward?” Aaron asks.

“He wanted to visit someone he knew. Old friend. Dad was beyond mad when he turned out to be an Unsound.”

I jerk my head around. “You were allowed to visit an Unsound?”

“Her dad’s in politics,” Aaron says. “He can probably do whatever he wants. Which facility?”

“Topaz Ward.”

Aaron smiles. “Ah, that explains it. The snooty one. The Unsounds placed in there only exhibit minor problems. Some even make it out after good behavior for a while. They don’t want them developing any negative opinions of the system.”

“Or maybe,” Shelly says, “the system isn’t that bad.”

While Aaron rants, I search the W’s. Dad’s name is missing.

My finger points where it should be. “My dad isn’t here.”

“Bet they remove them to be respectful after they die,” Shelly says.

“Respectful my shoe,” Aaron says. “This is like a hunter displaying his animal heads on a wall.”

The tour guide speaks up. I’m worried he heard Aaron’s remark. “We’ll be taking a short restroom break. Women’s is up ahead to the left, men’s is on the right.”

This could be our chance, if only he—

“He’s going in,” I say and pull Aaron and Shelly into a quick huddle. “If Aaron stands outside the women’s restroom, he can say we went in. And we can go to Maddock’s office.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” Aaron asks.

“Stall him for a while,” I say. “He’s not going to enter a women’s restroom.”

“Dumb plan,” Aaron says.

I raise my hand, emphasizing each of my words. “We don’t have time.”

Aaron grimaces. That’s the best response we’re going to get. Shelly and I dash towards the stairs to head up to the fourth floor.

“And what do we do when we get to his office?” Shelly asks.

I don’t want to worry her. “I’ve got a plan.”

Deep inside though, I haven’t the faintest clue.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

My lungs ache by the time we get to the top of the staircase. Shelly’s right behind, panting with every step. We get to the door at the end of the stairwell and I stop short. I hold out my arm to stop Shelly from opening it.

“What are you doing?” she says through labored breath.

I scan the outside with my sonar. No one approaches. My arm reaches out to grab the door and we step onto a walkway overlooking the atrium. From here, you can tell that the pavement beneath the fountains and sculpture form a beautiful mosaic depicting the double helix of a strand of DNA. It distracts me for a moment before I remember what we came here to find. I search for a sign or something to direct us to the GEMO Control Wing.

“There it is.” Shelly points to the sign.

My heart skips a few beats. We’re inches away now, closing in on the door. But to the side of it lies a keypad. We’re locked out for sure.

An elevator ding signals another person arriving on the floor. I scan the hall to find a man approaching us from behind. As fast as I can, I pull Shelly into a narrow hallway. We crouch down on the other side of the wall. Leaning back, my breaths come fast now. Hopefully he didn’t see us. A couple of a teenagers roaming around the halls of the GEMO Control Wing would draw suspicion for sure. Shelly starts to lean out, trying to peek around the corner. I grab her shirt and tug her back down. Knowing Shelly’s personality, my hands cover her mouth for good measure.

With a scan, I sense the man moving down the hallway and approaching the door. He moves his hand over to the keypad and I intently scrutinize to his every motion. The keypad is a series of buttons in a three by three grid. If I had only gotten a better glimpse, I would know the number configuration. He pushes bottom middle twice, far upper right once, middle row far left once. The door unlocks. I force my brain to memorize the combination. He walks down the hallway on the other side of the wall and then turns, closing a door behind him. Now’s our chance.

After a quick scan to check that the coast is clear, I pull Shelly around again, and dash over to the keypad.

8-8-3-4.

The door unlocks.

Shelly is stunned. “How did you—”

I silence her with my finger and open the door. On the other side is a long hallway leading to another door. I scan the other side and can tell it will split in two directions, leading to individual offices. Thankfully, I don’t see anyone. We get to the end of the hallway and I stop again to quickly scan. In the first office on our right, a woman sits behind a desk. But she’s behind a closed door, so that’s ok. A small seating area is off to the left with a little kitchen. Also empty.

“What are you doing?” Shelly whispers as she watches me.

I come up with the best excuse I can on the fly. “Sorry, a little nervous.”

I can’t stall much longer. We go through the door and into the main office. As we head down the hallway of offices, I keep scanning. Everyone is busy at their computers. I try to find an empty office. There’s one up on our left. I point towards the placard next to the door.

Maddock Steele.

Even without the name, it would be obvious that it’s his office. It has the same disheveled appearance as his home. Papers cover his monstrous desk, which threatens to swallow the room whole. GEMO motivational posters fill his walls. I jostle his mouse, trying to wake his computer. A password screen comes up.

“It was worth a try,” I whisper.

“Yeah, the government is password obsessed. Drives my dad crazy. He’s got a laptop from them and he has to put sticky notes around the house because they make them change their password every four months.”

Shelly’s comment gives me a thought. Glancing on his desk, I see a sticky note with the number “4010” written on it. I type it in. Nope.

“He’s not going to leave that around his desk,” Shelly whispers.

“Wait.”

I pull out my phone and flip through the pictures I took of his office at home. One picture has a sticky note in the lower corner that reads “NeUtr0n.” I type it in. The computer loads up.

“What a moron,” she says. “Leaving passwords around.”

“What are the chances we’d break into his house?”

The monitor displays icons for a dozen programs, none of them familiar except for one for e-mail. A mouse click opens it up and I scroll to find a search bar. I type in my father’s name. The screen refreshes and I click on the first result:

I appreciate your concern, but I want it clear that I have no intention on releasing the results of my study based on the findings of Adam Williams. Your department’s unwillingness to see the plain evidence of patterns existing among patients subjected to GEMO radiation is inexcusable. Research must be funded and continued in this field. Lives are at stake.

-Jason

My mind takes a minute to catch up with what I read. Was the Jason in the message Jason Wesson? Not sure how the inventor of GEMO radiation could have used my father’s findings. My dad was just a high school science teacher. Not an inventor.

A click of the mouse opens the next e-mail:

I’ve done a full background check on Adam Williams. As far as we can tell, he has no criminal background and would be acceptable within your department.

-Maddock

My father worked within GEMO radiation? Why didn’t my mother ever tell me? My answer comes when I read the top of the e-mail and the date. It’s two months after we were told his GEMO treatment made him an Unsound. Everything has been a lie.

Shelly leans on a stack of papers. It can’t take her weight and spills onto the floor with a loud crash. My body lurches and I scan to see someone coming towards the door. I pull Shelly down to the ground and underneath the desk.

The door opens. From the shadow, it’s a short woman with curly hair. She takes a few steps into the room, and looks over at the pile. We sit right out of her line of sight. My legs tighten up, willing her not to walk around the desk. Shelly shakes next to me. The woman shrugs and leaves the room. We both let out a long sigh and stay there for a minute. I scan the nearby rooms and hallway and find no more activity nearby.

Shelly gets up first and snatches the mouse. As I reach over to take it back, she grabs my hand and throws it back towards me.

“Stop me, and I’ll leak out your unregistered ability.” Even in a whisper, it’s a clear threat. “The reward money would sure buy a fabulous birthday party.”

My fists clench and my mouth shuts.

She types in her name. Thankfully, there’s only one result. The e-mail pops up on the window.

Unsound Mitigation Report:

Shelly Steele

Risk Factor: 98.23%

Recommended: Avoidance

“Have you heard of the Unsound Mitigation Report?” she asks.

I shake my head.

She minimizes the program, and I start to protest before remembering her threat. She clicks the mouse on a program listed as ‘Reports.’ When it opens, it’s a convoluted mess of windows and information.

“I hate government software,” she says.

Windows rapidly open and close, and messages scroll past in flashes as she frantically hunts for any information related to her. All I can think about right now is that minimized e-mail program and how much I hate her. A coffee mug on the table strikes me as the perfect tool to knock her out. My senses snap me back to reality.

“Shelly, no time,” I plead.

Shelly ignores me. “I need to know.”

I reach my hand over to the mouse. “Don’t I have a right—”

Shelly stares at me with cold eyes. “A right to what, his dead body? He’s dead, Rose.”

“It could be a lie. Everything else is. Please, Shelly. It’s my dad.” My eyes tear up, and I urge to push the tears out. I want her to see how much I’m suffering. There’s a heart within her. At least, I hope so.

Her face softens and she releases the mouse. Opening the e-mail program back up, I scan through the e-mails, hoping to find something with more substance. Most of the subject lines involve research and findings.

My pocket vibrates. Ignoring it, I click on a message labeled “Sad news.”

“Your phone,” Shelly says.

The vibration continues. A message pops up on the monitor.

It is my difficult responsibility to report that, on the eve of Jason Wesson’s tragic accident, another one has arisen. It has come to our attention that Adam has been compromised.

 Shelly’s hand snatches the phone out of my pocket, causing me to jump back. I keep reading.

Jason hid Adam’s abilities, which meet the standards for the Unsound Act.

“We gotta go, now. The tour guide knows we aren’t in the bathroom,” Shelly says.

I’ve taken it upon myself to bring him into custody and—

Before I can react, the message closes. Shelly had grabbed the mouse and now she’s shutting down the computer.

It takes a strong amount of will power not to knock her to the ground. “What are you—”

“We won’t be any good to your father if we get caught.”

Huffing in place, I quickly realize she is right. We dash out the office before I have a chance to scan, but thankfully no one is coming. We exit the hallway through the door to the atrium. Scanning ahead, I realize there’s another man coming our way. Grabbing Shelly, I start to backtrack before catching that there’s also a woman on the other side of the door behind us. We’re trapped.

“There’s someone ahead,” I say.

“Let me handle this,” Shelly says.

The door opens and the tall man stares at us in shock.

“Excuse me, sir?” Shelly says. “Do you think you could be so kind as to help us find our tour?”