MILA 2.0: Redemption (22 page)

I located the other four grant kids too.

There was Sharon, throwing punches in what appeared to be a street brawl with an invisible assailant. Her head whipped back and her grunt echoed off the walls.

Across the room, Claude and J.D. sprinted, Claude ducking behind an invisible wall, J.D. diving into a perfect somersault and regaining his feet, all in one fluid motion. Both of them held their right hands in front of their bodies. Then J.D. whirled, kicking out with his leg and extending his arm, his face a mask of panic. Claude swooped in behind him and executed a flying tackle . . . at thin air. He hit the
floor with a crash and a groan, but was back on his feet in seconds. Sometimes, they seemed to notice their surroundings. Claude would start to run, then slow and shake his head, as if dazed by where he was. J.D.’s kick would end halfheartedly, or he’d drop both hands to his sides.

Off on his own, Ben sat on the ground, occasionally curving his hands around an invisible steering wheel, but mostly just staring into space.

Abby mouthed something at me, her eyes wide.
“Drugs?”

I shook my head. I’d been thinking that at first, but not now. Not with this. This all looked too familiar. Almost like a video game.

My suspicions were confirmed when I spotted Mr. Grassi on an elevated platform behind a giant monitor. He wore a headset, his fingers flying across a keyboard. From his vantage point, he had a clear view of all the students, but not of us.

Zoom.

The monitor enlarged, and I could see there were five names arranged in a column:

Hannah

Claude

Sharon

J.D.

Ben

Beside each name was a score. Hannah’s was highest, by far. There was a big drop-off after that, with Claude coming in last.

I wasn’t interested in the scores, though. I wanted to see what these kids were seeing.

Access networks in range.

Several appeared, including the main one for the school. But only one caught my attention.

GVirtAff.

GVA: Grassi’s Virtual Afficionados.

I hijacked the network, and in an instant, my entire view changed. Instead of empty space, I saw threats, everywhere. Masked men with knives attacked Claude and J.D. Done with the wall, Hannah now hovered on a tight rope in bare feet, arms outstretched. Below her was a pit of sharp rocks. Behind her, a masked assassin. Sharon fought off a brawny man in a bedroom, with narrow eyes and an evil grin. Ben was inside an SUV, trying to evade another SUV with a gun pointing out the window.

“What?”
Hunter mouthed, when I grabbed the wall for support. These reminded me way too much of scenes from a different underground lair, below a building I’d once visited in Washington, DC. Grassi was using virtual reality on these kids . . . and it had Holland’s stamp all over it. When Hannah and J.D. talked about testing, I thought they were talking about schoolwork. Or SATs. Now I had a feeling this is what they meant.

Text app: Initiated.

Virtual reality. Soldier stuff. Stinks of Holland.

Before my team could respond, I gathered more data. I didn’t need my android functionality, as Grassi’s monitor was flashing numbers. Not scores, I saw, but vital signs.

Heart rate, respiration, blood pressure.

But how was Grassi getting the information? They had no monitors, no headsets. No pulse oximeters that I could see.

Despite the heat of the room, a chill ran through my body. I could monitor that kind of data remotely, but Grassi couldn’t. I doubted his headset would help much.

Unless these kids had some kind of monitoring device on the inside . . .

It was terrible to contemplate, but I knew I had to be right. I searched for the shadows of signals that had to exist.

Five appeared, one for every student.

Trace signal HANNAH005WTSN.

I’d known what to expect, but I had to stifle a gasp. My throat went desert dry. Before my eyes, thin bands of light appeared, like yellow-and-blue LED streamers. The disturbing part was that the lines led from Grassi’s console . . . straight to the back of each student’s neck.

Images flew into my head. The memory of me as Sarah, rubbing the nape of my neck and feeling an indentation there.

And then, back in Mr. Grassi’s classroom. I’d felt a zap in that same exact spot, and for a split second, my security
system had recognized something intrusive. Was someone trying to monitor my data just then? And, if so, who?

The horror spread from my throat through my entire body, until every fabricated muscle felt incapable of movement.

And then horror turned to fear when an alert notified Grassi of an unauthorized user. I mouthed one word to Abby and Hunter.

“Go.”

But I couldn’t leave until I knew for sure. While Grassi frowned down at his monitor and started switching off programs, releasing the kids from their electronic prisons one by one, I kept my focus on the spot where the network had connected to Hannah.

Zoom.

Her skin came into focus; with my enhanced vision, I could see the tiny hairs at the nape of her neck.

I could see an oversized freckle just below the base of her skull. I zoomed in on Ben, who was still sitting. He had an identical mark, in an identical spot. My stomach plummeted as my suspicions were confirmed.

They’d been implanted with chips. That’s how the virtual-reality platform was able to remain wireless. These kids—all of them—had undergone experimental surgery. And if they had, I guessed, so had Sarah.

A loud beep emitted from Grassi’s system. He half rose, lips parted in surprise. “Looks like someone’s trying to steal our juice. We need to shut down for the evening.”

They’d be leaving any second. Heading directly for me.

I backed away, hoping he was too engrossed in his system to notice. Once I got to the corner, I could race for the trapdoor.

I was almost there when my heel hit something. The object kicked up and smacked against the concrete.

Crack.

Grassi’s head whipped up. “Who’s there?”

With a stealthy exit now impossible, there was only one option left.

I turned and fled.

I ran the way we’d come, up the slight incline, after Hunter and Abby.

“Who has the flashlight? Hand it over!” Grassi’s voice followed me down the passageway, along with the
smack-smack-smack
of his footsteps. Luckily, I had no problem maneuvering in the dark.

Human threat detected: 30 ft.

I ran for the trapdoor, not daring to look over my shoulder. I couldn’t waste even a fraction of a second. Once they rounded that corner, and his flashlight caught me . . .

As I ran, my sensors analyzed Grassi’s position in relation to mine.

Based on current speed, escape without detection unlikely.

I yanked the hood of my sweatshirt up to hide my hair and sprinted.

The stairs leading up were empty, and the door at the top flung wide open. Hunter and Abby must have already made it up into the main room. I started up after them. The metal steps rocked and swayed as my sneakers slammed the metal rungs.

Just as my hand reached the top, I caught a flash of light bouncing off the wall in front of me.

“This building is off-limits. If you don’t stop now, you’ll be expelled!”

My body jolted at the sound of Grassi’s voice, but I didn’t hesitate. I bolted through the opening, slamming the door shut the moment I was on firm ground.

Not that there was any way to lock it.

The others were congregated by the outside door, staring at me in horror.

“Run!” I urged.

Samuel yanked it open and we darted outside.

“Now what? There’s no way we can get back to the dorm before they spot us,” Samuel said.

“Go,” I whispered, waving them on. “I have an idea.”

I turned to the security camera, knowing I had only moments to spare. I wasted several of those moments signing in and waiting for the retinal scan. I heard the clatter of the trapdoor being thrown open.

We were almost out of time.

With one last breath, I communicated with the system,
running data until I found what I needed. A thing that I hadn’t been sure existed, until this very moment.

Initiate emergency lockdown.

Processing request . . .

I backed away, urging the system to hurry. The footsteps inside were almost to the door.

I took two more steps back. I hadn’t been quick enough.

Request granted.

Lockdown commencing.

Had it worked?

I heard the snap of a lock bolting into place, a second before there was pounding on the door.

“What the hell?” That was Grassi’s angry voice, signaling that they were locked inside. For now.

I didn’t know how long it would take Grassi to reverse the lockdown. Minutes at most, I figured. That gave us just enough time to get back up to our dorm rooms unnoticed.

Only if Grassi didn’t call security first.

Up ahead, the others were just reaching the dorms. Samuel ushered Hunter and Abby inside, but waited for me, gesturing frantically with his hand.

Hurry.

I sprinted until the cold air blew back my hood. I snatched it back with one hand, without decreasing my speed.

When I was a few feet away, I waved Samuel on, catching the door when he complied.

“Faster,” I told Samuel. We all needed to be back in our rooms and our beds. I rushed inside behind him, then reconnected the alarm to the system.

Abby was still in the stairwell. I grabbed her hand and pulled her up behind me. When we reached the hall, we speed-walked toward our rooms.

I tore open Hannah’s door, dumping my shoes in her closet. My change into pajamas was performed in record time, and then I went right for the bed, throwing back the covers and climbing in. My heart continued its racing beat for another ten seconds while I waited. And listened. I had no idea how Grassi would proceed from here. Would there be a check on all the students? Would they suspect students, or would they think it was an outside job? Would Grassi call the police? No, not unless he wanted to expose his secret project.

My heart continued its frantic beat but the pace gradually slowed as the minutes ticked by. That was when I could finally start to make sense of what I saw.

No wonder the grant students were tired. No wonder they were taking drugs. They worked all day and trained all night in a terrifying virtual reality, directed by an adult who was supposed to be their teacher. Their friend. All trust had to be ruined by now, as he put them through dangerous simulations and monitored their progress by embedding chips in their bodies.

Why these kids? Why Grassi? Why Sarah?

Those questions still plagued me. But I did have one answer, or the beginning of an answer.

Holland had lured these exceptional students to Montford with the Watson Grants. But their scholarships came with a steep price. Along with regular classes, they had to go through high-tech military training, and why was that? It had to be because he was molding the grant kids into some kind of new and deadly soldier.

What war would they be fighting? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. But we’d have to find the answers before we left this campus. It was the only way to save this group of kids. We owed that much to Sarah.

You safe?

I texted Hunter, Abby, and Samuel.

The responses blipped in, one after another:

All clear
, from Abby

10-4
, from Hunter

If I don’t die from this agonizing side cramp, then yes
, from Samuel.
But that was way too close for comfort.

That was scary
, from Abby.
Are you going to tell us what the hell was going on back there?

For an instant, confusion clouded my brain. Then I realized. She couldn’t see—not the way I could. None of them had the luxury of my android sensors.

I told them what I’d witnessed. I told them what I’d made of it.

For several seconds, there were no responses. I wondered if the texting app had malfunctioned. As I prepared to run a check, Samuel replied.

As horrifying as that is, at least it makes sense. I was starting to wonder if they were all on a bad mushroom trip.

They would wait to hear from me before they did anything else.

My next step was to check in with Lucas, and I was surprised when a second voice joined our conversation.

It’s Daniel. Lucas is letting me use his audio connection. We’re both listening in. Tell us what happened.

I started with our close call with Grassi, and Daniel responded.

Is there any chance he saw you?

He may have seen the bottoms of my legs and shoes. I ditched the shoes. The jeans could have belonged to anyone.

Daniel muttered a curse.

You know this means heightened security. I think we need to pull you out.

I hesitated, but only for a second.

No. We’ll just have to be extra cautious. We only have a day left at Montford. Even if they could track something down that led to us, it would take time. We’ll be gone by then.

I don’t know, Mila. It sounds incredibly risky.

It’s always been incredibly risky. Look at Lucas—he left his job with Holland’s company, and now Holland knows he’s missing. We have a good chance—possibly our only chance—to bring Holland down. To stop what he’s doing. To give those kids their lives back. We can’t give up now, not when we’re so close. What would Sarah want us to do?

Silence greeted me. And then Daniel’s sigh of defeat.

Tell us what you learned.

I started from the beginning. The virtual-reality room. The testing. The scoring. The chips.

I heard Daniel inhale sharply.
Chips? You sure?

I only saw Grassi using them to monitor the kids’ vital signs. But there’s no reason he couldn’t also use the chips to control them. Force them to act against their will. With those implants, the sky’s the limit.

Daniel and Lucas both went silent. They knew as well as I did how dangerous a weapon these kids could be in Holland’s hands. He had planted a bomb inside me, and with it he could wreak terror wherever he chose—but only once. With total control over J.D. and Hannah, Ben and Claude and Sharon—trained fighters—he could do so much more. It could be so much worse.