CODE RED
Sara
Chris paces, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The room closes in around us.
“Did he do it?” I ask, swallowing hard.
He looks at me, eyes dark, and shakes his head. The anger in his face makes me believe he’s furious with me. How dare he?
“Where’s your duffel?” he rasps.
“Upstairs. I already packed it.” When I accidentally knocked over the bedside lamp, a bead-sized black eye stared at me from the nightstand—the camera I always knew was in there somewhere. Doesn’t matter now.
I spent the afternoon unraveling. Again.
I’ve lost so much already, I should be used to it.
But I’m not. Despite everything, no one deserves to die like that.
Not even him. If Chris told the truth about this Board, maybe my dad just wanted to protect me.
But was it the truth? I don’t know what to believe anymore.
I pick through the shards of my life, trying to arrange them into a shape that doesn’t slice me open.
I never heard anyone mention a Board—not when I was supposed to be listening.
Anger coils under my ribs when I think of Gabe and all the shit I thought I had put him through.
Except I didn’t. I never got him into trouble.
He wasn’t protecting me, he was keeping a lid on me.
That’s why things felt off when I walked in on them the week before Chris took me.
I almost laugh at myself for worrying Gabe had been fired.
He probably threatened to kill me if my father didn’t get me in line.
Dad tried. I made it worse. Oh my God, this is my fault.
I should have noticed. I was too busy hating my father, too busy lost in my own darkness.
I didn’t really see him either, and now I never will again.
Chris takes the stairs two at a time. I follow, heart racing, not knowing what is happening. He tears open my duffel, flinging clothes across the bed.
“Hey!” I yell as he rifles through my things.
He throws my mother’s hoodie at me. “Hold on to this.”
My hand shoots out, snatching it from the air before I can even process the movement. Then I just stand there, wide eyed like a deer in high beams.
What is he looking for? He plunges into the empty bag, fingers scraping the lining. A zipper. A tear. He is shredding it apart.
A metallic clink fractures the hush. My gut already knows it’s bad, even before I can make out what’s on the floor.
He bends down and lifts a shiny, round metal piece between his fingers. It is no bigger than a coin, a delicate seam circling its edge.
“What is that?” I ask, the words thin.
“A tracker,” he says flatly, as if he’s already blaming himself. He runs a hand through his hair. “Dammit.”
There’s a coldness in him now. It scares me.
“Why the hell is there a tracker in my bag?” My worry blooms into panic.
He sits on the bed amid the mess of clothes. “Did your father pack it?” His voice is taut with the effort to make sense of it all.
“No. I packed it when I went to my grandparents. Gabe took it when he brought me back and gave it to my father. I assumed he handed it to you.”
We stare at each other. My stomach drops. “Gabe did this,” I whisper, already knowing.
“Adds up,” Chris says. “If Mendoza and Gabe work together for the Board, they might have conspired against your father. Get you out of the way, win the election, Mendoza takes over.”
“Philip?” How could his best friend betray him like that? My father’s smart. He would’ve seen it coming. Unless trust made him miss it. The idea feels dangerously familiar.
“But why the tracker?” My voice trembles. How would Chris even know there is one? All of this is heading somewhere I don’t want to go.
“We need to get out of here.” He grabs my wrist and pulls.
I yank free. “No. What’s happening? Talk to me!”
“Mendoza is the one who set me up with Whitmore.” Urgency flickers across his eyes. “We’re loose ends, Sara. They know where we are. They knew all along. It was never only about securing the election. It was about getting rid of your father and you along with him.”
His phone vibrates. He glances at the screen once. “We need to leave. NOW.”
He swipes across the display and every light in the cabin dies at once, leaving only the faint glow of the fire in the hearth.
Shadows swallow the room.
“Come on.”
We dash downstairs and stop short at the bottom. Engines roar close enough to hear.
We slip through the kitchen and out the back door. On the way, Chris rips open a cabinet and drags out a duffel. His muscles bunch under the weight. Whatever’s in there, it’s heavy.
Outside, he steers me past his van toward the trees. The phone’s display paints a pale path through the thicket, our breath loud in the dark. A few steps in, he drops behind a fallen log and opens the bag.
“Put this on.”
He hands me a thick vest. My guess is it’s bulletproof. It’s heavier than I expect, the reality finally settling on my chest. I shove my arms through as fast as I can.
Next, he straps on a belt loaded with gear. The metal of a large knife and a pistol reflects what little light there is. Oh my God, are those grenades next to them? My stomach twists.
He reaches in again and whips out a gun, a Glock. He checks the chamber and holds it out to me. “You remember how to use this?”
I nod, throat tight.
“You aim to shoot.” He places it in my hands without waiting for my reaction. The gun pulls at my grip, its weight more present than yesterday.
Chris slings a rifle over his back and keeps another gun in his grip.
Goggles slide down over his eyes before he kills the glow of his phone.
Now the only light is the low flicker from the cabin windows.
Clouds smother the sky, blotting out the moonlight.
The forest is black, soundless except for the approaching vehicles.
Twigs crack and gravel crunches under tires.
The headlights are off. The drivers must be wearing the same kind of headset Chris has. Otherwise they wouldn’t see a thing.
They stop. Doors open. Footsteps, many of them, fan out. My heart hammers so loud I’m sure they can hear it.
“Go, go, go!” The command cuts through the night.
They storm the cabin. Heavy boots thunder inside.
Chris’s eyes are on me. He pushes me flat against the ground. “Stay down,” he orders. “Cover your ears.”
I obey before I even think, eyes locked on his dimly lit face as he flips his goggles up and reaches for his phone again. He swallows once and takes a deep breath. His finger hits the screen.
I don’t know if I scream or not. All I know is the ground jumps and the world goes sideways.
This isn't over. The danger continues in 2027.