Code

CHAPTER 54

“BEN, YOU AND Shelton slip around back. Get a look through that window.”

I gathered my sopping hair into a ponytail. The wind and rain had doubled in intensity. Trash and bits of debris were cartwheeling down the street, rising and spiraling, then dropping only to lift back up again. Bottles and bags began shooting along the gutters.

Our grace period was over. We were caught in a full-blown hurricane.

Huddled beside the grocery, we formed a game plan. Coop’s eyes were white and round with fear. I held his collar so he couldn’t dart away.

“Why do I have to scout?” Shelton whined. “I suck at sneaking up on people!”

Ben backhanded rain from his face. “I thought you said no splitting up?” His thick black hair was pasted to his scalp.

“Just this once, and only for a few seconds. We can’t let the Gamemaster spot us all together. We’d lose any element of surprise.”

“Can we flare?” Hi was red-faced and breathing hard. “We need to be ready.”

I hesitated. What if the Gamemaster wasn’t home?

Then this whole adventure was pointless.

“We need to be sure he’s in there,” Ben said. “We only get one shot.”

I nodded. “No flares yet. You two go first. Head for the truck. Hi and I will count to thirty, then buzz the front of the house. If you spot the Gamemaster, whistle twice. Otherwise we’ll reconnect in the backyard.”

“You won’t hear a whistle in this.” Ben gestured to the chaos swirling around us. “Or anything else.”

“Then just sit tight wherever you are. If we don’t see you in the driveway, we’ll keep circling the house and link up by the truck.”

“What about Coop?” Hi kept his gaze on our target.

“He stays with me.” I grabbed the wolfdog’s snout and looked him in the eye. “You hear that, dog breath? By my side.”

Coop licked my hand.

Impossibly, the gusting kicked up a notch, making it difficult to even stand up straight. I braced myself against the store’s wall and prayed for a lull.

Time was up. We’d need to seek shelter in minutes.

After what seemed like an eon, the wind’s force dropped a fraction. Everyone struggled to their feet.

I gave Shelton a reassuring hug. “Good luck.”

“Stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” Shelton blinked through water-blurred lenses. “At least if the Gamemaster kills me, my parents won’t have the chance.”

“Stay close.” Ben squeezed Shelton’s shoulder. “Nothing’s gonna happen to you.”

Bending into the wind, they disappeared behind the rear of the store.

A powerful blast stripped a Miller Lite sign from the wall above my head. I watched the metal square careen across the street, slam into a car, then spin sideways and vanish into the gloom.

Hi and I silently counted. At thirty, we worked our way around the front of the store. At the corner of the building, we stopped to survey our objective.

The one-story row house was small and decrepit, its faded blue paint cracked and peeling. The exterior was a neglected eyesore of warped wooden slats, loose shingles, and dirty windows.

Not boarded up. Katelyn’s going to smash that place.

A fractured concrete walk connected the front door to the street. The lawn to either side was patchy and overgrown with weeds. No shrubs. No shade trees.

I pointed to a pair of windows flanking the entrance. “I’ll go left, you go right.”

Hi nodded. We sloshed forward, Coop by my side. At the window I dropped to a crouch beneath the sill.

Cautiously wiping grime from the unscreened glass, I examined what lay on the other side. Couch. Coffee table. Two armchairs. TV stand. Bare walls.

The room was dark. No one was in it.

I stepped back and signaled Hi. Sticking close to the building, we stole around to a gravel driveway on its opposite side. Sensing our need for stealth, Coop loped silently at my knee.

A chain-link fence bounded the property, running along the far edge of the gravel. A single window overlooked the drive from the house’s rear corner.

We crept forward, heads lowered, muscles tense.

I can’t see anything in this downpour. I could stumble right into him.

At the window, Hi boosted me with his hands. I peeked into a tiny chamber containing a bare mattress and a large black trunk. Lights off. Vacant.

When I stepped down, Hi cupped his hands over my ear. “What now?”

I pointed to the yard. “Truck.”

We found Ben and Shelton hunkered behind the Ford’s rear bumper. Glancing into the backyard, I saw a wheelbarrow, a stack of bricks, and a dilapidated storage shed in the near corner. Then I peered over the empty truck bed at the row house.

We were facing a screened-in porch, its wooden door banging in the shifting gale.

Ben pointed to three tiny windows lined up to the left of the porch. “Kitchen,” he yelled as we ducked back down. “No lights on, nothing moving.”

“Same for the living room and bedroom,” Hi shouted.

“So nobody’s home.” Shelton couldn’t hide his relief.

Coop chose that moment to shake vigorously, spraying us with doggie castoff.

Ben glared at the wolfdog, then nodded back the way he and Shelton had come. “I think there’s another room on that side. No windows.”

“Then we have to go in.” Sounding braver than I felt. “Make absolutely sure.”

Ben nodded, face tense. He started to rise but I snagged his elbow.

“Wait. It’s time.”

“Thank God,” Shelton breathed. “Now?”

“Now.”

SNAP.

The transformation came easily. No struggle. No battle for concentration.

The power flowed as though I’d flipped a switch.

Heat seared through my blood vessels. My irises ignited with golden fire.

Every sense blasted into hyperdrive. Sight. Smell. Hearing. Taste. Touch.

The surrounding maelstrom took on a thousand new dimensions. My brain could detect the tiniest details with laser precision. I was no longer blinded by the storm, wasn’t overwhelmed by nature’s savage fury.

I glanced at Coop, found him staring back at me.

He knew I’d unleashed the wolf inside me. That his pack was now fully alive.

With Coop so close the sensations were stronger, every faculty more supercharged. My flare power felt sharper than ever before.

Full strength. This is how it feels.

The boys looked at me with blazing yellow eyes. I felt their amazement.

“Whoa.” Hi blinked. “It’s like flaring on crack.”

Shelton removed his glasses and stuck them in his pocket. “Intense.”

Ben cracked his knuckles.

We were ready.

I’m coming for you, Gamemaster.

“Now,” I whispered, no longer needing to shout.

I bounded onto the porch, reached the door, and quietly turned the knob. Slipping inside the kitchen, I sidestepped along the wall so the others could follow.

Every sense was on high alert.

No movement. No sound of alarm.

Moving silently, Ben crept through a door on the left, Coop on his heels. A second later they were back, Ben shaking his head.

Anxious to retain the advantage of surprise, I tiptoed down a short hallway leading to the front. My pack followed in a noiseless line.

Bedroom. Bathroom. Living room.

All unoccupied. The five of us were alone in the house.

But a small blaze crackled in the fireplace.

“What should we do?” Hi whispered. “There’s a fire. The Gamemaster’s truck’s still here. He must be coming back.”

“Where would he go?” Shelton cracked open a door. Closet. Empty. “The city’s a ghost town. It’s not like he could pop out for a Whopper.”

“Guys, look!” Hi pointed to a Dell laptop lying on the couch.

I set the computer on the coffee table and booted. The boys sat beside me. Lacking tech skills, Coop began a nasal inspection of the drapes.

“Please have something we can use.” Shelton was dry-washing his hands.

A background image appeared—the man I’d met as Eric Marchant, shirtless, loading a giant marlin into his truck.

The Gamemaster.

I wanted to punch his smirking face.

The desktop held a single folder. Double-clicking the icon launched a slideshow.

Images began scrolling. Crime scene photos. Scanned newspaper clippings. Pictures of flipped cars and fire-gutted buildings. Obituaries. Autopsy reports.

Each item related to an accident or crime.

I paused the slideshow to scan several articles. Detected the theme.

Every crime was unsolved. Every accident was freakish and unexplained.

Many incidents had numerous victims. Some were grisly. All were terrible.

One after another the entries flashed on-screen. A few settings were identifiable. Seattle. New York City. Las Vegas. The majority were unrecognizable.

Shelton turned to me. “So what, he’s into police reports? Disaster stories?”

“They’re his work.” My stomach churned with revulsion. “Everything on here. This must be the Gamemaster’s private archive. A diary of his twisted games.”

“Trophies.” Hi’s voice was hushed. “His collection. Every serial killer has one.”

Ben’s fist slammed the coffee table. “I’ll kill this sick freak!”

Suddenly the screen went blank. There were sounds like a videogame, then a new program opened.

The Gamemaster’s face appeared.

“Hello, Tory.” He smiled. “Welcome to my humble home.”