“Listen, I don’t know what I believe,” Gabby continued. “But I know Jax, and this guy isn’t Jax.” She jabbed a thumb at Michael. “No offense. It’s just that … I can tell he’s missing. Ya know? And all those stories you showed me … If nothing else, you’ve got me freaked out.”
Suddenly a composure came over her that was transforming. She sat up straighter; her eyes brightened; her skin seemed to glow. Michael could tell she was on the cusp of making a major decision, and he waited breathlessly to hear it.
“I can’t be spotted anywhere near VNS headquarters,” she said. “Too many people there know me because of my dad. But I can help you get in.”
They leaned closer as she kept talking.
The Falcons’ stadium was a massive thing, all glass and shiny metal. It looked like some mother spaceship from a sci-fi movie, ready to blast off for the stars. Since it was the offseason, the parking lot was an empty sea of asphalt, surrounded by multilevel structures erected to hold even more cars. It seemed that they had available parking for every person on the planet to come to a Falcons game.
He and his friends ran across the wide lot, the surface under their feet beginning to heat up from the morning sun. “In Lifeblood Deep, there was a space toward the front—a private parking spot that opened up like a trapdoor. That must be what Gabby was talking about.” He hoped they could find the right one.
Sarah already had her NetScreen lit up. It was hard to see in the sunlight, but visible enough. Gabby had said that once they got within the range of the thousands of signals that floated around the stadium, they’d be able to find the crack they needed to dive into. They’d gone over everything in the coffee shop as best they could.
“Man,” Sarah said. “This place is swarming. It makes our home signals look like cheap old radio stations. There’s more information flying around here than I’ve ever seen before. Even deep in the Sleep itself.”
Bryson clicked his tongue. “Well, there you go. We must be in the right place. Let me get linked up with you.”
The two of them worked at their screens, making Michael feel a little left out. He knew what they were doing. He’d noticed it on several occasions. They were worried about him, thought he was fragile. On edge, especially after the strange encounters during the last day or so. He couldn’t blame them for treading lightly with him. It was almost as if he were a newborn.
They stopped at the last—or first—row of parking spaces, closest to the hulking stadium itself. Michael looked around, took it all in. The structure loomed above them like a mountain of metal.
“This is where she said it’d be,” he said. “Northeast corner.”
Sarah sat on the curb, her eyes never leaving the faint glow of her NetScreen, and Bryson sat right next to her. Gabby had given them a few leads based on things she’d learned on her frequent visits to see her dad. As his friends worked those leads, Michael stood in front of them, feeling dumber by the minute.
“Anything I can do?” he asked. “Last I remember, I was pretty smart when it came to things like this.”
Neither Bryson nor Sarah acted like they’d heard a word he said. He forced a laugh, but that didn’t work, either. Giving up, he clicked on his own NetScreen and started dinking around to see if he could find something they might have missed.
They’d all been working for about five minutes or so when Michael heard the strangest sound. A slow but constant … clopping. He looked up just in time to see a horse come around the curve of the stadium a few hundred feet away, a police officer perched on the animal’s saddle. The horse’s shoes smacked against the sidewalk, an eerie, echoing noise that felt out of time and place with the hustle and bustle of the city.
Michael felt a little sting of alarm, even though the cop showed no interest in them. Yet. It was so strange. Human civilization had gotten so advanced that virtual reality was hardly distinguishable from real life and machines could hover in the air like alien spaceships. Yet some police evidently still walked around on horses, as if they were sheriffs looking for outlaws. He remembered the hovercop’s story about his great-great-something-or-other-grandpa.
“Guys,” Michael whispered. “We might want to pick up the pace. There’s a cop over there. On a horse.”
Bryson snickered at that but didn’t look up. Neither did Sarah. They were working feverishly, which Michael hoped was a good sign.
“Just saying,” he murmured. He returned his attention to his own NetScreen, but he felt like anything he did would be a waste—his friends were already way ahead of him.
Two things happened, so close together that Michael couldn’t tell which was first. A loud clank sounded just as the parking lot trembled close to where they sat. Then a rectangular section nearby separated from the surface around it and started lowering into the ground, groaning sounds of machinery coming from below.