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Chapter 4
Boxcar
Then
I jiggle my hands, listening to the metal clanging of handcuffs latched around my wrists. The chain is fastened to the floor beneath my chair, making it nearly impossible for me to stand up. I guess this is where they throw prisoners of war they need to question. It sure would be nice if they did that — or, at the very least, made some sort of contact with me. The walls are made of metal and I’ve officially sweat out all the water that soldier gave me.
It has been about an hour since they dropped me into this room. I could easily have picked the cuffs by now, but I’d really rather not get shot today. It’s not like I could just sneak out of here without someone noticing.
I’m fucked. No ifs, ands, or buts about that. I’m on the road to Fuckedville with a one-way ticket. No stops. No piss breaks. No way out — but can they really blame me for doing what I did? I’m sure they would have done the same if they could. Stuck in the desert with no water, trapped with nothing but a laptop and brains. Of course, I sent out that signal. I’d do it again if I had to.
Finally, the door opens and that same tall, butch son-of-a-bitch who threw me in here steps inside. Sergeant Rhys, if I recall?
“Excuse me,” I say, clearing my dry throat. “May I have some water, please?”
He slams the door behind him and lingers over my chair. “You’re in some trouble, son.”
“I’m also an American citizen,” I say. “Last I checked, that warrants a sippy cup.”
He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest, flexing his mighty biceps as if it would intimidate me. “How did you hack our equipment?”
“I already told you.” I sigh. “Your equipment functions through satellites, which transmits waves—”
“You’ve said that already.”
I pause. “Well, sir, you asked twice.”
“Where’d you learn to do that?” he asks.
“I looked it up.”
“Where?”
“The internet.”
He chuckles but he’s far from amused. “You looked up how to hack into highly sophisticated government equipment on the internet?”
I scoff. “Your equipment is hardly sophisticated, Sergeant. I can list off about a half-dozen more exploits that are just as easy to break into and don’t require nearly as much effort. Anyone with even the slightest knowledge of radio frequencies and mechanical engineering could figure it out.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
He chews on his lip for a moment. “You’re in some trouble.”
“You have a real problem with repeating yourself, man…”
“But I can get you out of it.”
I raise a brow. “How?”
He turns and grabs the second chair from the corner and sets it down in front of me. “How old are you?” he asks.
I straighten up a little taller as he sits down, listening to the familiar jingle of cuffs. “Twenty.”
“As it stands right now, you’re looking at about twice that in prison.”
“Oh, please,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I sent out an S.O.S.”
