Pax crouched down. “Already asleep?” he whispered.
“She’s been tired lately,” Rainy said. “It’s the stress.” She sounded so adult.
He nodded. “Say, how would you like to help me with something?”
She followed him out of the room and closed the door carefully behind her. In the kitchen she saw the laptop open on the table, the bumper sticker on the lid upside down now. Christian Fish looked the same flipped or not, but poor Darwin Fish seemed to be on its back with its legs in the air.
“You looked in our backpacks,” Rainy said angrily.
“I picked it up and it was heavy-”
“You looked in our backpacks!”
He opened his mouth, shut it. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Rainy blinked at him. “Well, we did bring it for you.”
“And you haven’t gotten past the password yet,” Pax said.
“No, but the hacker guy already left town, didn’t he?”
“He left me instructions. And tools.” He showed the things that Weygand had left for him: two cans of compressed air, a Phillips screwdriver, a four-gigabyte thumb drive, and a sheet of notebook paper with six numbered steps-and several asterisks.
Rainy looked at the laptop. “Show me.”
Weygand had explained the procedure several times, and Pax was reasonably sure about the details. He handed Rainy the Phillips screwdriver, and she set about opening the bottom panel of the laptop that allowed access to the RAM cards.
Pax read over the instructions again. “Okay, stand by with the compressed air.”
He took out the laptop’s battery, plugged in the power cord, and turned on the laptop. At the log-in screen he typed a series of random characters-anything would do, Weygand had said, because regardless of what was typed the operating system would retrieve the encrypted password off the hard drive, unencrypt it, and hold it in memory so that it could be compared to the typed characters. The clear text password only existed in RAM, never on the hard drive where hacking software could get at it. If the log-in succeeded, or if the computer was turned off, the clear text would be instantly erased.
The key to the whole process, Weygand said, was redefining instantly.
The screen came back with an incorrect password warning. “Ready?” Pax asked. He tilted up the laptop to expose the open compartment on the bottom. “Go.”
Rainy blasted the opening with the compressed air. After ten seconds she switched hands. “It’s cold,” she said.
“That’s the point. Keep going.” Weygand had said that information in RAM didn’t disappear for twenty or thirty milliseconds-and if the RAM card was immediately chilled, the information could persist for up to a minute.
When the can started to sputter he yanked out the power cord and the screen went black. “Here we go,” Pax said. He grabbed the thumb drive, fumbled it into one of the laptop’s USB ports, and plugged in the machine.
The screen remained black.
“What’s supposed to happen?” Rainy asked.
Pax picked up the instruction sheet. “It’s supposed to boot from the USB drive. There’s some kind of hacker operating system that’s supposed to load and go looking through RAM for the password.”
“It’s not even blinking,” Rainy said.
“I can see that.”
How much time had passed, thirty seconds? Maybe the USB port was dead. He looked at the side of the laptop and saw there was another port next to the first.
Another ten seconds passed. Fifteen. He yanked out the thumb drive and unplugged the laptop. Then he put the drive into the second port and plugged it in again.
“Should you have done that?” Rainy said.
“I have no idea.”
The screen flashed, and the Macintosh loading screen appeared. In a few seconds the log-in dialog box appeared.
“Shit.”
“It’s okay, Paxton,” Rainy said, and patted his hand. Her fingers were cold.
“It was probably working in the first port! I should have tested this first. All right, we’re going to try this again.” He picked up the instruction sheet and started reading through the steps yet again.
“Tommy says you’re a junkie,” Rainy said.
He jerked his head up. “What?” He could feel the heat in his cheeks. “That’s crazy, hon. Do you even know what a junkie is?”
“We know about the vintage. We’ve taken care of you while you were on it.”
“I don’t think you understand-”
“We’re worried about you, Paxton. Both of us are. We want you to stop hurting yourself.”
He put down the paper. “I’m working on it,” he said. He smiled. “The problem is, I’m a better person when I take vintage than when I don’t.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true, hon. I just, uh, feel more.” He picked up the screwdriver, ran his thumb along the metal. “It’s hard to explain, but I get this feeling of, I guess, connection.” He laughed. “Honestly, sometimes I lose track of where I stop and other people begin. Even people I have trouble relating to, on the vintage I can talk to them.” Even dead people, he thought. His conversation with his mother had been better than any he’d had with her while she was living. “I can just… love them.”
Rainy took the screwdriver out of his hand and put it on the table. “Maybe you should try doing it without the vintage.”
She regarded him with that preternatural blank calm. After a moment he said, “You know, you’re pretty clever for a twelve-year-old.”
“You don’t know many twelve-year-olds.”
“Seriously, you’re the smartest kid I’ve ever met. You remind me so much of your mom.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. “Tommy says that all the time.”
“Okay…” he said. Who wouldn’t want to be Jo Lynn Whitehall? Pax certainly did. Maybe they didn’t like it because of the way Tommy said it. “You know,” Pax said, “You haven’t told me yet why you and Sandra ran away from him.”
She wouldn’t look at him. She went to the sink, picked up a cloth towel.
“Rainy, did he hurt you? Or Sandra?”
“Tommy wouldn’t hurt us,” she said. “Not like that.” She rubbed the cloth along the edge of the counter. “He wants to take us away. Out of Switchcreek.”
“Ah,” Pax said.
She turned to face him. “You knew?”
“Tommy came looking for you tonight,” Pax said. “He said some things.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
“It’s an empty threat, Rainy. Tommy can’t leave Switchcreek-soldiers are guarding all the roads.”
“No, there’s a plan,” she said. “A plan to sneak us out. A couple of the white-scarf girls told us. People in the Co-op are working on it.”
“What? Why? Why would they let him take you?”
Rainy looked away. “We told you-we’re special.”
“Yeah, the natural-born thing. But there are other natural-borns, aren’t there? Why you two?”
She shrugged. “Because we’re the first, I guess.”
“Rainy, this doesn’t make any sense. If you’re that special, they wouldn’t just let Tommy run off with you, they’d protect you.”
“They think that’s what they’re doing.”
“This is bullshit,” Pax said. He got up from the table. “When was this supposed to happen?”
“In the morning.”
“What?”
“That’s why we left tonight. We can’t trust Tommy, or the reverend.”
“Wait a minute. How are they going to get you out? There are checkpoints, helicopters-”
“I don’t know, they didn’t tell us that!”
Jesus, he thought. Tommy was going to get them killed like Deke and Donna.
“All right, listen,” Pax said. “I’ll go to the Co-op, I’ll talk to the reverend-”
“No! You can’t talk to her!”
“I’ll tell her that if Tommy tries to kidnap you that I’ll tell the Guard.”
“But she’s a part of this! You can’t trust her, Paxton.”
“I’m not talking about trusting her-I’ll be informing her. She won’t be able to do anything to you, and Tommy won’t be able to do anything to you. I promise.”