Disclaimer: I'm a poor college student, please don't sue me. Besides, I'm making diddly squat off this. The Matrix and many of these characters belongs to Warner Bros., Wachowski brothers and company. I'm just.....borrowing some of them for fun.
Chapter 3
*eight months later*
It had rained again. Catherine slammed the front door shut and threw her dripping bag in the corner. It had been a long day at school and an even longer on at the grocery store, and the beep of the bar scanner was still ringing in her ears. At least she didn't have calculus homework (not that it was hard, just busywork). Sophomore year was shaping up to be just like freshman year: boring, tiresome, and frustrating. The feeling that she was like a rat on one of those running wheels, that she was moving but going nowhere, nagged at her more than ever. Guess they didn't call it the rat race for nothing.
Her mom was out working, as usual. There was a note on the grimy counter saying that they were out of milk. Catherine sighed, made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and went to her computer. She now led two lives: Catherine, the brilliant but quiet girl with no friends, and Trinity, who did favors for a small fee for online acquaintances. It wasn't anything big: erasing an overdue bill here, changing a grade there, digging up dirt on various people, and occasionally dropping a nasty virus into someone's lap. It kept her from pulling her hair out from boredom and allowed her to save up for a nicer computer. Meanwhile, she was testing the boundaries of the Internet and her hacking skills, sneaking into different systems and databases just to see if she could do it. Also, it was fun to one-up Joe this way, who still wouldn't admit that she was better at it than him.
Turning on the computer, she hoped to see a message from Joe. He was usually pretty good about writing to her, especially since he went off to the state university three months ago. She hadn't heard from him in three weeks though, and even though she tried not to feel hurt-he was probably caught up in frat parties and settling into college-she wondered if it would take all that much time for him to leave her a note. She hoped he was alright, that he wasn't sick or anything.
Just as she hoped, there was a message waiting for her from Joe. The message was short, and made her stomach drop like missile.
Cat,
Be careful. They're watching. It's not a game anymore.
Joe
The message was from two hours ago. She called his dorm room, but got his roommate. Joe was out, left in a hurry without saying anything. No, he didn't know where he went.
"Shit," thought Catherine. What happened?
Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Should she answer it? She wasn't expecting anyone.
"Catherine, it's me." Joe.
She went over and opened the door.
"Joe, what happened? I just got your message."
"No time to explain, but I need you to be careful," he said, keeping his voice down and staying away from the windows.
"Why, what's going on?" He was worrying her; she'd never seen him like this. He was usually so happy and in a joking mood. Now he was pacing back and forth across her living room.
"Shhhhhh.....they're watching you," he said, stopping his pacing, but with eyes still wandering around the room like he was searching for something. "They've been watching us all along."
"Who? What the hell is going on, Joe? Just give me a straight answer," her worry turning into frustration.
"Alright, two months ago I joined this secret club for comp-sci majors only. We mostly created viruses and hacked around for shits and giggles. Recently, we started hacking government databases. I'm talking the big time here, NSA, FBI, and the IRS. Granted, it probably wasn't the brightest idea, but people have done it before. It was a game to us, to see who could outdo the other, like you and I used to play. Then about two weeks ago, Jason, who goes by the hacker name Dion, found something that he wasn't supposed to." Joe stopped.
"What? What was it? Tell me!"
She was getting scared now. Joe wasn't supposed to look like this, as if he was being hunted. This wasn't the person she hugged goodbye before he went to college.
"Joe? Joe, you alright?"
He didn't seem to hear her. Instead, he was concentrating on something else. She tried to listen too, but her mind was whirling. Suddenly, he snapped out of it.
"Listen to me, Cat, and listen carefully," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "If anything-
Knock, knock. Someone was at the door.
"What the--?" Catherine looked at the door. She could see the outlines of three men, probably in business suits.
"They're here!" Joe whispered, swallowing hard.
Knock, knock. Oh shit.
Joe grabbed her hand and forced her to focus.
"Cat, if anything happens to me, find Dion. Ask about the Kansas City IRS."
"The IRS? But Joe-" There was a crash as the glass on the front door was smashed. An arm reached in and turned the knob. Oh my God.
"Run, Cat!" whispered Joe, before getting up and launching himself at the door.
She didn't even look back as she shot off from the living room, through the main bedroom, kicking out the window screen, and hitting the dead-grass-covered backyard at a sprint. She vaulted the low picket fence and took off down the street, making right and left turns without checking to see if anyone was following her. By the time she stopped, her lungs burned like molten lava, her feet felt like they were skinned to the bone-which was entirely possible since she only had socks on-and she could feel her heart beating against her ribs like a frantic bird trying to escape a cage.
She was on the other side of town in the business district. All of the shops were closed and there was no one around. She slumped down in a damp doorway and pulled her knees into her chest. All of her energy left her. It was cold, but that wasn't why she was shaking and trying to curl herself into the smallest ball possible.
"Oh my God, Joe," she thought. "What did you do?"
She wondered if he was alright, if he was sitting in some squad car or jail cell right now. Why hadn't she stayed to help?
"I should have stayed, Joe, I should have been stronger. Why did you tell me to run?" But then, what could she have done? She was a fifteen-year-old girl whose only experience with defense involved fending off bullies who wanted her lunch money.
She could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. But no, she bit back the tears and forced herself to get up. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she discovered that her feet were severely cut, and if she hadn't purposely run in the gutters and puddles, there would have been a bloody trail leading right to her. She cleaned off her cuts in the public restroom at the park, daubed at them with paper towels until the bleeding stopped. Then she put her socks on, which had holes like Swiss cheese.
After that, she wasn't sure what to do. Would it be a good idea to go back? Did anyone see her leaving from the back? Probably not. They had kept their voices down to a whisper, even though Catherine had felt like screaming at Joe to spit out whatever he had been trying to tell her. Joe should have created enough of a distraction that no one would've noticed her slipping out the back way. She had been over the fence and around the corner, out of sight, in less than thirty seconds, running silently in her socks. At least thirty minutes had passed since she had run off, and it would take at least another thirty minutes to get back. It should be safe.
When she got back to her street, she saw that no one was around. There weren't even nosy neighbors milling around. It was as if nothing had happened. She carefully examined every shadow and every bush before coming around the corner and approaching her house slowly. Her mother wasn't home yet, the car wasn't in the driveway. Slowly, she went up the porch steps, turned the door knob, and stepped back, waiting for something to jump out at her.
Nothing happened.
The door creaked back on its hinges, revealing the dark, silent living room. The broken glass still lay on the floor. Everything else was in its place, like nothing happened. There were no signs of struggle, no signs of anything unusual, except for the broken door. The only thing new was a note attached to her computer that fluttered in the draft. Catherine reached for it slowly, as if she was afraid it might bite her. She had a sinking feeling that it might not bite, but it would hurt.
Dear Catherine,
I apologize for breaking your door. You were not here when I came over to say goodbye. I was hoping you would convince me otherwise, but your absence led me to carry out my plan. I am leaving you, Catherine. Whatever I said to you before, I was wrong and I apologize. Forget what I said and forget about me. I have gone to a better place.
Sincerely,
Joe
Catherine looked at the note, dumbstruck. After what had happened, she knew that Joe didn't write it. Whoever left it for her to find must have thought that she wasn't here when the men came for Joe. Besides, he never called her Catherine in his other messages, always Munchkin or Smurf or at least Cat. Never Catherine. The entire note just sounded wrong. It was too mechanical, there weren't any contractions or slang. It was like some computer program wrote it.
Catherine crumpled the note in her hand, crushing the paper until her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into her skin. Tears of frustration and anger and helplessness trickled down her cheek. It was the first time she had cried since her parents got divorced. Joe was gone, she knew that, but it wasn't suicide. They took him, whoever they were. And she had let it happen.
"I'm so sorry, Joe," she whispered to the darkness. "I should have stayed here, if only to act as a witness. Then they couldn't have taken you. I could've screamed, I could've called for help, I could've...." What?
The tears stopped, frozen as she felt herself becoming cold. She had failed him. Her weakness and fear had cost her her only friend. He had thrown himself at the door to hold off the men long enough for her to escape. She was unscathed because of him, and he was probably dead because of her.
It was then that Catherine vowed never to let anyone die because of her failures again. Never again would she need saving. She would make herself strong, unbreakable, like steel.
And she would find out who did this and destroy them.
Chapter 3
*eight months later*
It had rained again. Catherine slammed the front door shut and threw her dripping bag in the corner. It had been a long day at school and an even longer on at the grocery store, and the beep of the bar scanner was still ringing in her ears. At least she didn't have calculus homework (not that it was hard, just busywork). Sophomore year was shaping up to be just like freshman year: boring, tiresome, and frustrating. The feeling that she was like a rat on one of those running wheels, that she was moving but going nowhere, nagged at her more than ever. Guess they didn't call it the rat race for nothing.
Her mom was out working, as usual. There was a note on the grimy counter saying that they were out of milk. Catherine sighed, made herself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and went to her computer. She now led two lives: Catherine, the brilliant but quiet girl with no friends, and Trinity, who did favors for a small fee for online acquaintances. It wasn't anything big: erasing an overdue bill here, changing a grade there, digging up dirt on various people, and occasionally dropping a nasty virus into someone's lap. It kept her from pulling her hair out from boredom and allowed her to save up for a nicer computer. Meanwhile, she was testing the boundaries of the Internet and her hacking skills, sneaking into different systems and databases just to see if she could do it. Also, it was fun to one-up Joe this way, who still wouldn't admit that she was better at it than him.
Turning on the computer, she hoped to see a message from Joe. He was usually pretty good about writing to her, especially since he went off to the state university three months ago. She hadn't heard from him in three weeks though, and even though she tried not to feel hurt-he was probably caught up in frat parties and settling into college-she wondered if it would take all that much time for him to leave her a note. She hoped he was alright, that he wasn't sick or anything.
Just as she hoped, there was a message waiting for her from Joe. The message was short, and made her stomach drop like missile.
Cat,
Be careful. They're watching. It's not a game anymore.
Joe
The message was from two hours ago. She called his dorm room, but got his roommate. Joe was out, left in a hurry without saying anything. No, he didn't know where he went.
"Shit," thought Catherine. What happened?
Suddenly there was a knock on her door. Should she answer it? She wasn't expecting anyone.
"Catherine, it's me." Joe.
She went over and opened the door.
"Joe, what happened? I just got your message."
"No time to explain, but I need you to be careful," he said, keeping his voice down and staying away from the windows.
"Why, what's going on?" He was worrying her; she'd never seen him like this. He was usually so happy and in a joking mood. Now he was pacing back and forth across her living room.
"Shhhhhh.....they're watching you," he said, stopping his pacing, but with eyes still wandering around the room like he was searching for something. "They've been watching us all along."
"Who? What the hell is going on, Joe? Just give me a straight answer," her worry turning into frustration.
"Alright, two months ago I joined this secret club for comp-sci majors only. We mostly created viruses and hacked around for shits and giggles. Recently, we started hacking government databases. I'm talking the big time here, NSA, FBI, and the IRS. Granted, it probably wasn't the brightest idea, but people have done it before. It was a game to us, to see who could outdo the other, like you and I used to play. Then about two weeks ago, Jason, who goes by the hacker name Dion, found something that he wasn't supposed to." Joe stopped.
"What? What was it? Tell me!"
She was getting scared now. Joe wasn't supposed to look like this, as if he was being hunted. This wasn't the person she hugged goodbye before he went to college.
"Joe? Joe, you alright?"
He didn't seem to hear her. Instead, he was concentrating on something else. She tried to listen too, but her mind was whirling. Suddenly, he snapped out of it.
"Listen to me, Cat, and listen carefully," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "If anything-
Knock, knock. Someone was at the door.
"What the--?" Catherine looked at the door. She could see the outlines of three men, probably in business suits.
"They're here!" Joe whispered, swallowing hard.
Knock, knock. Oh shit.
Joe grabbed her hand and forced her to focus.
"Cat, if anything happens to me, find Dion. Ask about the Kansas City IRS."
"The IRS? But Joe-" There was a crash as the glass on the front door was smashed. An arm reached in and turned the knob. Oh my God.
"Run, Cat!" whispered Joe, before getting up and launching himself at the door.
She didn't even look back as she shot off from the living room, through the main bedroom, kicking out the window screen, and hitting the dead-grass-covered backyard at a sprint. She vaulted the low picket fence and took off down the street, making right and left turns without checking to see if anyone was following her. By the time she stopped, her lungs burned like molten lava, her feet felt like they were skinned to the bone-which was entirely possible since she only had socks on-and she could feel her heart beating against her ribs like a frantic bird trying to escape a cage.
She was on the other side of town in the business district. All of the shops were closed and there was no one around. She slumped down in a damp doorway and pulled her knees into her chest. All of her energy left her. It was cold, but that wasn't why she was shaking and trying to curl herself into the smallest ball possible.
"Oh my God, Joe," she thought. "What did you do?"
She wondered if he was alright, if he was sitting in some squad car or jail cell right now. Why hadn't she stayed to help?
"I should have stayed, Joe, I should have been stronger. Why did you tell me to run?" But then, what could she have done? She was a fifteen-year-old girl whose only experience with defense involved fending off bullies who wanted her lunch money.
She could feel the tears forming in her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she cried. But no, she bit back the tears and forced herself to get up. Now that the adrenaline rush was over, she discovered that her feet were severely cut, and if she hadn't purposely run in the gutters and puddles, there would have been a bloody trail leading right to her. She cleaned off her cuts in the public restroom at the park, daubed at them with paper towels until the bleeding stopped. Then she put her socks on, which had holes like Swiss cheese.
After that, she wasn't sure what to do. Would it be a good idea to go back? Did anyone see her leaving from the back? Probably not. They had kept their voices down to a whisper, even though Catherine had felt like screaming at Joe to spit out whatever he had been trying to tell her. Joe should have created enough of a distraction that no one would've noticed her slipping out the back way. She had been over the fence and around the corner, out of sight, in less than thirty seconds, running silently in her socks. At least thirty minutes had passed since she had run off, and it would take at least another thirty minutes to get back. It should be safe.
When she got back to her street, she saw that no one was around. There weren't even nosy neighbors milling around. It was as if nothing had happened. She carefully examined every shadow and every bush before coming around the corner and approaching her house slowly. Her mother wasn't home yet, the car wasn't in the driveway. Slowly, she went up the porch steps, turned the door knob, and stepped back, waiting for something to jump out at her.
Nothing happened.
The door creaked back on its hinges, revealing the dark, silent living room. The broken glass still lay on the floor. Everything else was in its place, like nothing happened. There were no signs of struggle, no signs of anything unusual, except for the broken door. The only thing new was a note attached to her computer that fluttered in the draft. Catherine reached for it slowly, as if she was afraid it might bite her. She had a sinking feeling that it might not bite, but it would hurt.
Dear Catherine,
I apologize for breaking your door. You were not here when I came over to say goodbye. I was hoping you would convince me otherwise, but your absence led me to carry out my plan. I am leaving you, Catherine. Whatever I said to you before, I was wrong and I apologize. Forget what I said and forget about me. I have gone to a better place.
Sincerely,
Joe
Catherine looked at the note, dumbstruck. After what had happened, she knew that Joe didn't write it. Whoever left it for her to find must have thought that she wasn't here when the men came for Joe. Besides, he never called her Catherine in his other messages, always Munchkin or Smurf or at least Cat. Never Catherine. The entire note just sounded wrong. It was too mechanical, there weren't any contractions or slang. It was like some computer program wrote it.
Catherine crumpled the note in her hand, crushing the paper until her knuckles turned white and her nails dug into her skin. Tears of frustration and anger and helplessness trickled down her cheek. It was the first time she had cried since her parents got divorced. Joe was gone, she knew that, but it wasn't suicide. They took him, whoever they were. And she had let it happen.
"I'm so sorry, Joe," she whispered to the darkness. "I should have stayed here, if only to act as a witness. Then they couldn't have taken you. I could've screamed, I could've called for help, I could've...." What?
The tears stopped, frozen as she felt herself becoming cold. She had failed him. Her weakness and fear had cost her her only friend. He had thrown himself at the door to hold off the men long enough for her to escape. She was unscathed because of him, and he was probably dead because of her.
It was then that Catherine vowed never to let anyone die because of her failures again. Never again would she need saving. She would make herself strong, unbreakable, like steel.
And she would find out who did this and destroy them.