Page 31 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
“Every system has vulnerabilities,” Stitch speaks from the darkness, her voice floating between cells. “Even ones built on quantum entanglement.”
For the first time in hours, something stirs in my chest. Not hope—we’re still trapped, still collared, still forced to build weapons of mass destruction.
But a tiny flicker of possibility lights within me. But how to capitalize on it?
“If they’re using my research…” The thought coalesces slowly. “Then maybe I understand their weaknesses better than Malfor does.”
Night deepens around us. Rebel’s breathing evens out as pain medication pulls her under. Malia whispers equations to herself, a self-soothing ritual I recognize from our days workingtogether. Jenna and Mia maintain a silent watch, taking turns sleeping in shifts.
Through it all, my mind races through quantum possibilities, through entanglement protocols and signal degradation patterns. If Malfor is using my work to control the nanobots, then perhaps—just perhaps—I can find a way to use that same work against him. Maybe I can get a message out?
Not rescue. Not escape. But resistance.
It’s all we have left.
ELEVEN
Patient Zero
HANK
The Kazakhstan extraction.Three months ago.
“When was the first documented system failure?” I ask.
Mitzy pulls up the data. “Guardian Grind register. The espresso machine. Exactly seventy-two hours after the extraction team returned.”
I move toward Mitzy’s workstation, where her team is already assembling the timeline Doc Summers suggested. They’ve created a virtual map of Guardian HQ, with each affected system marked in red, timestamps floating beside each marker.
“Show me.” I position myself where I can see the entire display.
“We’ve documented 147 separate electronic failures over the past eleven weeks,” Mitzy explains, bringing the visualization to life.
The markers appear one by one, chronologically, spreading across the map like a time-lapse of infection. “Starting here.”
The first red dot appears over Guardian Grind. The coffee shop where Ally works. Where Malia works.
Where they spent most of their time after returning from Kazakhstan.
“The espresso machine register,” Mitzy confirms. “First reported malfunction, exactly 72 hours after the extraction team returned.”
The second dot appears nearby. “Malia’s cell phone. Battery completely drained despite being fully charged. 12 hours later.”
A third dot. “Ally’s laptop. Power regulation issue.”
Doc Summers frowns, studying the display. “Wait. Where was Ally’s laptop when it failed?”
“Nowhere near Guardian Grind,” Mitzy confirms, checking the logs.
“That’s significant,” Doc Summers says, her medical training kicking in. “If this were a traditional pathogen, we’d be looking at two separate outbreaks. Two distinct patient zeros. The espresso machine at Guardian Grind, and Ally’s laptop in a completely different location.”
The pattern expands outward, like ripples in water, each new failure connecting to previous ones through proximity or usage patterns. But now I can see what Doc Summers sees—two epicenters of infection, spreading simultaneously.
The electronic contagion moves through Guardian HQ like a slow-motion explosion. “From person to person, device to device.”
“The timing is too precise to be coincidental,” Mitzy agrees. “And look at the concentration points.”
She highlights specific areas on the map—Guardian Grind, the residential quarters where Malia lives, the research lab where Malikai worked, and our condo.
