Chapter 2
The red light kept coming through the frosted glass in pulses. It hit the floor by my feet, then pulled back, then hit again. Whoever was outside had said my name once and then gone quiet, like they were waiting for me to answer.
Zora didn't wait.
"Keys," she said. She was already moving toward the small table by the doors. "Where did you put your keys?"
I didn't answer right away. My phone was still lit up in my hand. FINAL NOTICE. NYLA BANKS in white letters. SELECTED in red. The red circle underneath it pulsed slow, like it was recording. I swiped up. Nothing happened. I swiped down. I pressed the red button. I held the power button on the side. The screen didn't change. It stayed on, bright, the red spilling onto my thumb.
"Nyla," Zora said, sharper this time. "Keys now, we have to go."
"I can't get it off," I said. My voice came out quieter than I wanted. "There's no X. There's nothing to press."
She glanced at my screen, then at her own phone. Hers was green. ZORA BANKS EXEMPT. Same layout, different color, steady green dot instead of pulsing red. She shoved hers into the pocket of her jacket and pulled open the little drawer in the entryway table. Car keys clattered inside, and her spare set, and a bunch of mail.
"Got them," she said and tossed her jacket sleeve back to get a better grip. She had my old Honda key in her hand by then, the one with the blue rubber cover.
Outside, the voice came again, louder and flatter this time, like it was coming through a speaker and not a person.
"Nyla Banks, continuity response."
I flinched. Zora stepped closer to the double doors. She didn't open them. She reached for the deadbolt and checked it, then the handle lock. Both were locked. She tested the handle, turning it just enough to feel the resistance, then letting it go.
"Sorry, who the hell is that?" she called out, not opening the door. She looked at me and mouthed, don't answer.
No response for a second. Then a knock. Not a polite knock. Three hard hits, evenly spaced, that shook the wood frame.
I pressed the home button on my phone again and tried to drag the notification away. The red SELECTED bar didn't move. The screen didn't even dim when I covered the sensor with my palm. It stayed lit, like it wanted to be seen.
"It's not turning off," I said. "Zora, it won't close."
"Put it down then," she whispered. "Put it in the back room."
"If I put it down they still know I'm here," I said.
Another knock, harder. The frosted glass rattled a little in its frame. The red light from the SUV outside was still flashing across it, and now I could see a shadow moving behind the glass, just the shape of a shoulder and an arm.
"Nyla Banks, we have you located," the voice said. "Please confirm at door."
Zora's hand went tight around the keys. She looked from the doors to the hallway behind us, to the kitchen, to the front windows with the blinds closed. She was calculating.
"Don't open it," she said to me quietly, even though I hadn't moved. "I'm not letting them take you."
The handle moved.
It wasn't us. From the outside, someone tested it. The lever went down about an inch, then caught on the lock. It went down again, slower, like they were checking if we'd forgotten to lock it. I heard the metal scrape. My chest went tight and I stopped breathing for a second without meaning to.
Zora stepped in front of me a little, just half a step, her side to the doors. Her phone in her pocket lit up green for a second and I saw the glow through the fabric.
"I'm exempt," she said, half to me, half to the door. "No. That has to mean something. They can't just come in."
I stared at my phone. The red circle kept pulsing. SELECTED. No dismiss. No back button. No swipe that worked. I pressed the volume buttons at the same time, held them. Nothing.
The handle tested again. Down, hold, release. The knock came again right after, two hits this time, closer together.
"Selected subject located," the voice said, and it wasn't louder, but it was clearer, like the speaker was right against the door now.
Zora didn't unlock it. She didn't move toward the SUV. She slid the keys into my palm and closed my fingers around them, hard.
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"We're not going out that way," she whispered. Her eyes were on the hallway behind us. "Come on."
I held the keys, I held the phone that wouldn't turn off, and the red light kept flashing across both our shoes while the handle stayed locked but not untouched.
