Assured Destruction by Michael F. Stewart Page B

last few minutes of freedom. I turn back for Jonny, but he’s gone.
    Would I have had my face pressed up against the window?
    I shake my head and stroll to the parking lot, balancing the stack of books in my arms. I open the trunk of the car, let loose the landslide of books, and flop my bag on top. Once I’m sitting in the front seat, I heave a sigh.
    “Can I come?”
    I cry out, and Jonny’s head pops up from the back seat.
    “Sorry,” he says. “I guessed where you would be headed and had to hide when a teacher walked past. The door was unlocked …”
    “Yeah, I’m not too worried about someone stealing the sound system.” I twist in my seat. “What are you doing here?”
    “When a friend of mine says help me , I help.”
    I nearly break into tears. I’m not much of a weeper, and here I am, twice in twenty-four hours. He reaches out and touches my shoulder.
    “You better go,” I say. “Here comes another teacher.”
    “I’ll walk back from your place.” He ducks. “Drive.”
    I start the car and ease out of the parking lot. Once moving I keep well below the posted speed limit, wanting the drive to last as long as possible.
    “So what’s happening?” comes the disembodied voice.
    And I make the decision to tell him. To tell him everything. It feels so good to offload the guilt, the fear, the confusion, to have someone I can trust who knows. The only thing I don’t mention is that I’ve been poking around in his hard drive—that would end our budding relationship and I’m not ready for that.
    After I’m done, there’s nothing but silence in the back for a full minute.
    “So what you’re saying is that you’re taking people’s private files and using them to recreate them online?”
    “Yes.”
    “And now someone is targeting the real people behind the profiles?”
    “You got it. And me, I think the real target is me,” I add.
    I can’t see his expression, but I can tell he isn’t too impressed.
    “How could you think this whole thing was a good idea?”
    “I—listen; I’m not the one attacking them! Okay?” My voice cracks, and his head bobs up.
    “Why do you need imaginary friends?” he asks.
    “Whoever is attacking Shadownet isn’t imaginary, and the people he’s hurting aren’t imaginary.”
    We’re almost at Assured Destruction and I don’t want to end our conversation on a sour note.
    “Maybe you should think about that?” he says.
    If he hadn’t phrased it as a question, I might have blown up, but he had. “I have. I do care,” I say. “But if I go to the cops, my mom will lose the business and we’ll be on the street.”
    He’s quiet again for a moment. “So, Ellie has been hit. Harry. This clinic. You with the website. Who does that leave on this Shadownet?” he asks.
    I swallow, annoyed with myself that I hadn’t considered who might be next. “Gumps, who is dead—but that computer doesn’t count, it’s pre–Web. Heckleena, who was one of my first, and Frannie, who would be twelve or thirteen by now.”
    “Are they okay? Do you think it might be one of them?” There’s a pause. “That would make sense. I’d be pissed if you turned me into one of your Internet minions. That would give motivation.”
    I bite my lip. The fierce look in his eyes tells me that he’d throw me to the wolves if he knew he was part of Shadownet. Here he is, skipping class and walking back four miles in order to have this brainstorming session, and I can’t tell him the whole truth. I like Jonny, but I always feel guilty around him.
    “Chippy has motivation too,” I say.
    “Yeah, but you have no proof.”
    “I could hack his computer ...”
    “If you think you’re in trouble now, try breaking into a teacher’s files,” he sniggers. “Geez, you’re a magnet for this stuff.”
    “All right, the other Shadownet profiles at least give me something to focus on.” I pull into a parking spot well away from the front entry and turn the engine off. My mom’s van,