Understanding the Code

Understanding the Code


Emma's POV

I looked at the two figures on the bridge, my heart pounding.
Both looked exactly like Marcus and Jess. Both were calling my name. Both sounded real.
Then my phone buzzed again.
I almost ignored it, but something made me look. The message was from Jess's number: Emma, Jess here. Marcus says meet him at the bridge tonight. Says it's safe. But be careful. - J
My hands started shaking. The bridge. Marcus had said "the bridge."
But which bridge? And why did Jess tell me to be careful if it was meant to be safe?
I backed away from the two forms, thinking hard. Something about the statement felt important. Like Marcus was trying to tell me something without saying it directly.
Then it hit me.
Three weeks ago, when we first started running from Vincent, Marcus and I had made up a code. We were scared that Vincent might listen to our phone calls or read our texts.
"If we ever need to talk in secret," Marcus had said, "we'll use code words. If I say 'bridge,' I really mean the old railroad tunnel under Fifth Street."
The place where we'd first hidden from Vincent's men. The place where Marcus had held my hand and promised we'd get through this together.
He wasn't asking me to meet him on the Brooklyn Bridge. He was telling me to go to the tunnel.
But why was Jess sending the message instead of Marcus? And why did she tell me to be careful?
Unless Marcus couldn't send the message himself. Unless he was in trouble.
I looked back at the two figures on the bridge. They were still calling my name, but they weren't moving toward me. Like they were waiting for something.
Like they were waiting for me to come to them.
These had to be the samples. The real Marcus would never just stand there. He would run toward me, try to help me.
I turned away from the bridge and started running toward Fifth Street. Toward the cave. Toward what I hoped was the real Marcus.
But as I ran, worries filled my mind. What if I was wrong about the code? What if Marcus really did mean the Brooklyn Bridge? What if I was running away from the people trying to help me?
What if Vincent had pushed Marcus to send that message, and I was running straight into a trap?
My phone rang. Marcus's number.
"Emma?" His voice sounded scared and far away.
"Marcus! Where are you?"
"Emma, thank God," he said. "I need your help. Vincent has Jess. He's going to kill her."
My stomach dropped. This wasn't part of the plan. This was real.
"Where are you?" I asked.
"The parking lot by the river," Marcus said. "But Emma, be careful. Vincent has guys everywhere. Come alone, but watch for traps."
The parking place by the river. Not the tube. Not the bridge.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes," I said.
But as soon as I hung up, something felt wrong. Marcus's voice had sounded strange. Too calm for someone whose friend was about to be killed.
And he'd told me to come alone. The real Marcus would want me to bring help, bring the cops.
I stopped running and tried to think clearly. I had three different messages now:
First: Come to the Brooklyn Bridge (from the mockups) Second: Meet at "the bridge" meaning the tunnel (from Jess's phone)
Third: Come to the parking lot by the river (from Marcus's phone)
Which one was real? Which one was a trap?
I thought about what I knew. Vincent wanted to catch me. The prototypes wanted to turn me into one of them. But Marcus and Jess wanted to keep me safe.
The message from Jess's phone had told me to be careful. That sounded like the real Jess - always worried about me, always trying to protect me.
But the call from Marcus had sounded too easy, too handy.
I made my choice.
I would go to the tunnel. If Marcus was really there, we could figure out how to save Jess together. If it was a trap, at least the tunnel had various exits. I could run.
The parking lot by the river was too open, too easy for Vincent to circle.
I changed direction and headed for Fifth Street. The tunnel opening was hidden behind an old fence. Marcus and I had found it by accident when we were running from Vincent's men.
As I got closer, I could see a figure waiting in the shadows near the door.
My heart jumped. It looked like Marcus.
But I'd been fooled by samples before. I needed to be sure.
"Marcus?" I called out softly.
The figure turned toward me. In the dim light, I could see his face. It looked exactly like Marcus - same eyes, same smile, same way of standing with his hands in his pockets.
"Emma," he said, and his voice was full of relief. "Thank God you got the message."
"How do I know you're really you?" I asked.
Marcus smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Because only the real me would know how scared I am right now."
That sounded like Marcus. But I needed more proof.
"What did you tell me the night we first hid in this tunnel?" I asked.
Marcus was quiet for a moment. Then he said, "I told you that no matter what happened, I would never let Vincent hurt you. And you said you believed me."
My eyes filled with tears. Only the real Marcus would remember that discussion.
"It's really you," I said.
"It's really me," Marcus said. "But Emma, we have a problem."
"What kind of problem?"
"Vincent forced me to call you," Marcus said. "He thinks you're going to the parking lot by the river. His men are waiting there."
"But I'm here instead."
"Right. But Emma, Vincent has Jess. If we don't show up at the parking lot, he'll kill her."
I felt like the world was spinning. We'd escaped Vincent's trap, but now Jess was going to die because of it.
"What do we do?" I asked.
Marcus was quiet for a long moment. Then he said something that made my blood turn cold.
"We spring the trap ourselves."
"What do you mean?"
"We go to the parking lot. But we call the cops first. We turn Vincent's trap into our trap."
I looked at him. "That's crazy. Vincent has guys everywhere. We could get killed."
"We could," Marcus agreed. "But if we don't try, Jess will definitely die."
I thought about Jess, tied up somewhere, scared and alone. She'd risked her life to help me. Now it was my turn to help her.
"Okay," I said. "Let's do it."
But as we started going toward the parking lot, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was still wrong.
Marcus seemed too calm. Too ready to walk into danger.
What if this wasn't really Marcus either? What if the prototypes had learned our code? What if they were using it against me?
I looked at the person walking beside me. He looked like Marcus. He sounds like Marcus. He even smelled like Marcus.
But something in my gut was yelling that this was all wrong.
And by the time I figured out what it was, we were already at the parking lot.
Vincent was waiting for us with ten armed guys.
"Hello, Emma," Vincent said with a smile. "So nice of you to come."
That's when I realized the terrible truth.
The guy standing next to me wasn't Marcus at all.
And the real Marcus was probably already dead.