Skinwalker

Sheets of paper cover the bed. On the nightstand there’s a stack about a half inch thick that includes the data sheet’s I had been given, what feels like, months ago. The truth is, Cassandra walked into my life exactly fourteen days ago. That wasn’t the day she came into the club with the Manilla Envelope Project, as Kendal called it. It was the day she came into Tails and sat at my table. The witch had come to the club to scout me, to make sure she had found the right girl and that her tracking spell had worked before turning my world upside down.

Some of the sheets I found during while I’ve been working at Genetics Incorporated, others are prints I made from photographs I snuck on my phone, and some are the drafts I made back in the capitol when I first had access to my host. I need to know everything I can that pertains to the layout and security of the facility before I attempt a breakout mission.

The largest paper is maybe 36x30; it’s a map of the compound, the buildings true blueprint. I can match it up with a photo I took of the cell schematics, where each subhuman is listed. It’s a list I found on one of the security desks and the names were written in dry erase marker making me think that the list gets updated frequently. I can only assume that’s because there are prison cells and medical stations, and patients are moved back and forth. Maybe for testing?

Staring at the collection, I debate what I’m going to do. I want to walk through the doors of Genetics Incorporated tomorrow morning with a plan, one that can be put into action right away. The sooner this is over, the better. I’ve given myself away too many times. Neut knows what I am. Alexander, or Isaac, whatever his name is these days, knows who I am. Logan got into my head, and I gave myself away not realizing humans don’t feel his influence. I’ve made several mistakes and could have been caught with any of them. What if the next mistake I make is the one that sells me out? I can’t afford to stick around a moment longer than necessary.

There is so much information in front of me, I’m not even sure where to begin. Should I start with the blueprint so I can memorize where all the security doors are? Or maybe the cell blocks so I can see where each person last was? Of course, that could change come morning. Maybe Colton will have been moved overnight to one of the two medical bays? What if someone else got moved for one reason or another? I’d have to see an updated list just before executing my plan for the most accurate information. Perhaps there is a grid like this at every security desk that’s constantly updated. That would be convenient.

In one of the photographs, I took there’s a sheet of paper that looks like code. It’s got a row with a letters and numbers in it on the left and then to the right there is a series of numbers, all nine digits long. There are two columns like this. I pick it up to examine it a little closer and ponder what importance this has. Why would they have a sheet of paper with computer code printed on it? After a moment, I realize it can’t be computer code because all the numbers are included, not just 0’s and 1’s.

The numbers repeat with slight variations A001 to G002, then pick up in the next column at G003 and run through J008. Almost every section ends with the number eight, with a few exceptions that end at four. At the bottom there is a section for M; M001-M008.

I’ve seen the first set of numbers before. I shuffle through the sheets and find the list of patients in each cell. In the top left corner of each tiny box is a letter, followed by three numbers. A001 is cell block A, room 001. Looking at the numbers written next to each cell, I realize they’re codes to unlock the doors. Instinctively, I reach into the drawer of the nightstand, remembering there was a pad of paper and an ink pen tucked away with the Bible. Writing on the pad of paper: A - 0, B = 1, and continuing until H = 8. It then jumps to M = 9.

Each code follows an algorithm; the first number correlates to the cell block, followed by the three-digit room number, the year of the reveal, and finally the last digit of the room number. I verify it over and over again, looking at the list. A001 has a code of 000120211. B003 has a code of 100320213. M002 900220212. Remembering the makeup of every door code shouldn’t be difficult, which is the point, I assume.

The code shouldn’t be something easily guessed, it should take a bit of work to figure out otherwise anyone could open any door at any time. According to Brittany’s memories, even she has never seen the codes or known the algorithm which means they aren’t given away to every employee. I assume the guard hasn’t figured out the pattern since he has a printout at the station.

It’s fortunate they’ve gone lax for my sake. Having these codes and realizing how they work will make the jailbreak much simpler. Now I just have to decide how I want to proceed with the actual escape plan. In my contract, Catherine is top priority, even over myself. Get the princess out, then the data, then the hybrids, then the other subhumans. Or is it the princess, the hybrids, the data, and then the rest? I abandon the sheet of door locks on the bed with everything else, and search for the contract.

There are several scenarios in the contract listing priority actions during the evacuation process. If the condition becomes critical the top priority is Catherine’s safety, followed by my own, and then anyone who can be spared on the way to the exit. The contract even lists what is considered an acceptable immanent threat, which is basically any condition that could put our lives in danger in the immediate future.

If the condition is severe, meaning the threat of an attack is highly likely in the not-so-distant future then the priority remains Catherine, myself, then the hybrids, and lastly then anyone who can be spared on the way to the exit.

Substantial conditions are when lives become less of a priority. An attack is likely but not so soon that I can’t afford a little time to copy the files and plant the virus. Catherine and the hybrids are to be released, the flash drives are used, and then the remaining subhumans are freed so long as I’m not in danger. If I’m in danger, I’m to escape and rescue anyone along the way.

Moderate conditions don’t really change anything because an attack is only possible and hasn’t yet been initiated. It’s the sweet spot between low and substantial, because our escape plan is being executed and has gone unnoticed. I doubt it will last very long.

Lastly is low conditions. The file transfer happens immediately after Catherine’s release and everyone else falls behind. It seems unlikely that this phase will last very long. It would be too perfect to sneak everyone out, copy files, and plant a virus without a single person noticing.

I imagine the attack will start at low, as time passes it will creep into moderate and balance on substantial for a little while. When things become critical, severe is right behind it, and time will be out. It all depends on how long my actions and the transfer of data go unnoticed. Everything could run smoothly for several minutes and then fall apart a second later.

Now that I’ve re-educated myself on how the contract works, I need to decide what exactly it is I intend to do. I can appreciate the fact that the priorities adapt based on the situation but what’s in writing is much different than how real life will play out. Plus, Queen Scarlet’s priorities are not Piper Monáe’s priorities. Levi is more important than a set of flash drives to me and in many of the scenarios in the contract, he isn’t.

How important is he though? Enough to risk Catherine? Enough to risk Cassandra and Tala? Is Levi more important than all the other subhumans? How do I rank life like this? I know I can’t leave him. I won’t. Even if it means putting myself in severe, life-threatening danger. Levi will not be left behind.