occured. I rose from my chair, tossing my duffel bag onto my bed. Ever since the accident I kept a scrapbook of my family when it was all together, when we were all happy. I opened the bag, expecting to see the cover page of the book, my parents huddled together, holding me in their arms, but it wasn't there. In fact, none of the stuff in the bag was mine. It was full of bundles of cash and flash drives. The flash drives were labeled with numbers instead of names. How did I get this stuff? Whose bag was this? What were these flash drives for? Questions filled my mind as I picked up a flash drive labeled "10967." I darted over to my desk, putting the flash drive into my laptop. Immediately, a new window opened. Numbers and codes covered my screen until an error code appeared. Permission to view this file has not been given, the message flashed over and over again. I still don't know what the file was, but one thing was for sure. It was something illegal. * * * I tossed and turned all night. My mind couldn't shake off the feeling that I was being followed, and no matter how much I tried to prevent it, my mind always wandered to the file and what it was about. Suddenly a face flashed into my mind. The guy from the airport. Hadn't he had a duffel bag exactly like mine? Of course this had been his. For a moment it crossed my mind that I should tell my grandmother, but I quickly pushed the idea to the back of my brain. I haven't even been here for twenty-four hours, and I have seen the unsure looks my grandmother gives me. She already thinks I'm nothing but trouble from the stories my siblings tell. They seem to only remember the bad things Iv'e done, instead of the good. I didn't want to add to the idea that I was mischievous. A ringing phone snapped me out of my thoughts. I glanced at the phone sitting on the nightstand by my head. It was silent. The ringing was coming form somewhere else. I slowly got out of bed, crossing the room to the back bag that sat by the door. The ringing grew louder as I approached it. I dug into the bag and pulled out a vibrating phone. The caller ID was only marked by a number, one similar to the kind that were on the flash drives. "30614" it read. My hand slid across the 'accept call' button. The ringing ceased abruptly. "Hello?" I whispered uneasily into the phone. "Hey, number '29850' this is '30614.' I'm in trouble. Big trouble. I need my flash drive, and I need it now. Can you meet me at the alley behind the old factory tomorrow morning at eight?" I don't know why I did it. I don't know why I said, "Sure, see you then." I immediately covered my mouth in awe at what I had just agreed to. Fear caused the blood running through my veins to turn ice cold. I began to dig through the duffel bag until I found a flash drive labeled "30614." I plugged it into my laptop and sighed when the same error message appeared. I looked at the phone in my hand. What had that guy called me? Number two...nine...something. I tried to focus as hard as I could. Number two, nine, eight, five, zero. That sounds right. I stared at the message on my screen, pressing the drop down arrow in the corner. Enter code, the box said. I quickly 26
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