typed '29850,' hoping that this would work. Access granted, the message read. I smiled, starting at the numbers and words in front of me. It reminded me of the time my dad showed me how much money I had in my college fund. It looked as if money was being taken from bank accounts and put onto the flash drives. I gasped. Something had to be done about this. * * * The next morning, I woke up early so I would be ready to meet the mysterious '30614.' Nobody else was awake. I sat on the couch, eating cereal and watching the news. The reporter droned on and on about terrorist attacks, traffic, and weather. I was about to change the channel when once again a familiar face flashed on the screen. It was the guy from the airport. I almost choked on my breakfast as I turned the volume up on the tv. "Damien Jones is wanted in three states including New Jersey, Nebraska, and now California. If you see this man, please alert authorities immediately." I opened my eyes wide, noticing that it was time for me to leave. I grabbed the flash drive and my phone and headed outside. Once again, the thought of alerting my grandma returned. Now that I know I am dealing with a dangerous criminal, it seems like I should get her involved. I thought about it for a moment, then shook my head. There was nothing my grandmother could do. She wouldn't able to prevent anything from happening to me. The first thing I noticed was a blue Sedan parked on the curb. I had never noticed before, and despite the various open parking spots it isn't parked where it should be, and the car was still running. I headed down the road, I could already see the abandoned factory in the distance. As I walked, the feeling that I was being followed returned. I turned around, but couldn't see anything but the blue Sedan down the street. I continued on, but still had the unbearable feeling that I wasn't alone. When I rounded the corner, the blue Sedan passed me slowly. My heartbeat sounded at a mile a minute. I began to run, and I heard the door slam closed. New footsteps now joined my own. I looked behind me, and sure enough, Damien Jones stared back at me, and he wasn't alone. Minutes later, I was pinned to the ground. "Give me the flash drive if you know what's good for you, girlie," Damien sneered. "I don't think that's happening," I laughed confidently. He glared at me. "It will if you want to keep the precious memories of your parents." He held up the scrapbook. My parents smiled down at me from the cover. "I'm sorry, Mom and Dad," I said. I held the flash drive in my hands, ready to throw it into the gutter. 27

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