were coming at you with everything they had?”
“Was that the one with the Nazi K-9 units?” Oz asked.
“Yeah, but instead of dogs, they had wolf men on the end of their leashes.”
“Can we talk about something else?” Danielle asked.
“You’re not scared, are you?” Oz said.
“I just don’t want to talk about wolf men, that’s all.”
“All right,” Oz said. “What should we talk about? Butterflies? Fairies? Unicorns?”
“I think we should hack into Trident Biotech’s network,” Danielle said.
Oz raised his eyebrows. “I knew there was a reason I liked hanging out with you.”
“What about Basil?” Colt asked. “Shouldn’t we wait to see what he says?”
“We don’t even know if he’s going to help us,” Danielle said, “and every day that we wait, we risk getting attacked again. I’m sick of being scared.”
Colt couldn’t argue.
“I want to find out how those biochips work so we can shut them down,” Danielle said. “I doubt they’re going to hand over the schematics to us, so we’re just going to have to take them.”
“I don’t know,” Colt said. “That seems like a big risk.”
“All we need to do is get hold of the credentials from a Trident employee who has access to the files,” Danielle said. “Once I have that, I can upload a virus into their system that will allow me to make a new username and password.”
“Won’t a cyber attack raise a red flag?” Colt asked.
“We’ll be able to log in any time we want, and they won’t have a clue.”
“So how do we get the credentials?” Oz asked.
“I’m still working on that part.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” Colt said. “And if Trident Industries thinks that you’re snooping around—”
“Dang it,” Oz said as he looked in the rearview mirror.
Colt turned and caught sight of the red and blue lights flashing behind them.
“How fast were you going?” Danielle asked.
“Too fast.” Oz eased over to the shoulder and put his Jeep in park before reaching for his wallet. “Hey, McAlister, will you grab my registration out of the glove box?”
“You better turn your radio off,” Danielle said. “You don’t want the officer to think you’re a punk.”
Oz reached over to turn off the radio before placing both hands on the steering wheel. “My dad is going to kill me.”
Moments later the patrol car pulled up behind them with a floodlight pointed at the Jeep. Colt watched the patrolman run Oz’s license plate through the system before he approached the Jeep.
“Good evening,” he said, shining a flashlight inside the cab.
“Do you know why I pulled you over tonight?”
“Yes, sir,” Oz said. “I was driving a little fast.”
“I guess you could say that,” the officer said. “I clocked you at twenty miles per hour over the speed limit. Where are you folks headed?”
“Home, sir,” Oz said.
“I’ll need your license and registration.”
Oz handed them over, squinting in the beam of the flashlight.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
Colt watched the patrolman walk back to the car, reading Oz’s license with the aid of his flashlight. Then he paused before looking back at the Jeep. “This isn’t good,” Colt said.
“What’s wrong?” Oz asked.
The patrolman had sheathed his flashlight and was reaching for the gun in his holster. He drew it out slowly and approached the Jeep, his boots crunching in the gravel. The patrolman’s eyes were glowing red.
This excerpt is featured as part of Teen Fiction Week.