I sit in Dad's office, digging through different files and papers. I had yet to find anything helpful. I let out an aggravated breath, leaning down to open the last drawer in hopes of finding something interesting. I tug on the handle, yet the drawer doesn't open. I kneel, tugging on the drawer again.
"What–?" I began, noticing the small keyhole. Great, now I need to find a key.
There's got to be something good in here. Why else would it be locked?
I stand, looking around the room. Now, where would Dad hide a key? Good question, good question. I moved across the room to the filing cabinet where on top sat a small box. I grab the wooden box, bringing it back to the desk. I take a seat, opening it.
"Crap." I breathe.
It was full of keys. I'm sure there are probably at least twenty-five keys in here. How much did he have to hide?
I look up at the sound of footsteps. Crap, crap, crap. I stand quickly, moving across the room to put the box back. I straighten all of the papers I went through and slide the chair back into place. The footsteps were growing closer now. I push open the window as the door creaks open.
I jump. I wince as my ankle twists painfully. "Every damn time," I mutter.
***
"Hey, Dad?" I ask, walking into the kitchen where he sat.
"Yes, Kara?" Dad didn't look up at me, he only kept his eyes on the papers before him.
"I had a question," I state, moving to sit across from him.
"And?"
"Have you heard from John? How are they?" I ask, hoping that maybe for once he'd answer my question.
"I haven't. I'm sure they're fine though."
I sigh. "Yeah, I guess."
"Anything else?"
I stay quiet for a moment, debating on whether or not to bring it up. It was a question that had been bothering me for a while now. "Yeah, uh, I was coming to see you at your office the other day and I heard you asking Rob to get you the exact location of the group–"
"Kara, I've told you not to eavesdrop." Dad interrupted me.
"I know. It was an accident." I don't think lying is the best thing to do, but it beats admitting what is going through my head right now. That could probably get me killed. "How? How would you know?"
Dad finally looked up at me. "You have to keep your mouth shut about this, okay?"
"Okay. Of course, yeah." I nod.
"Every person who lives at the compound has a tracker in them. For safety purposes." Dad explains. "So we can track everyone, to keep them safe."
For some reason, a part of me doubted that. "Oh. Okay."
***
That night, I decided to go back to Dad's office. I sat on the floor in front of the desk, a small oil lamp beside me as I went through key after key. Who the hell has this many keys? I huff, picking up yet another key. I turn the key before pulling on the drawer. Nothing. Another key. Nothing. Another key. Nothing.
Another key. Nothing. Another key. Noth–Or not. The drawer slides open.
"Yes," I mumbled, smiling at my small victory.
Inside the drawer were a map, a few folders, and a small box-shaped device. I grab everything, shoving it into my bag before shutting the drawer and locking it.
I put all of the keys back and placed the box back. I shoulder my bag, slipping out of the office. By the time he realized I had taken all of this, I'd be gone.....Hopefully.