Adam had no choice. To keep the promise he made to his brother and sister, he needed to break the 'Sacred Rule.'

"Why!?" He punched the wall, smearing it with blood.

All his years in the ring had taught him how to throw a mean right cross, but no matter how good of a boxer he used to be, the consequences of slamming one's knuckles against a wall are always the same. Pain didn't even break through the fog of anger at first. The living room carpet was damp, the drip-drop of the leak still echoed in the apartment, the short circuit had burnt the main power switch to a crisp, and he knew that, after backing up his files in the cloud, he would have to venture outside—after sundown.

Dread settled around his heart.

He had explained to Zhang once that Caracas was like one of those small towns in horror movies where the villagers hid before dusk to prevent the vampires from ripping their necks off and draining the life out of them.

Zhang said it sounded dystopian; Adam told him it was something worse: a world upside down. "Here, people fear the police as much as the criminals," he explained. "And the innocent, we live behind bars, while the crooks run the streets amok. We've gated our doors and windows to keep them outside, making prisons out of our homes."

Then, he expounded to his client their survival hinged on the unspoken curfew darkness brought each night—the Sacred Rule: stay inside after twilight.

And he would have to break it tonight to meet his deadline.

"At least the fucking plumber left," Adam muttered to himself before pressing the Skype icon on his smartphone. "Hi, Zhang."

Adam found their conversation unbearable, not because Zhang sounded aggrieved, but because he didn't. His client accepted his apologies and showed unusual kindness, serving Adam such a giant slice of humble pie that he suspected something else was wrong.

"Never expected you'd take the Bristol thing that far," Zhang said.

"I don't understand."

"Me neither. I'm assuming this means you want me to pay you with a favor, after all."

Here it is—the fine print beneath all that charade of compassion.

"Why?"

"The audio file you shared."

Adam mumbled an inaudible curse word. He'd forgotten about the computer virus. His grandmother once told him that misery loves company, and it seemed she was right.

"Sorry," Adam said. "Don't open it, please. Might be a virus."

"Malware?" Zhang chuckled. "Not at all! It's a carrier. When I heard the unmistakable, metallic squawks and crackles of a Datarama broadcast, I realized it was old school steganography."

Puzzled, Adam held his smartphone closer to his ear. To understand what Zhang meant, he first recalled that Datarama was the name of a radio show famous for broadcasting computer programs over the radio back in the '80s, then he had to figure out that by 'steganography' his client meant there was a concealed message in Evi's cursed MP3 file.

But what message? And who sent it?

"I assumed you wanted me to extract the hidden data from it," Zhang continued. "Since you mentioned that story earlier, I figured out it was an olive branch to apologize for how we left things off. Your way of saying that your Bristol and mine are the same. But I almost didn't recognize you."

Those words stunned Adam. "Me?"

"You looked so young!"

After having filled in with small talk those uncomfortable silences during dozens of video calls over the past couple of years, Adam now knew his client had a Venezuelan wife, a newborn daughter, and a cat named Travolta. And Zhang had learned about Adam's plan to get his two younger siblings out of the country. However, neither could have known what the other looked like in their early twenties, mostly because Adam had forgone the spaghetti and beers diet he lived on throughout college, losing a good twenty pounds since then. And if those changes in his appearance weren't enough, his skin was a lovely shade of I-live-in-an-underground-bunker these days. The last time his grandmother visited him, she said he reminded her of Casper.

Adam didn't care for the comparison then, and he didn't care for it now either.

"What?"

"Casper..." Zhang said. "You look like the ghost of the young man in the recording. Don't get upset. It's a joke."

Adam supposed that if they were in the same room together, Zhang would have winked and patted him on the back.

"Am I in the hidden video?"

"Yes. Odd, really. I stopped watching it when I noticed it had nothing to do with my game."

A shiver went down Adam's spine.

"Is there anyone else in the video?

"A doctor and your sister, I think."

"Bianca..."

The UPS died in an agonizing beep, leaving Adam in the dark.

If Adam's suspicions rang true, that video could be a death sentence to his sister. Someone was threatening them, and he would do whatever it took to find out who was behind it.

I didn't think I was going to make it this week.

The last few days have been difficult an emotional, and things haven't always worked out well. I managed to help my parents leave Venezuela and the whole thing has been heartbreaking; especially, hearing how much my grandmother cried.

But I had to write.

I love writing. I feel incomplete when I don't write.

I will do my best to always publish a new Part every Friday, even if no one is reading.

This helps me move forward and exorcise my demons.

I'm sorry for this rant (and apologize if there are any typos since I wrote this without much thought).

Please, vote, add or share this if you liked it.

I also really love to hear your comments, questions and critiques.

I hope some of you look forward to the next Part as much as me.

Thanks for reading!