Chapter Nineteen

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The light tapping of a pen against a table was one of the few sounds that filled the apartment, the other coming from a cartoon playing on the TV.

It was currently 6:28am, Bryce had spent just about over an hour trying to decode the location on the backpack's profile, unfortunately only getting so far as to the first nine numbers. He sighed and put the pen down for a moment as he looked to the lantern that sat on his sofa.

Airy was really fixed on that screen. You'd think he could have watched something on his computer in that cave or something. He also seems to like cartoons in particular. It's probably because they're silly and fun. The one he's currently watching involves two kids in Oregon who go on crazy adventures by messing with demons and other fantasy creatures. What was it called? Ah, doesn't matter. Bryce looks back at the laptop.

The soda bottle had found out that he could highlight text on the database and has tried putting the numbers into translators and such to try and get it clear. He obviously had no luck. How was he supposed to find his Liam if he can't even decode a stupid number!? Wait, what? Well, looks like he's at it again. He mutters something under his breath before he picks the pen up once again, flipping the sheet of paper he was using to write down the number and just stared at the now blank sheet, unaware of what he had started doing.

It'd take a few minutes for Bryce to snap back from looking at the 'blank' sheet and a few more to register what was on it. He immediately dropped the pen and kept staring. How did he not realise he started that? He drew something but it wasn't just anything. It was...

 It was

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...Liam... God f***ing dammit! Bryce quickly turned the sheet back over to the numbers and looked back up at the laptop, face redder than usual.

T: [You feeling okay, Romeo?]

B: "What? Rom-.. Oh, shut the f**k up. I didn't even realise I was doing that!"

T: [Mhm..sure.]

B: "Whatever. Anyways, got anything on the numbers?"

T: [Yes, actually! I've managed to figure out the next seven numbers. They're 1361087.]

Bryce writes that down with the other ones. It's now 4831895691361087. At least it's progress... He sighs.

T: [What's wrong?]

B: "It's just that we've been at this for four to maybe five weeks, a month even, and we've still barely gotten anywhere. There's just a lot of thoughts running through my head about this."

T: [What kind of thoughts?]

Should he tell them? He doesn't know. He hesitates until he gives in.

B: "Thoughts that we could be too late and something happened to him, what if he lost the notes and got killed? A-and what if this damn..damn code doesn't even lead us anywhere!?"

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