Reset.

*Incorrect password. Please try again! One attempt remaining*

Gahhhh, Jason growled, slamming his fist against the hallowed library desk. Looking around without embarrassment, he threw his head into his hands, rocking it back and forth, eyes closed, deep in contemplation.

Where did I put the exclamation point? Staring back at the screen, it had to have been there.

Forcing his fingers to type through stiff resistance, he typed the same password again. Changing an ‘o’ to zero was the only difference he hadn’t tried in his previous two attempts. Hesitating, he closed his eyes and pushed submit.

*Incorrect password, please contact the administration to reset your password*

The bright flashing box caused weight from his shoulders to shoot up his spine, forcing gravity to do the rest. Jason’s head landed with an impressive clack against the pin-drop silence of the occupied library.

No one looked. No one cared.

Right on cue, the grandfather clocked chimed five.

It’s over. Lifting his head, he could feel a faint pulse at the impact spot and attempted to rub it away.

A few minutes later, Jason pushed on the double doors, only to have the right give way and the left reiterate that the day was coming to a close. Jason’s mood was quickly matched by the gray sky pouring buckets of water over anyone daring to enter. Unaffected, he kicked at the puddles forming along the sidewalk and watched as people around him hurried in and out of stores, jumped into cabs, and bumped into one another without a courteous, mumbled apology. Remaining dry was an individual goal, forcing solitude between the drops.

The opposite of what you’d find on a less dreary day when neighbors would stop, converse, and offer services where needed. ‘It’s a big, small city” was the phrase all the marketing companies used to draw in tourism and young families.

Entering through the aged white screen door without warning, Jason took in the kitchen of his ranch-laid-out home through new, empty eyes. Incapable of accepting the cheerful music and smells fighting for his sense’s attention, rendering Jessica’s homemaking powerless against his full-body dread.

“Daddy!” snapped him out of his daze.

Forcing a huge smile while flinging open his arms, Jason welcomed the hug from his four-year-old, welcoming the shimmer of hope for brighter days and allowing a flood of warmth to fill his previously frozen soul.

“I didn’t hear you pull up!” Jessica exclaimed, coming around the corner, adding the kiss necessary to push all future hardship from Jason’s mind.

“I walked.”

Jessica’s eyes said it all. “Jayden, go play in your room until dinner is ready,” she insisted, ensuring concern was absent from her voice.

As the tiny heels rounded the corner, she continued in hushed tones, “what happened? He said if you transferred it all today, it’d be ok? We’d be ok.”

The latter part of her statement wasn’t directed at Jason but to the universe, pleading for it not to be true.

“Right.” Pulling now saturated documents from his back pocket, “there’s not even a website listed on any of these printouts. I’m not even sure I was trying to log into the correct site. Regardless, the day is closed, and these statements aren’t worth the paper they’re printed on.”

The papers he used to protect with a fire safe now crumbled as his finger oils spread into the drenched pores. For a moment, before the ink smudged too much together, it looked like the total read six billion instead of six million.

“Why?” He’d spent the whole walk home asking this question and had come up with nothing valuable to answer Jessica now.

“I’m not sure. There has to be a point. Unless it’s just part of their larger laugh.”

“No one can be that cruel.” She added, trying to reassure herself.

“Then what?” Throwing his hands up, “Why hang the carrot in front of our faces, only to watch us flail and fail unless it is part of some amusement to them? We don’t even know Monday IS going to happen the way he said.”

“He’s my brother!” Jessica took offense.

“That doesn’t mean he’s still the person you grew up with, Essi,” Jason added her pet name to weaken the blow. “Face it, after encouraging us to set up the account when he started this job, he all but vanished from the family. No one knows the people he’s been wrapped around.”

“Just because he works for them doesn’t mean he is one of them.”

“This is an irrelevant fight.” Jason slumped into the nearest chair. “It doesn’t change what is happening. We’ve lost everything. Our savings, Jayden’s savings, rainy day fund, vacations, all of it. Jess, I didn’t even drive home because I couldn’t bear putting gas in the car.” Jason added for emphasis.

“We must have misunderstood him,” she mustered out, holding back tears begging to fall.

Shaking his head, Jason found the already too-familiar position of shame. Opening his eyes only to find sheets he’d once held dear continuing to disintegrate—too rapidly.

Gently collecting them, he noticed unbothered sections on each slip. Amongst all the other ink-ran letters and numbers remained a few, standing with solitary confidence. 08ebt22rmpS90ee.

“What do you think it means?” Jess asked.

“I. I’m not sure. Get your brother on the phone.”

Jason wrote the letters out on a fresh piece of paper as his wife fumbled through her phone.

“Jesus,” Jason muttered as he heard the second ring cut off by his brother-in-law’s greeting. “How long have you known?” He interrupted, grabbing the phone from Jess’s hand while trying to keep his voice below shouting.

Bewildered, Jess mouthed what before gasping as Jason rewrote the sequence again.

September 29 2008

A wave of calm crashed over him as an idea unfitting his personality came to the forefront of his mind. “Doug.” He exhaled deeply, “I want my money, Doug. And you have until Monday at 9 am to wire it to me, or I’m going to the media.”

“You don’t want to do that, Jason. Think of Jessica, Jayden, and your parents.”

“Think about my family? Were you thinking about any of us when you strong-armed us into this Ponzi scheme? What’s going to happen on Monday, Doug?”

“Why didn’t you transfer the money yourself? I gave you the login information.”

“You know damn well there’s no actual website.” Then, ending Doug’s long pause, Jason continued, “now. I want all that was said to be in my account by Monday morning. Do you understand me?”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He mumbled before hanging up.

Jason and Jess sat drinking coffee at the kitchen table Monday morning while Jayden ran around entertaining them without a care in the world. Life was forever changed, regardless of the outcome.

Ding. Jess squeezed Jason’s hand and peered at him over her coffee mug. Then, flipping his phone with a deep inhale, he forced the screen to glow. Doug has sent you something.

Jason slid up the screen to reveal the keyboard and rolled through notifications to click on the one from a bank he’d never used. Ding.

Doug’s text scrolled across the top, saying, *use the same information as Friday*

Jess moved her hand to Jason’s shoulder, partly for comfort but also because she wanted a better look at what was happening. He realized he was holding his breath and finally clicked submit, simultaneously expelling the pent-up exhale. The pages loaded and displayed all his information, accompanied by the six million dollars he thought his brother-in-law lost him.

Ding. Jason carelessly looked at his phone on the way to his car later that afternoon and pulled down to read the notification better. Breaking news: the Dow is down almost 400 points in the last five minutes.

Without a second thought, Jason dropped the phone onto the driveway, climbed into the driver seat, took Jess’s hand, and smiled as he backed up, crushing the phone.

“Better days are ahead.” He said, kissing her hand and shifting into drive.

“I guess I don’t need mine anymore either,” she said, moving to power off her phone.

Ding.

Jess gasps, catching the notification. “Doug’s dead.” She whispered.

Keeping his eyes on the road, Jason squeezed her hand and reassured her, “confirmation we’re making the right decision in leaving.” Then, glancing in the rearview mirror at Jayden in the backseat, Jason sped up out of fear for his family’s life.