Trojan

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Trojan Page 10

by Brandon Clark


  “I’m sorry, let’s get you inside.”

  She looked back at the house.

  “Josef! Help Ms. Haley with her bags!”

  The barn door swung open, and Josef poked his head out. His face turned into a grin when he saw Haley.

  “Stop gawking and come here,” Francesca said.

  He pushed the barn door open more and emerged wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt.

  Haley popped the back of the car open, and he shuffled around to wrestle her bag out. She reached in the back seat and grabbed Jacob’s backpack.

  “She’s in the red room,” Francesca said. “Don’t tramp any water on the carpet.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  They climbed the steps, and Francesca led them into a wood floor foyer that opened up to a tastefully decorated sitting room.

  “I got a few of the boys’ old toys out,” Francesca said. “I’d hoped for more grandbabies, but I’m glad someone else will get to play with them. Josef, wipe your feet!”

  Haley set Jacob down and let him stumble over to the pile of stuffed animals on the living room floor.

  “Thank you,” Haley said. “I can’t tell you how much we appreciate this.”

  Francesca waved her thanks away.

  “Miguel said he needed a safe place for a baby. I wouldn’t let him send you anywhere else.”

  Haley didn’t say that she doubted Miguel would have mentioned it if he hadn’t wanted that outcome, but she didn’t spoil the woman’s mood.

  Instead, she strolled to the mantel and looked at the row of picture frames. She recognized a younger version of Francesca, along with six boys and one little girl with a thick braid of black hair. Another picture was just the boys, plus one more that she assumed was Miguel, covered in mud with their arms around one another and all grinning ear to ear. The last picture was of six men in fatigues with M-16s in front of a Humvee.

  “They all enlisted?” Haley asked, pointing at the frame.

  “All but Eduardo,” Francesca said. “They wouldn’t let them all go. But Miguel took his place.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Haley said. “I get worried sick when he’s just with his father.”

  “Didn’t have a choice. Too many mouths to feed. Though I’d have kept them all home if I had to do it again.”

  Haley looked at her, afraid of the question she was about to ask.

  “What happened?”

  “Desert Storm.”

  She didn’t elaborate, and her eyes took the distant look that it had in the driveway.

  The silence stretched for half a minute.

  “Thank you for your sacrifice,” Haley said quietly.

  Francesca snorted.

  “That’s what the bastards who showed up said,” she said wiping an unshed tear from her eye. “Thanks won’t bring my boys back from that godforsaken desert.”

  Haley stood awkwardly, unsure how to respond.

  “I’m sorry,” Francesca said. “I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. I’m proud of my boys. What they did needed to be done. I just wish I had more than a folded flag to remember them by.”

  Haley reached out and hugged the woman. Francesca flinched in surprise as Haley pulled her close.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said.

  The older woman slowly wrapped her arms around Haley.

  “Thank you.”

  The moment was interrupted by the clomp of feet on the wooden stairway, and the two women broke apart.

  Josef jumped down the last four steps, but he misjudged his momentum and slammed into the door.

  “You break that door, and you’re going to wish it’d broken you,” Francesca snapped.

  “It’s fine,” Josef said. “Can I go now?”

  Francesca rolled her eyes, but she made a shooing motion with her hand.

  “Did you get the stuff I told you to?” Haley asked as he reached for the door.

  He paused, then looked back over his shoulder.

  “Yeah,” he said slowly.

  “Have you set it up yet?”

  “Eric just dropped me off yesterday.”

  “So, no?”

  He sighed.

  “No.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the barn.”

  Haley turned to Francesca, then nodded at Jacob.

  “Can you watch him for a bit?”

  The old woman’s eyes lit up.

  “Happily.”

  Haley followed Josef outside and down the steps. The gravel crunched against wet leaves as they walked, and the earth had the fresh earthy smell that could only be found far away from the city.

  “How’s the Internet out here?” Haley asked.

  Josef shrugged. “Miguel pays for it.”

  “No issues then?”

  “Haven’t tried to do much except watch . . .” he trailed off and looked back at Haley. “Cat videos.”

  “We’ll need a solid connection if you’re going to get anything done,” Haley said.

  Josef grunted as he pushed the door open. As Haley’s eyes adjusted to the dimmer interior, she blinked in surprise. She’d never been to a farm before, but she was fairly certain most didn’t have enough weapons to arm a small country laying around.

  Rifles and pistols hung on racks on both walls. The workbenches in the middle of the room were covered with crates and boxes. The horse stalls had been converted to storage areas as well, with stand-alone racks with still more weapons in the center of each. The only exception was the very middle stall, which had a couch and flat-screen TV, along with a PlayBox and multiple controllers.

  “Does Francesca know all this is here?” Haley asked in wonder.

  “Of course,” Josef said. “Miguel and my dad bought this place for her.”

  “And they aren’t worried that someone will stumble upon all of it?”

  “Miguel as a license for all of this,” Josef smiled. He held his arms out to either side. “As far as the cops know, he’s a paranoid ex-Marine that firmly believes in the Second Amendment.”

  Haley shook her head in wonder.

  “Got to love the Second Amendment . . .”

  She took one more look around the room and then inhaled sharply. The smell of hay, likely from gun crates rather than for horses, filled her nostrils.

  “Where’s the non-shooty gear?”

  Josef walked to the end of the barn and flipped open a few cardboard boxes. He cut the tops open with a knife and pulled two new laptops out, along with several routers and numerous lengths of cable. He handed each item to Haley, who set them carefully among the weapons that were laid out on the bench.

  “Do you want to do this here?” she asked, eyeing the clutter of firearms.

  “Might as well,” Josef said. “Internet comes in here. And it doesn’t smell like old people.”

  Haley stifled a laugh but admitted he had a point. She grabbed a broom from one corner and handed it to him.

  “Well at least sweep up a bit while I try to find something comfortable to sit on.”

  They went about setting up the equipment. Haley let Josef handle the firearms while she ran the cables and power cords.

  When they were ready, they’d converted the center bench into a serviceable working area, complete with four monitors, docking stations for the laptops, and plenty of outlets.

  “Good?” Josef said.

  Haley nodded, distracted by the configuration script she was running.

  “Cool,” he said. “I’m going to be in there if you need me.”

  Haley looked back and saw he was already halfway into the stall with the TV.

  “No, no,” she said.

  He stopped in his tracks.

  “Come on,” she patted the stool next to hers.

  “Shouldn’t we take a break or something?” Josef said. “We’ve been working hard.”

  Haley eyed him carefully.

  “What happened to your dad?”

  She could see his face tighten, his fists clenchin
g.

  “Someone set him up,” he finally said.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you want to find out?”

  “Of course,” he snapped, eyes flashing. “And when I do, I’ll gut the freaking pig.”

  “And you think the answer is that game?”

  He opened his mouth to shoot back, but then clicked it shut.

  “I can help you,” Haley said. “And I need your help. But neither of us are going to get what we need without putting in the work. And right now? I need you to learn as much as you can as fast as you can.”

  “I already did all the stuff you gave me.”

  “Then it’s time to see how well you learned.”

  Josef regarded her for a minute longer, then nodded.

  “We may be here for a bit,” Haley said. “Why don’t you go grab a couple drinks and snacks, so we don’t have to bother Francesca again.”

  “Do I look like a personal assistant?”

  “You look like someone who can either wait until I finish here and then go get the snacks, or you can go get them now and get back to your game quicker.”

  Josef rolled his eyes but started out of the barn.

  Haley let the door swing shut, then stood and walked into the horse stall.

  “You ready?” Bonnie asked.

  Stryker nodded hesitantly, eyeing the white picket fence and manicured lawn behind it. The street could have been out of Desperate Housewives, down to the perfectly harmonious bird chirps and smell of fresh-cut grass and apple pie.

  Bonnie put a hand on his shoulder.

  “You’ve got all the skills,” she said. “You can do this.”

  He nodded and walked up to the gate, the hydraulics in his armor’s leg joints hissing quietly with each step.

  “Stryker.”

  He looked back at her. She tapped her temple.

  His brow furrowed, but then he grimaced and pulled the helmet over his head, hiding his face.

  “Sorry,” he said, his voice projecting from the speakers in the helmet. It was deeper and smoother than his.

  Bonnie made a shooing motion toward the fence.

  He tried to push it open gently, and it swung inward on silent hinges. He looked back, and Bonnie gave him a thumbs up even though she had no idea what his face looked like.

  He continued down the path to the front door. Insects and hummingbirds buzzed around his helmet, but he ignored them.

  He stepped up to the front porch, the wood creaking under the weight of his armor. Then he pushed the door. It also swung open.

  He took a step inside.

  An iron portcullis slammed down behind him, cutting off his route back to Bonnie. There was a horrible scream that made her flinch, and then the whole house shook with the force of an explosion. The shockwave punched Bonnie in the chest, and the windows shattered in a cloud of glass slivers. Smoke rolled out the windows and down the front porch, stopping at the picket fence.

  It cleared a few seconds later, revealing the pristine house.

  Bonnie sighed and turned back to the street, where twenty more figures in hunter green armor were laid out in a neat line, like bodies from a horrific accident. She approached the nearest one and put a hand on its chest.

  Stryker sat up, twisting frantically. He popped the helmet off and sucked in deep lungfuls of air.

  “It’s OK; I’ve got you,” Bonnie said.

  “I . . . what? I didn’t do anything,” Stryker said.

  “You hit a honeypot,” Bonnie said. “It’s meant to look easy. Remember, if something doesn’t appear to have any defenses, it’s probably a trap. Be careful.”

  “Why did you let me go in there?” he asked.

  “You wouldn’t have learned.”

  “I also wouldn’t have gotten blown up.”

  Bonnie waved a hand dismissively.

  “Spartans never die,” she said. “Come on, you’re going back.”

  “You just said it was a trap!”

  “I said what you did was a trap,” she said. “I’ve already been in and left you a little something on one of the servers. If you want it, you’ll need to try again.”

  He looked at her suspiciously.

  “What’d you leave?”

  Bonnie shrugged.

  “If you don’t want to go back in, I get it,” she said. “It’s a big scary place, after all . . . Though not as scary as not having your PlayBox Live account password. But don’t worry, I changed it for you so that you can’t get distracted.”

  Stryker’s jaw dropped.

  “You what?”

  “Changed your password while you were getting snacks. Like I said though, I just put it on a little slip of paper in there.”

  His face froze, eyes twitching for a few seconds. Bonnie waited, watching the screens showing a failed login pop up in his irises.

  Then he blinked once, and his eyes were bright and furious.

  “You had no right—”

  “It’s not my fault you made it easy to guess,” she said. “If you don’t want people hacking you, I’d recommend you learn how to hack yourself.”

  “But what if I can’t—”

  “I got in using only things that I’ve taught you,” Bonnie said. “I’d hurry though, you got a message from one of your buddies. Something about needing someone to run a raid or something. Sounded important.”

  Stryker’s eyes bulged.

  “They’re running the raid tonight?” he squeaked. Then he swallowed. “When?”

  Bonnie checked her watch dramatically.

  “An hour and . . . thirteen minutes?”

  “And you’re just now telling me?”

  “And you’re still here?”

  “You’re a bitch,” he grumbled.

  “You should have seen what I did to my ex.”

  He shook his head one more time and pushed himself up. This time, instead of charging straight ahead, he circled the property slowly, looking at the windows and all the gaps and gates in the fence. When he completed his circuit, he reversed course and made another loop.

  Then he walked back to the front gate and pushed it open.

  Instead of going back to the front porch, he crouched and launched himself towards a second-story window. He arced through the air gracefully and curled up in a ball right before he hit the glass.

  And then bounced off the window, fell backward, and landed on his head. The hummingbirds were on him instantly, and he disappeared in a cloud of colorful feathers.

  Bonnie touched another of the figures in the street.

  “I’ll give you a six for the dismount,” she said as the armored figure sat up. “Try to stick the landing next time.”

  Stryker didn’t bother responding.

  This time, he pulled the assault rifle off his back and lined up the sights. Holding down the trigger, he sprayed bullets over the front of the house, walking the fire up and down, left and right, until he’d covered every inch of the facade.

  Bonnie winced at the racket, but when the gunfire stopped, two windows were shattered, though the rest of the house was as pristine.

  Stryker took a running jump and leaped through the bottom floor window. Bonnie saw him roll and come up with the rifle ready. Then he moved through to another room, and Bonnie lost sight of him.

  Several loud bangs later, and he blasted out through the roof. Bonnie shielded her eyes from the sun as he sailed through the air. He landed with a thump and a cloud of dust, leaving spiderwebs of concrete around his boots.

  Bonnie coughed and waved to clear the air, but when she looked up, she saw Stryker proudly holding out a skeleton key.

  “Sure, that’s it?” she said.

  “StrykerSux? Yeah, I feel pretty sure that’s it.”

  Bonnie shrugged.

  “Can’t let you get too much of an ego,” she said with a grin.

  Then she clapped a hand on his metal shoulder.

  “Good job. I may be able to make a hacke
r out of you yet.”

  He popped the helmet off. His hair was matted with sweat, but he was grinning ear to ear.

  “What’s next?”

  “We’re going to go a few more rounds of capture the flag,” she said. “Then I think you’ll be ready for the big leagues.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Haley and Josef sat side by side, hammering away on their keyboards.

  “Will Heartbleed work?” Josef asked.

  She paused in her own typing long enough to look at him sideways.

  “You tell me.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “If I’d wanted another parent, I’d have stayed with Miguel.”

  “But then you wouldn’t be learning all of these glowing computer thingies to further your nefarious plans.”

  “Do you ever give a serious answer?”

  “Only when it’s a matter of life and death,” she said with a smile.

  He rolled his eyes again, and they went back to work. Haley decided if he couldn’t figure it out on his own in the next ten minutes, she’d give him another hint.

  About eight minutes later, he slammed a fist on the table, making Haley jump in surprise.

  He whooped and stood, sending his chair rolling into the back wall.

  “Boom, bitch,” he yelled at the computer. “I own you!”

  Haley raised an eyebrow at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Act like you’ve been there,” she said.

  “You take the fun out of everything.”

  “I’m a mother,” she said. “It’s what I do.”

  Josef shook his head and started toward his chair.

  A light above the barn door that Haley hadn’t noticed before started flashing orange. Haley looked up in surprise.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing.

  “Huh?” Josef looked up. “Oh, that’s the air raid warning. We probably need to head to the fallout shelter.”

  Haley glared at him.

  “Don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” he said with a shrug.

  “What is it really?”

  “Someone’s coming up the drive,” he said.

  He walked back to his monitor and opened up a window showing a security camera feed. A nineties-era, silver Mercedes convertible pulled into the drive. The top was down, and the driver had a gleaming bald head and a pair of wide sunglasses.

 

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