Backland: Insecurity (Book #2)

by Jeff Shelnutt

  BACKLAND

  Book 2

  “Insecurity”

  Jeff Shelnutt

  Copyright © 2014 by Jeff Shelnutt

  Horse & Buggy Publications

  PO Box 17

  Shannon, AL 35142

  Cover design by Vince Maggio: vince@dixielandphoto.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Freedom is the right to tell people what they do not want to hear.

  -Eric Blair

  Prologue

  Clawing his way forward, his fingernails viciously dug into the dirt as his knees scraped across the jagged surface. From behind, the enveloping darkness called out, insisting he stay. But Cam remained focused on the light ahead, persevering in a desperate attempt to reach its relative safety. With a final lunge, he emerged back into consciousness. Pushing himself up onto one elbow, he shook his head. The effort to clear it only made the piercing ring within more persistent. He gazed around, his senses imbibing the landscape in an instinctive attempt to ascertain his position.

  Reaching up with his free hand, he carefully probed the back of his head with his finger. The area was sensitive. He dared not tease it and risk provoking any more pain.

  It was night. There was a quarter-moon whose location told him it was approximately 22:00. The air was muggy, heavy in its presence. He lay in an open area, a field perhaps. His eyes traced in the distance a wall that followed the contour of the land. Thirty feet in height and made of reinforced concrete, it instantly revealed to him he was near a Free Zone. What he didn’t know was if he was inside or out.

  Leaping to his feet, Cam braced himself for a dizzy spell that fortunately didn’t manifest. He turned to look behind. There was a freeway bridge, an exit that funneled exiting freight units into a departure point. That’s settled. He was in.

  Casting his attention to the horizon beyond the bridge, he surveyed the skyscrapers visible in the distance, their artificial luminescence creating a dome of light around the city. And in their midst, like a soldier at attention, stood a landmark. The presence of the slim silver column disclosed to him his precise location.

  Already on the defensive, Cam now sensed he needed to find cover, and quickly. As far as he could tell he was alone—at least for the moment. Walking over to a spot nearby that appeared disturbed, he observed that the grass was flattened in a familiar pattern. Unconsciously glancing skyward, he listened for the retreating helicopter that he understood had just been there.

  Was he on a mission? If so, he couldn’t remember the objective. Besides that, the cityscape told him that he was very far from HQ. Where was the rest of his unit? He looked down to see that he was wearing a black shirt tucked into black pants. Rubbing his cheek, he pulled his hand away to see a smudge of dark camo paint on his finger. He felt for around for a communication device. Not finding anything, he figured they had him on neural frequency.

  Shade-maker to base, do you copy? If he was linked up, the thought would automatically transmit.

  Nothing. He tried again. Silence. He was on his own. Now to figure out what he was supposed to be doing—as soon as he got out of the open, that is.

  Feeling that he could physically manage it, he took off jogging toward what looked like an embankment. He wanted to see what might be on the other side. At the top he paused. Peering down he saw that the ground dropped off into a wide dry culvert designed to take excess water away from the city.

  Only a few seconds passed before he noticed the circular flat pod gliding along above and moving in his direction, its sensors scanning the land that whizzed by underneath its searchlight. Hitting the ground, Cam made himself as flat as possible, thankful that he was wearing a dark outfit. If the drone flew directly above, it would pick up his heat signature. If he got lucky, it might mistake him for an animal—though he doubted it.

  It was a scout, he knew, monitoring the perimeter. Since he still didn’t understand what he was supposed to be doing, he thought it best to try to avoid detection.

  After two minutes that seemed like an hour, he was reasonably sure the drone was gone. He rolled over and sprang to his feet. The higher altitude of his position gave him a slightly better view of the city. He suddenly caught a strange flash out of the corner of his eye. In the instant it took him to fully focus on the spot, an enormous rapidly ascending fireball lit up the face of the surrounding skyscrapers, multiplying its brilliant fury on a million reflective surfaces. Closing his eyes, Cam also threw up his arm as an extra precaution against the blinding brightness.

  But just as quickly as it had appeared, the conflagration vanished. The sound waves reached him a second later, registering in his ears as a thunderous boom even as the ground beneath his feet tremored faintly from the shock. Immediately sirens began to blare their mournful wail across the expanse. He knew it was thermal explosive, could tell by the color of the flame—almost certainly military grade.

  Was that why he was here? If so, it was definitely time to move. If not, it was still advisable to set a course away from the scene of destruction. The city would be on complete lockdown. His mind made up, he fell into a comfortable run along the top of the embankment away from the coming chaos toward the wall and a possible way out.

  As he drew closer to the barrier he angled left down into the canal. The water had to exit somewhere. His feet touching the pavement bottom, he glanced to his right. As he’d anticipated, the probe was moving back toward him, determinedly dropping in altitude and accelerating as it came. Having gone into full alert after the explosion, Cam certainly fit its definition of suspicious activity.

  He looked back and saw a pool of stagnant water where the canal intersected with the wall. Giving his legs an extra push while pumping his arms, he picked up speed, not allowing himself to think about the pounding of his head wound with every labored breath.

  He screamed at a sudden explosion of excruciating pain between his shoulder blades. Stumbling, he hit the ground, his momentum propelling him forward, the pavement scraping skin from his right flank. Rolling over, he saw the drone hovering directly above, a thin blue line of electrical charge between the two silver probes of its tazer.

  He instinctively felt for a pistol that wasn’t there. Looking frantically around, he grabbed a stone that lay within his reach.

  The drone moved in closer, now only ten feet away. Standing brought Cam even nearer to it. He felt the air electrify right before the concentrated high voltage beam slammed into his chest. Falling onto his back, he lay with his eyes closed, gasping for a breath that he couldn’t catch, his heart racing at a dangerously irregular pace.

  He knew the drone was checking his vitals and running a biometric scan as he laid bathing in its light. He knew another tag to his chest would stop his heart. A human voice suddenly erupted from a speaker on the pod. “Do not move. You are under arrest. Security personnel are on their way.”

  Cam listened as he fought to stay conscious, the voice a phantom floating over his dreamscape.

  “I repeat. Do not move or you will be fired upon.”

  Something in the back of Cam’s mind, or maybe in the bottom of his gut, told him to run. He couldn’t explain how he understood, but whatever had just occurred in the city, he was assumed to be a part of it. And as far as he knew, maybe he was.

  Cracking an eye half open, he saw the drone still holding its position in a hover directly above him. He tightened his grip on the stone in his right hand. In quick fluid motion, he sat up and simultaneo
usly hurled the rock. With a thump it struck the bottom of the scout, bending in a section of the housing protecting the circulating blade within.

  The drone fired just as the grill nicked its rotor. Instantly destabilized, the scout missed its target. Cam leapt up, turned and ran. A voice behind him called out, “Halt or you will be fired upon!” The drone was having difficulty maneuvering and couldn’t get a lock on Cam.

  He noted the putrid smell of the stagnant black water just before he waded into it. Taking the deepest gulp of air he could manage, he dove under and swam.

  1

  Strolling down the corridor, Kyle tried to smile. It would not do to wear on his face what he really felt inside. He had crossed the threshold, that moment of timeless significance when a decision solidifies and sets in the will. He felt both elated and intensely anxious for its implications.

  The artificial luminescence of the long, thin LED’s running subcutaneously through the ceiling above bore deep into his skull and reflected without apology off the polished tile floor and glossy white walls. The raging light magnified his intention. It beckoned him forward even as it taunted his steps.

  He would talk to Lloyd. Admitting it made it seem so mundane, so inconsequential. Until very recently not only could he have cared less about the guy, he barely ever even took note of his presence.

  Shivering, he almost tripped. A lady from Human Resources—what was her name?—Scion, that was it. She gave him a questioning look as she passed, her upturned eyebrows asking, “Are you okay?” No. He was definitely not.

  Struggling back into a rhythmic gate, the light reflected off of him as he reflected again on how Lloyd might prove to be a bridge, a way across his recent unease onto the solid land of comprehension. Kyle was pretty sure he was not allowed to cross such a bridge. He didn’t even know if Lloyd would talk to him. But he knew he had to try.

  He kept walking, even though every fiber of sense demanded he stop. He wasn’t supposed to associate with the kitchen staff. It wasn’t forbidden. It was simply an unspoken taboo. They were all subs, society’s worker bees. Lloyd did his job, was provided for by the state and would eventually die. His death wouldn’t be noticed because his life had never been. He was one miniscule cog in a small, out of the way gear. He wasn’t part of the future, only a fading wisp of the all but forgotten past.

  “Kyle!” a flattering feminine voice rang out from behind.

  He jumped. Spinning around in expectation, a real grin replaced the fake one. “Hey,” he managed awkwardly.

  “Hey yourself, stranger,” Katelyn said as she caught up to him and playfully punched his shoulder.

  Now he really couldn’t control the flutter in his chest. She always did this to him. He knew what would come next, a floundering around for words as he tried not to sound as dumb as he felt.

  “I haven’t seen you in days,” she emphasized. “You been hidin’ or what?”

  “Nah, everything’s pretty much the same,” he stammered. That was lie.

  “Well, I’ve got news for you,” she exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “You’ll never guess.” She paused dramatically. He took the cue and waited. “I’ve been tapped!”

  “Wow. That’s great,” he managed, forcing a pleasure he didn’t feel into his words. “You deserve a shot. You’ve earned it.”

  “So have you,” she returned, offering him a sympathetic drop of her eyelids. She pushed a strand of dark hair that had fallen forward behind her ear and looked expectantly at him, her face illuminated with concern. It was almost more than he could bear.

  “We’ve all worked hard,” he offered.

  “Yeah, that’s why I don’t know why I was chosen and…,” she hesitated.

  “I wasn’t?”

  “Uh huh,” she conceded with commiseration.

  Kyle could venture a guess at the reason. “It’ll come around again,” he said to her while reminding himself. “You’ve got a lot of preparing to do.”

  “I know! It’s overwhelming,” she bubbled enthusiastically.

  “When…,” he began.

  “Will I leave?”

  He nodded.

  Shrugging, she said, “They haven’t given us any details. I just got the message yesterday. But from what’s happened with others, I’m sure it won’t be long—a week at the most.”

  He wondered if she saw on his face the disappointment he felt. If so, she didn’t let on.

  “I gotta go. I’ll let you know what happens,” she followed up confidently.

  “Oh, okay. Where ya’ headin’ now?”

  “I’m leaving early to try to start getting some things together I’ll need for the trip.”

  “What are you looking for?” Kyle asked. “I might have some stuff you could use.”

  “Sure! In fact, I’ll go ahead and send my list over.”

  Katelyn pulled her Authorized Citizen’s Access Device from her pouch. Cradled in her palm, she fingered its screen and proclaimed, “There. You should be getting it.”

  Kyle’s own ACAD pinged as he brought it out. “Yeah, here it is.” He touched the screen to begin the sync. The list instantly downloaded into his mind. Mentally processing it, he said, “I have some of this stuff. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Great!” Narrowing her eyes in concerned suspicion, Katelyn suddenly asked, “Are you okay?”

  Momentarily flustered, Kyle threw back his head and managed to chuckle. “Yeah, I’m great. Just been working too hard, I guess.” He hated lying, especially to her.

  Stopping when they reached the lobby, she peered closely at him. Not completely convinced, she shrugged and smiled pleasantly. Giving him a quick side hug, she reassuringly told him, “Take care of yourself,” before hurrying off toward the elevator.

  Kyle watched her for a moment, thinking about what lay ahead for her. He then turned to look out of the enormous window that flanked the thirtieth floor lobby of Advanced Tech Services. The city laid spread out in its entire grandeur before him, the noon sun hurling its blazing beams upon the faces of the buildings in an illumination of urban splendor. Though he’d seen it all countless times, he always marveled at the crisp vertical rises graciously defying gravity, striving to brush the clouds hovering just outside of their reach. The modern mathematical precision back-dropped by a light blue sky was soothing to a mind like his.

  A flash off of the gold dome of the capital building caught his eye. The dome had survived. In fact, the whole city fared much better during the last civil war than it did in the first. These thoughts instinctively drew his gaze across the horizon to Ground Zero. A sleek silver tower—the pride of the city—stood tall and proud. She was a memorial to those who died in the infamous blast.

  Structurally, the “Beacon of Liberty” was a phenomenal feat. Graceful inverted arcs of ascending metal interwove in a double-helix, joining at the top to form a huge torch with a perpetually burning flame. Of course, the fire was a hologram. Environmental regulations prohibited the amount of carbon such a real flame would produce.

  However, nothing so visually stimulating was constructed without an ulterior purpose. The more practical function of the monument, in truth, was its use as a giant communications clearing house. Pulling in the billions of electromagnetic waves that continuously blanketed the Free Zone, the tower relayed the data in a live super stream to floors upon floors of processing servers in ATS. The Electromagnetic Surveillance Program was aptly nicknamed ESP.

  ESP’s omniscience had done her job well. Having saved the city on numerous occasions, she had also tilted the scales of victory in favor of the federal forces. However, her day in the sun was past and her initial function largely obsolete. Ever since society-wide implementation of neuro-chip technology, old-fashioned surveillance was passé.

  Kyle, more than most, understood this. His department processed neural data. He himself had written a handful of highly-successful algorithms, boosting his reputation to a level seldom ach
ieved by one his age. Advertising firms paid top dollar for a peek into someone’s head. So did CENTGOV for that matter.

  The neural mandate hadn’t really been necessary. Neuro-chips were not a hard sale. He didn’t know anyone who’d even questioned the miniscule device implanted painlessly through a simple out-patient procedure. After all, who could turn down direct mental interface to I-2?

  Dropping his distracted gaze away from the Beacon, he was reminded of what lay ahead, of where he was going, and why he was going there. He knew he couldn’t continue to stall. Straightening up, he took a deep breath and took a step away from the window and a step toward his destination.

  “Kyle!”

  Halting as his name was once again called out from behind, his nerves tightened to their snapping point. Get a hold of yourself. Turn around. It’s only Steve.

  “There you are!”

  Kyle turned and confirmed it was indeed Steve from Communications.

  “I’ve been looking for you. I stopped by your office and folks there said they thought you might’ve headed down this way.”

  “You got something for me?” Kyle asked, hoping his voice sounded steady.

  Steve was a messenger. He only delivered sensitive information—messages that couldn’t be trusted to bounce around cyber-space, no matter how encrypted.

  “Sure do,” Steve returned. He was in good shape from daily making deliveries all over the expansive complex, but he still couldn’t manage work off his slight pot belly. A string of perspiration always adorned his upper lip, even though the building was kept consistently cool. “From Control,” he followed, handing Kyle a letter-sized envelope.

  Kyle took it and flipped it over, noticing the DOCT seal. ATS was in the private sector, but held numerous government contracts. Still, a letter direct from the Department of Counter Terrorism was not your average communiqué. He looked up to see Steve peering anxiously at him, holding a scanner out in expectation.